Real Mount and Blade Game

The moment the sky above Longcheng City was torn apart, the deathly silence was utterly shattered.

Countless fragments of the spirit world, enveloped in dark purple light, crashed to the earth like apocalyptic meteorites, turning the edges of cities and forests into desolate wastelands teeming with eerie sandstorms.

Shen Mu awoke amidst excruciating pain in his soul, and a soldier reported tremblingly, "Sir, Longcheng... is gone."

He staggered up the dilapidated watchtower, only to see the once lush forest being swallowed by the rolling sea of ​​sand, and the dead giant trees standing like black tombstones.

“This isn’t sand…” Shen Mu grabbed a handful of sand, feeling a subtle stinging pain as his soul was being gnawed at in his palm. “This is the remains of another world.”

Deep within the Wood Elf Forest stronghold, the familiar scent, a mixture of decaying leaves and fresh blood, was brutally replaced by a more primal, rough, dry, earthy smell.

Shen Mu's consciousness did not rise naturally from the darkness of slumber, but was forcibly "pulled" back into his body. It was as if countless red-hot steel needles were piercing deep into his brain, churning wildly in that shattered sea of ​​consciousness.

He took a deep breath, his throat making a hoarse, bellows-like sound, and his body convulsed uncontrollably, pulling at every deep, bone-revealing wound. Cold sweat instantly soaked through his thin undergarment.

"My lord! Lord Shen Mu!" A hoarse, tearful voice boomed in his ear, as if through thick frosted glass.

Shen Mu struggled to open his heavy eyelids, and in his blurred vision was the young face of Batu, the Kujit horse archer, which was now completely covered by fear and filth.

Batu's leather armor was shattered, half of his face was covered in dried, blackened blood, and his only remaining left eye was bloodshot, staring intently at him with a sense of despair as if the end of the world was approaching.

"Ba...Tu?" Shen Mu's voice was so weak it was like a sigh, each attempt to gather his spirit bringing an even more intense feeling of his soul being torn apart. He felt like a broken pottery jar that had been barely pieced back together, ready to collapse again at any moment.

"My lord! You're awake! That's wonderful! But...but..." Batu stammered, overwhelmed with fear, barely able to form words. "The sky...the sky is cracked! Longcheng...Longcheng is gone! Outside...everything outside has changed! Monsters! Sand! Sand everywhere!"

Shen Mu's heart felt as if it were being gripped by a cold, iron hand. Yenogu's dying curse—"The spirit world will descend, and you will all become firewood!"—resonated powerfully in his shattered consciousness, clearer than the agony of his soul. He grabbed Batu's arm with a sudden force that made the young archer cry out in pain, but it also cleared a sliver of clarity from his own chaotic senses.

"Help...me up!" Shen Mu gritted his teeth, each word bursting out from between his teeth, carrying an unquestionable command.

"My lady! Your injuries!" Another voice rang out; it was Ysera, the wood elf elder who had stayed behind at the outpost. Her once vibrant green hair was now dull and lifeless, her delicate face etched with weariness and deep worry, and the light at the tip of her staff flickered faintly. She rushed forward, attempting to stop her.

"Help me...to...the watchtower!" Shen Mu's eyes were sharp as knives, piercing through his physical weakness and mental chaos. The will in his eyes was the last steel fire tempered after the annihilation of the Abyss Eye and the backlash of Yenogu's divinity, making Ysera's dissuasion stuck in her throat.

Batu gritted his teeth and, together with another Swadian heavy infantryman who had arrived, practically dragged and carried Shen Mu out of the wooden hut that had been temporarily used as a hospital ward.

The sight that rushed towards him made Shen Mu stop breathing abruptly.

The sky was torn apart.

A massive rift stretched across the sky above the ruins of Longcheng, hanging menacingly there. The rift's edges weren't clean breaks, but rather jagged gaps, as if repeatedly torn and eroded by the most violent forces. Inside wasn't the deep, starry universe, but a churning, indescribable chaotic hue—dark purple, pale green, and murky gray-white intertwined, flowing, and boiling, like pus and blood from another dimension constantly gushing from a gaping wound. Countless tiny fragments of space, burning with the same eerie light, rained down from the rift like an endless meteor shower, crashing onto the already ravaged earth below.

