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The elder's orders were swiftly issued, and the elves' famed efficiency revealed itself in full.
In Liaheim, power was concentrated solely in the elders. Beneath them were the elven wardens, rangers, and ordinary citizens—equal in principle, save for their roles.
All other activities in the city came to a halt. The elves turned their focus to a singular task: preparing for the impending arrival of the World-Eater.
The truth was made known to every elf—their perception of the living roots had been twisted, as had their understanding of the dwarves.
When the rangers realized their long-held beliefs were false, the spell of distortion shattered. Only then did they truly see the truth: the perimeter of the Forest of Origin had already been thoroughly infiltrated by the living roots. It was riddled with holes like a sieve.
The roots, nourished by the abundant vitality of the plants growing in the forest's periphery, had already begun creeping deeper toward the forest's heart.
Fortunately, Wang Yu and Avia had detected the devil's insidious power and warned the elves of this imperceptible corruption.
A roar split the air. A pillar of searing flame erupted from the wand of an elven spellcaster, sweeping through a trench carved by one of the war-trees.
Beneath the overturned earth, grotesque, sinewy roots writhed like living tendrils of flesh. The flames clung to them, reducing them to ash as they convulsed in agony.
"I never would've believed it," the spellcaster muttered, glancing at the charred remnants. "Devils… I always thought them relics of ancient records. Yet here they...
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