A vast war unfolded in the heart of Battlezone 2. The knights and slaves of the northern troops clashed against the southern treemen formation tirelessly. Their impetuses stirred the ground and violent mana was sent flying everywhere. The slaves’ guttural roar resonated across the bloody battlefield. Mucus of various colours rained down on the invaders. Most of the gooey substance was green but as unassuming as it looked, it eroded everything it came in contact with within seconds.
With their gargantuan circumference of at least ten metres, the treemen dragged their heavy limbs forward. Their sturdy body reflected off the northern troops’ attacks like a stubborn wall. A dark green sabre-toothed dragon slammed its streamlined body against the tree. Its efforts were futile, for it had been severely dwarfed by the tree. The dragon had only managed to jostle the tree ever so slightly.
The treeman retaliated, slamming its woody fist down accompanied by a gust of wind. Despite the dragon’s tough scales and excellent high-rank major monster capabilities, its spine shattered immediately upon impact. It let out an agonising screech. Its body was mauled unnaturally, forcing its white bones to pierce through the softer skin of its belly. The sabre-toothed dragon’s excellent bloodline and bestial resilience gave it the power to hold on longer, which was a curse rather than a blessing in its current predicament, prolonging its agony instead of granting a swift death.
The death of the sabre-toothed dragon was nothing in the game of war. It could be easily replaced by other slaves and the Three Western Isles had plenty of them to spare. On the other end, a high-rank flaming lizard waited for an opening. It darted its sizzling tongue for a treeman’s shoulder, leaving behind a burnt imprint.
The treeman was held down by relentless slaves. Noticing the opportunity, a base-rank coldwater marine salamander crawled towards its feet, unleashing an acute freezing attack. The tree’s feet were turned into icicles, which effectively dampened its movements. The salamander had frozen the treeman and the slaves that clung to it. These achievements went unnoticed for the battlefield was just pure chaos. Lives were lost at every given second; it was a battle that spared no one.
More slaves threw themselves onto the frozen treeman, taking the advantage of its waving fists to advance further up its body. They sunk their fangs and claws into its trunk. The utilisation of mana was a skill capable of higher lifeforms, after all. Most slaves had to depend on brute force to tide them over the war.
Despite the treeman’s gigantic size, it was stuck in a sticky situation. Various creatures attacked it relentlessly; it’d just removed one of them and another was already tearing at its sides. The scratches across its bark were increasing by the second, maroon blood smeared across the coarse woody surface, mixing with the green tree fluids that began to seep through its skin.
The treeman was supposed to be as strong as level-one lifeforms, yet it was ultimately overwhelmed by the slaves’ sheer number. It began to slow down, exhaustion evident. Its wounds continued to pile up, it was only a matter of time till its defeat.
Many treemen clambered away with deadly wounds after demolishing their opponents. The place was absolutely filled with slaves. The trees stumbled in their footsteps, slowed movements making them easy targets for the casters’ spells. Many had died from the assault of intense concentration of spells, with many others completely bisected. Their excellent defence was incredibly primitive when faced with advanced alchemical technology and impetus. Yet, most of the treemen had succumbed to the never-ending attacks of the maniacal slaves.
The slaves craved death for it was a relief. Their madness was only reserved for their enemies, after all. Apart from the four hundred thousand slave creatures sent to various battle zones, most of the newly arrived batch was dispatched for this battle against the Holy City. Their death count was by the ten thousand; a third of the Three Western Isles’ cannon fodders were already lost to war in just slightly over a month. It was a pity that their sacrifices were nothing but a statistic to the Sanctum and Hall of Knights.
The outcome of the war was growing progressively clearer. Following Odis’ surprising attack that destroyed half of the treemen formation, the Botanians' chance at survival was gradually dimmed. It didn’t help that the Three Western Isles picked up their pace and soon enough, the Botanians had already lost half of Battlezone 2 to their invaders.
The World Tree watched the distant battle from the horizon. The imminent catastrophe of Botania was getting too close for comfort. A short distance behind the war-ridden Botanian front was a huge capital city named Tendril City. Goldy, the sunflower priest, paced atop its citadel restlessly. The battle ahead had gone into a stalemate and its patience was wearing thin.
“Send another fifty thousand soldiers to the northeast!” Goldy dragged a Botanian city lord over by its collar. Right at that moment, three treemen at the northeast of the formation had fallen.
The city lord dared not dally. It quickly ordered its subordinates to rush to the northeastern front’s aid. The Botanians possessed the numerical advantage in this war. However, Botanians capable of becoming prominent leaders were rare. A Botanian city with a population of a few ten thousand would only see the birth of a level-one lifeform every two hundred years on average, which was a higher probability than in the Three Western Isles. There were only a few level-one-Ritter emergences across a few generations even with the Faustian Kingdom’s sizeable population. Even so, it was worth remembering that the Zauberian forces had only consisted of caster and knights of the Three Western Isles.
The minor plane was larger than the Three Western Isles combined. Apart from that, only those above high-rank Knechts and mid-rank Lehrlings were allowed to participate in the planar war. They’d even made sure to handpick slaves that were at least mid-rank major monsters to be cannon fodder.
As a result, the fifty thousand Botanians on the frontline could only last a good moment for they were only as strong as low-rank Knechts or worse, beginner Knechts. Their success was so unlikely that even Botanian leaders failed to see a favourable outcome. Despite that, it was still the Botanian leaders’ duty to defend their homeland.