As for the earth itself… Shen Mu’s gaze struggled to shift from the terrifying “Wound of Heaven” to the outside of the stronghold.

The edge of the Wood Elf Forest is being "eaten away".

The once verdant forest boundaries are now being swallowed up by a rapidly expanding, surging, dusky yellow.

That wasn't an ordinary desert, but some kind of...living desert.

The sand and gravel had an eerie, lifeless grayish-yellow hue. It was not still, but rather like a slowly flowing river of sand, or like the skin of some enormous creature breathing, undulating slightly and visibly encroaching on the edge of the forest.

The ancient trees touched by it instantly lost all vitality. Their verdant leaves withered, curled, and turned to ash in mere moments. Their thick branches groaned, rapidly dehydrating, cracking, and disintegrating before finally collapsing with a deafening roar. The instant they touched the shifting sands, they were silently swallowed and decomposed, leaving not a trace behind. The air was thick with a nauseatingly dry, earthy stench, mixed with the acrid smell of rapidly decaying trees; inhaling it felt like swallowing coarse sandpaper.

Further away, the entire ruins of Longcheng and the surrounding plains and hills have been completely covered by this eerie desert.

As far as the eye could see, there was only an undulating, lifeless, gray-yellow sea of ​​sand.

The city's outline, roads, rivers... all traces of civilization have been completely erased and buried. Only the polluted "wound" in the direction of the ancestral tomb remains an ominous black dot, suspended in the sky above the center of the desert, continuously spewing foul energy streams into the huge crack in the sky, like an umbilical cord connecting two destroyed worlds.

A deathly silence hung over the outpost, broken only by the howling wind whipping across the sand and the occasional muffled crash of spatial fragments falling to the ground in the distance. The soldiers huddled behind makeshift fortifications, their faces a mask of post-apocalyptic numbness, profound exhaustion, and the primal fear of this incomprehensible and irresistible natural disaster. Their knuckles were white as they gripped their weapons, their eyes vacant as they stared at the ever-approaching, forest-devouring "living sand."

"How long has it been?" Shen Mu's voice was terribly hoarse. He forced himself not to look at the despairing crack in the sky and focused his attention on the land beneath his feet that was still holding on.

"You were unconscious for about six hours," Alatan Khan's voice came from behind him. The Kujit leader was also covered in blood, his left arm in a sling, and a new, deep wound on his face that exposed bone, the flesh torn open. But he stood straight, his eyes like those of a hawk locking onto its prey, fixed on the advancing sand line at the edge of the forest.

“After the monster died, its wound… suddenly burst open. First, there was light… indescribable light, and then… the sky shattered, and these things…” He pointed to the sky and the sea of ​​sand with his intact right hand, “and just like that, they crashed down.”

Alatan Khan took a deep breath, his voice heavy with suppressed emotion: "My lord, none of the scouts we sent out have returned. The nearest sand line is less than three hundred meters from our outermost barricade. This 'sand'... it not only devours the forest, but those who are close to it say... they feel their souls being sucked away, and their strength drains away incredibly quickly."

As if to confirm Altan Khan's words, a slightly stronger gust of wind whipped up a dust storm, sweeping over the last sparse trees at the edge of the forest and heading towards the stronghold. This dust carried a biting chill, not a physical low temperature, but a sinister cold that sucked away life force. Several nearby Vaegir archers immediately shivered, their faces visibly turning ashen, and they instinctively took a step back.

"Defend!" A veteran Rhodok warrior captain behind the ramparts roared instinctively, his voice hoarse and distorted by fear.

"Hold on!" Shen Mu shouted in a low voice, not loud, but like a stone thrown into a stagnant pool, it carried a strange penetrating power, instantly suppressing the slight commotion. He pushed aside Batu and the soldiers who were supporting him, and staggered forward a few steps until he reached the outermost breastwork of the stronghold, made of thick logs and rocks. Each step aggravated the wounds all over his body, and the excruciating pain in his soul was ever-present, but his back remained ramrod straight.

