Mage Legend

A billow of white mist rose from the river's surface, marking the final imprint left by the Ghosts and Vampires in this world. The mighty blessing power completely obliterated these things from the Undead World. No one knows where the souls, who had already lost their lives once, would drift to, but one could be certain they would never return to the Undead World. Compared to reliving that gray and hopeless space, complete annihilation might be a better choice.

"Praise the Moonlight Goddess!" The elves would not show any pity towards these invaders. Many of their comrades on the front lines did not return, and those elves who had not encountered the Banshees did not know how those sacrificed. Yet, it was evident that those Elf Warriors had given their precious lives. The elves had almost infinite time to experience life, and each individual was like a chronicle of history. Therefore, the loss of any soul was tantamount to erasing the past of the entire elf race.

The Vampires were utterly powerless against this silver path paved by the Priests. Once injured, they could only choose to flee as fast as possible, hiding in dark corners to slowly repair their bodies. Because Vampires had a self-repair ability that Ghosts lacked, the elves targeted their attacks especially at those attempting to flee.

The Ghosts instinctively sensed the powerful Holy Power ahead, gradually slowing their advance. Although the order from their master "to advance constantly" could never be disobeyed, slowing the speed was within their capability. When the first wave of Undead Monsters crashed into this defensive wall, they shattered like waves against reefs, leaving nothing but a few droplets of mist.

Not even a sound remained. The entire forest grew utterly silent, the whoosh of arrows and the lofty hymns of sacred songs disappeared completely. The Undead vanished as if they had never appeared.

Not a single trace of movement could be found among the trees, only the white fog slowly spread. Even with a slight breeze blowing through, not a leaf could produce the usual rustling sound, everything was frozen.

Only the trembling arrow feather on the trunk documented the events that had transpired here not long ago.

"What's going on?" an elf archer said. His voice was low and light, mixed with a slight, trembling hoarseness. He stood upright in surprise, feeling odd about his own voice.

Anxiety gradually spread, the unknown assault must still be looming. The comrades who did not return had already revealed the battle's cruelty—they perished as a squad, none escaped. This could only mean that the enemy had stronger entities than Ghosts and Vampires.

From afar in the forest, a wailing sound slowly drifted, the kind of mournful cry gradually dismantling the elves' courage, making them ponder the dark fate: when they perished, how sorrowful would the songs their kin sing in mourning be? Would those emotions be the last relic they leave to this world?

'Run while there's still time…' Some elves began to harbor this thought, like a black plague sprouting deep in the soil, breeding and destroying the trees within their souls.

"Shall we let the enemy's song echo forever in the Elf Forest, in our homes?" An elf shouted with all their might, "Have we elves forgotten to sing!"

No more words were needed, nor more explanations, the elves didn't care where this shouting warrior came from. The elves around him awakened from a deep slumber, parted their parched lips, and began to sing, their voices rising from low to high. Unanimously, the elves chose a song praising the Moonlight Goddess, perhaps because the Priests of the Moon God stood by their side. From the first high tower, other points began to follow. This singing gradually spread throughout the forest, like beacons of hope, completely suppressing the Banshees' cries.

Every elf hearing this song clearly understood: even in this isolated tower, they were not alone; their kin and relatives were fighting alongside them, their destinies and bloodlines forever linked. Thus, even the youngest warrior no longer felt fear; even the most novice Priest did not tremble when singing despite their inexperience. This single melody could replace all the sacred songs, for it was sung from the heart.