CHAPTER 712: THE LAST LIGHT OF THE FEYWILD

Ethan flinched, instantly cutting off his energy.

The token crumbled to ash in his hand.

Silence followed—brief, taut.

Then he let out a quiet laugh.

"So that’s how it is."

A wind swept in from the distance, brushing past his shoulders, carrying the dry, scorched scent of the desert.

"Their sky’s already starting to crack."

He looked up, eyes locking on the distant fortress that hovered eternally among the clouds.

A glint sparked in his gaze—sharp, unsettling.

"Then we’ll climb. One layer at a time."

He turned away.

Behind him, the battle flag of Emerald Castle snapped in the wind.

"If they still dare to come down... then let them fall, one by one."

. . .

Days later,

the castle finally settled into a rare, welcome calm.

Everyone had returned to their Creature Dwellings and training grounds—

summoning, refining, evolving.

The hum of energy pulsed through the air like a heartbeat,

a quiet rhythm of growth and preparation.

The scent of metal and magic still lingered in the halls.

Soldiers patched up the outer defenses. Mages replenished the energy crystals.

And Ethan sat alone in the main hall, hunched over the war map.

His fingertip traced a slow line across the sand table—from the desert to the Sky Citadel—marked with dozens of red dots.

"If we strike now... it’s too soon," he murmured.

Yes, they could take advantage of the Citadel’s internal fracture, launch a full assault.

But that floating fortress in the sky—there was no way it didn’t have hidden cards left to play.

Even if the High Lord couldn’t descend, that didn’t mean every power was bound.

He closed his eyes, running through the possibilities.

"If they’ve got higher-tier beings who can break the boundary... then we’re still far from ready."

He needed new dungeons.

Stronger enemies. Greater power.

Just as he began sketching out the next phase of the campaign—

the doors slammed open.

Feylora stumbled in, wings fluttering wildly, wind trailing behind her.

"Master!"

Her face was pale, voice trembling.

"On my way back—I ran into a Fairy!"

Ethan raised an eyebrow.

"Every time you bring home a ’new friend,’ I end up with a headache."

Feylora ignored the jab.

"There’s no time—he says he’s from the Feywild. A separate realm! But it’s already been taken over... by a ruler so cruel it’s tearing the place apart!"

Ethan’s gaze sharpened.

"Bring him in."

Moments later, a faint shimmer of light drifted into the grand hall.

It was a Fairy—no bigger than a palm.

One wing was half-shattered, his tiny body riddled with cracks,

like a dying ember clinging to its last flicker.

He hovered in the air by sheer will, voice trembling like a leaf in the wind:

"I can feel it... the Fey Sovereign’s power inside you. Please... help us... our world is falling apart."

Ethan reached out, gently cupping the fragile creature and setting him down on the table. "Easy. First we heal you. Then we talk."

He uncorked a small vial and let a single drop fall onto the Fairy’s broken wing.

A soft golden light spread along the fractures, slow and steady.

"Now," Ethan said, "tell me what happened."

The Fairy’s eyes shimmered with tears. "That thing... he’s a bloodthirsty demon. He feeds on us. He’s turned the entire Feywild into a blackened night."

"If we don’t stop him soon... our kind will be wiped out."

The hall fell into a heavy silence.

Ethan said nothing for a long time.

But in the Fairy’s words, he’d caught a few phrases that made his scalp prickle—

Tier 21, peak level.

Commanding a host of powerful subordinates.

This wasn’t going to be a clean fight.

"If I move now," he thought, weighing the risks, "Emerald Castle still isn’t fully recovered. If we take heavy losses and Sky Citadel strikes back while we’re exposed—"

"We’ll lose everything."

Feylora frowned. "Master... we can’t just stand by and watch them die."

Ethan exhaled slowly,

his gaze falling back to the tiny Fairy.

The creature’s breathing was shallow,

but in his eyes burned a stubborn, flickering light that refused to go out.

Ethan remembered a time when he’d stood in that same place—

cornered by fate, clinging to survival with nothing but grit.

That look... he knew it too well.

"...Alright." Ethan stood, his voice steady again. "We’ll go see for ourselves."

The Fairy’s head snapped up. "Really?!"

"Don’t celebrate yet," Ethan said coolly. "If I find that place isn’t worth saving, I’ll pull out without hesitation."

He turned and gave his orders:

"Elira. Andona. You’re in charge of the castle’s defenses."

"If Sky Citadel sends more, hit back immediately."

Both women nodded in unison.

Ethan turned to Feylora. "This time, we’re bringing a thousand goblins."

"Not to fight. To scout."

He looked out the window, into the night.

Beyond the black sea of clouds, thunder rumbled low and distant.

"Let’s hope the Feywild... isn’t too far gone."

. . .

The forest lay a hundred miles north of Emerald Castle.

Under the night sky, the trees stood in eerie stillness,

their leaves glowing with a faint blue shimmer, like they were whispering lullabies in a forgotten tongue.

The Fairy floated ahead,

his fingertip brushing a barely visible seam in the mountainside.

A low hum resonated—

and the air folded in on itself.

A waist-high vortex bloomed from the rock face,

its center swirling with silver-green light.

Each slow rotation released a breath of sweet, delicate scent—

like pollen laced with ancient magic.

Ethan narrowed his eyes.

That scent made his pulse quicken—

pure, undiluted Fairy energy.

"It’s real," he murmured. "The Feywild."

One by one, they stepped through.

...

The moment they crossed over,

the world flipped.

Ethan felt a sudden heat bloom in his chest, his energy surging wildly,

as if something ancient and buried inside him had been yanked awake.

He looked up.

This Feywild was nothing like the dreamy realm of legend.

The sky shimmered in hues of violet and cyan,

drifting with massive petals and motes of glowing dust.

Trees grew upside down, their roots stretching toward the heavens,

and every leaf pulsed with a soft, eerie light—

like a thousand eyes watching the intruders.

"So much magic..." Feylora whispered, awestruck.

But Ethan didn’t answer.

Because he heard it—that sound.

A screech that tore through the air like metal being ripped apart.

"—SKREEEE!!"

It came from the distance, echoing with a jagged, unnatural resonance.

Then a streak of blood-red light dropped from the sky.

A man—at least, what had once been one.

His body was wrapped in a haze of dark crimson mist,

veins bulging and writhing beneath his skin like something alive,

and his eyes burned like twin furnaces.

"Bloodfiend..." the Fairy gasped,

instinctively shrinking back, wings trembling.

Ethan’s gaze stayed locked on the creature as it slammed into the ground.

The thing let out a guttural roar,

and in its palm, a blood-red glow flared to life—

a shockwave exploded outward, racing straight toward them.

...