He reached out, stepping over the rough wooden splinters of the breastwork. A thin stream of grayish-yellow sand, carried by the wind, swirled and landed in his palm.

The feel of it was extremely strange. It wasn't the rough, granular texture of ordinary sand, but rather a... slightly sticky, texture similar to a mixture of crushed bone meal and some kind of dried mycelium. The color was a lifeless, rotten yellow.

Even more chilling was the faint yet incredibly clear suction that came the moment the sand touched his skin! It didn't act on his flesh and blood, but directly targeted the life force flowing beneath his skin, or even… a deeper, primal energy that constituted his soul! A barely perceptible sense of "weariness" and "emptiness" immediately spread from the point of contact. Shen Mu clenched his fist tightly, gripping the strange sand in his palm! A sharp, stinging pain shot from his palm straight to his brain, as if countless tiny, greedy mouthparts were gnawing at his flesh and soul.

He mobilized the shattered spiritual network of [Tallinn], forcibly gathering a faint trace of spiritual power, which he then pierced into the sand in his palm like a probe.

boom!
Chaos, coldness, despair, endless hunger... Countless fragments of negative and violent will, like a filthy tide, instantly poured into Shen Mu's spiritual sea through that weak spiritual connection! These fragments were chaotic and sharp, filled with the most primal hatred and devouring desire for all living beings and for order itself.

They do not belong to any particular individual; rather, they are more like the "emotions" carried by the fundamental laws that constitute this spiritual wasteland.

"Ugh!" Shen Mu groaned, his body swayed violently, his face turned ashen, and a trace of pale gold blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.

He forcefully severed the extremely dangerous mental probe, spreading his five fingers.

The sand in his palm didn't slip away like ordinary sand. It seemed to have lost its support from the wind, hovering eerily for a moment before finally settling down. And where the sand had left, several extremely fine, grayish-white marks, as if burned by strong acid, appeared on Shen Mu's palm!
"This is not sand," Shen Mu's voice was icy cold, carrying a chilling depth that seemed to see into the abyss, echoing clearly in the deathly silence of the stronghold. Every word struck the taut strings of the soldiers' hearts. "This is a corpse from another world, a ground-up skeleton. What it craves... is our lives, our souls, the life force of this last forest beneath our feet!"

His gaze swept across faces filled with fear, despair, or forced resolve, finally settling on the gray-yellow desert that was relentlessly encroaching upon the forest.

"They're here," Shen Mu said, his voice hoarse yet sharp as a blade, as he watched the distorted humanoid figures formed from sand slowly rising from the depths of the desert. "Prepare for battle. For every step we take back, the Wood Elf Forest dies an inch. There is no way back; behind us lies... the end!"

He suddenly drew his broken sword from his waist, the blade pointing at the indistinct, writhing humanoid silhouettes formed by endless sand and dust in the desert.

They have no facial features, no physical form, but are merely sand and dust that constantly condense and disperse, emitting a silent, hungry shriek.

Echoes of Ash: Light's Bulwark

Faced with the humanoid figures formed from sand grains in the desert, Shen Mu drew his broken sword and ordered an attack, but was firmly stopped by Alatan Khan.

“Those are corpses from another world! Attacking them will only drain your soul!” The wood elf elder Isera pointed tremblingly at the spreading living sand.

During the retreat, the Holy Tree Knights paved the way at the cost of their lives, and the Rhodok ballistae turned into bones in the desert.

As the last Khergit archer plunged into the Wood Elf Forest, the ancient Holy Light Torch Tower suddenly lit up, forming a golden curtain of light.

The corpses piled up like mountains before the holy light, yet could not advance an inch.

Shen Mu leaned against the blood-stained breastwork and issued a reinforcement order to Uxhauer: "Send everyone who can carry a shield... This is the last sanctuary beneath our feet."

The broken sword's blade traced a resolute arc in the dim light, pointing directly at the writhing, coalescing sandy desert ahead.

"Remnants of the Allied Forces!"

Shen Mu's voice ripped through the suffocating silence, carrying an undeniable iron will. Every word struck the taut heartstrings of the surviving warriors like a hammer blow: "Target: the mutated zombies ahead! Form ranks, attack! Crush them back into that shattered world!"

His chest heaved violently, each breath aggravating the unhealed wounds of his body and the shattered pain deep within his soul. The destruction of Longcheng's ruins, the lifeless, desolate sea of ​​sand before him, and the twisted human figures solidifying in the sand, emitting silent howls... all of this was like a scorching hot iron, burning away his reason.

The passage that Kalanzo and countless Holy Tree Knights risked their lives for was not meant for them to cower in this crumbling stronghold and watch helplessly as the world is devoured by the corpses of another world!

Fight! Charge out! It seemed that only the destruction of the enemy could slightly quell the rage and helplessness that was almost burning him up.

Wherever the sword points, the desert boils.

Countless shells formed from grayish-white sand were slowly rising, their shapes twisted and grotesque, like clay figures carelessly kneaded and discarded by a child. They had no facial features, only empty holes representing mouths, opening and closing silently, emanating a soul-freezing greed originating from death itself in this other world. Quicksand swirled beneath their feet, and a thin, visible white mist—the breath of life—was forcibly stripped from a few tenacious shrubs at the edge of the stronghold, flowing into these sandy shells.

"My lord! No!" A desperate cry rang out almost simultaneously with Shen Mu's command. The Kujit leader, Alatan Khan, his burly body shifting like an iron tower, used his flesh and blood to block the direction of Shen Mu's sword.

His bloodshot single eye stared intently at Shen Mu, his gaze devoid of fear, only filled with an almost tragic urgency.

“That’s not an enemy we can charge into head-on! That’s…that’s the corpse of another world of utter death! If we deliberately crash into it, our souls and our strength will be drained instantly!”

Almost at the same instant, the withered hand of the Wood Elf Elder Isera gripped Shen Mu's sword-wielding wrist with immense force.

Her body trembled violently with fear and weakness as she pointed to the patch of living sand that was rapidly spreading toward the edge of the forest. Her voice was choked with sobs, yet unusually sharp: "Look! Lord Shen Mu, look! That sand... it's 'eating'! Eating life, eating souls! Rushing in is just giving them nourishment! What use are our swords and blades if they're just cutting into the sand?"

As if to confirm their despair, less than a hundred paces outside the fortress's breastwork, a Viktor heavy infantryman who had been seriously wounded and leaning against the outermost giant tree let out a short, shrill scream.

He struggled to retreat, but it was as if he were seized by an invisible giant hand, and he was thrown forward, half of his body sinking into the edge of the suddenly thickened and softened sand. A visible pale aura surged wildly from his seven orifices, disappearing into the sand. The soldier's skin lost its luster at an alarming rate, turning ashen and stone-like. His struggle froze instantly, leaving only half of his desiccated body, as if it had been weathered in the desert for thousands of years, which was quickly swallowed by the sand.

The Swadian heavy infantrymen in the front ranks, witnessing this scene, instantly lost all color in their resolute faces. Some instinctively took a small step back, their heavy iron boots dragging on the muddy ground with a harsh scraping sound.

Fear, like a cold, venomous snake, instantly devoured the meager fighting spirit that Shen Mu had just ordered to ignite.

Charge out? Charge into that sea of ​​sand that can instantly drain the life from the earth? This is no longer a battle, it's a suicide sacrifice!

Shen Mu's arm trembled violently under the double restraint of Isera and Alatan Khan, and the broken sword almost slipped from his grasp.

He stared intently at the half-buried Vikya soldier's desiccated corpse, then abruptly turned back, his bloodshot gaze sweeping over the blood-stained, exhausted faces behind him, faces filled with fear and bewilderment.

The Rhodok crossbowmen gripped their cold crossbow arms tightly, their knuckles white; the few remaining Holy Tree Knights leaned on their broken longswords, their holy light dimmed like a flickering candle in the wind; the Khergit tightened their grip on the reins of their warhorses, but their once mighty steppe companions now pawed at the ground in unease and snorted in fear. (End of Chapter)