For the Aethelgard tribe, the end did not begin with fire, but with sound. The screeching crunch of millions of mandibles snapping at an irregular rhythm.
In the tongue of the elves, the word for "forest" and "mother" is the same. But what Sylah saw before her was no longer a mother, but the dying shadow of a helpless soul, clinging to its final breaths while its withered body was devoured alive.
The Great Canopy, which once filtered the light of three moons, was now a skeleton of white, dry branches. The leaves were nearly extinct. The sap was close to becoming a distant legend. The Leaf-eaters had taken it all.
[The magic is almost gone...] — whispered Squadron Leader Kaelen, wiping sweat from his brow. His breathing was ragged, his lungs filled with spores and dust.
Before them lay the sacred valley of Aethelgard, once a vivid and multicolored bastion. It had turned into a gray, pulsating carpet. A gargantuan nest stretching to the horizon, made of stone, bone, and the dead wood of the world.
And the Great Tree of Aethelgard, an immovable colossus that reached for the stars. The mother who for countless millennia had sheltered her people. It was now the last shade of green in a plain of putrid death.
But they all knew... it wouldn't last long.
Because what they were facing was not an invasion. It was an insatiable virus. A pure mass of destruction, born of the rancor and rot that corrodes the soul.
[They're coming, Kaelen] — Sylah said, feeling the itch on her skin.
Her deep bond with the ancient tree, thanks to her noble lineage, allowed her to sense danger—invisible to others—long before it arrived.
CRAAA-CK
With a sudden tremor, the ground at the base of the tree cracked open, and from the fissure emerged a storm, creatures climbing over one another like a tide of black oil. There was no hatred or conviction in their advance, only the unstoppable desire to consume.
[FIREEEEEEEEE!] – The voice, heavy with authority, echoed through the firmament.
Sylah knew that voice better than anyone; it was her father, the High Commander of the army.
BOM BOM BOM BOM BOM BOM
Soon the battle erupted. Arrows imbued with elemental forces rained down on the swarm that climbed the millennial tree without fear.
Fireballs, water spears, wind blades. From afar, the scene was like watching a multicolored waterfall cascading from the ancient colossus—a fantasy spectacle.
From within, it was a living nightmare as the black tide continued to climb, indifferent to the countless casualties.
[Maintain formation!] — Kaelen shouted, slinging his bow and drawing his sword.
BOM
In their most desperate moment, the entire tree trembled with an explosion of life. The once-withered branches seemed to come alive in a glow that oscillated with every color that once inhabited the forest.
It was magical, warm, beautiful.
Anyone watching without knowledge might think it a miracle. They might believe the elves' prayers had been heard by the gods.
But the elves knew the truth, and Sylah knew it even better than most.
[Mother...] – she whispered, her voice barely a choked breath as she felt the tree's last strength slowly extinguishing.
Yet, in that dying tree, there was no fear, anger, or disappointment.
Only the final heartbeat of a mother yearning for the survival of her beloved children, even at the cost of her entire being.
[DAMN IT ALL!] – A furious elf roared as he lunged toward the Leaf-eaters who had managed to scale the openings in the tree and were pouring into the city.
His rage was shared by the countless elves around him who knew, even without Sylah's strong connection, that they were destined to lose something far too precious.
The citadel of intertwined branches, which for eons had been a sanctuary of peace, became a slaughterhouse in a matter of seconds.
[Phalanx Formation!] — Kaelen roared.
The soldiers, their silver armor now stained with black liquid, closed ranks on the great bridge. Elven swords sliced through the air, leaving glowing trails that hissed upon contact with chitin.
But the Leaf-eaters didn't fight like honorable enemies. They didn't care about dying. They threw themselves onto the blades just so the weight of their corpses would trip the defenders, allowing those behind them to leap over.
Sylah saw a companion being dragged into the black tide. There was no scream, only the wet sound of hundreds of small teeth crushing metal and bone simultaneously.
[Don't break the line!] — Kaelen shouted, decapitating a beast in mid-air. [If we fall here, they'll reach the civilians!] — he continued. His sword, which once shone with the light of the three moons, was now a dull piece of metal.
Meanwhile, the millennial tree creaked beneath their feet, its colossal body now a dying husk struggling to hold on for at least one more breath, while its sap was drained and its leaves torn away, one bite at a time.
[Father...] — Sylah looked toward the upper platform, where the Grand General commanded the final defense.
Her father didn't watch the battle with despair, but with cold acceptance. He knew, as she did, that this wasn't about winning. It was only about buying time.
Then, the buzzing changed. The chaotic sound of a thousand shrieked unified into a single low tone, a vibration that made Sylah's teeth chatter.
Crack
The tremor came with a crunch that, for others, might have been simple wood being splintered, but for the elves, it was like driving a dagger into their hearts and twisting it.
From the lowest part of the city, dozens of meters below at the tree's base, a hole no less than 10 meters high tore open.
And then, amidst rubble and withered splinters, it emerged.
GRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII
The shriek resonated with such force that even the other Leaf-eaters shuddered.
crack crack crack
As if dragged from hell itself, a Leaf-eater as large as a small building emerged. Its shell wasn't black, but a deep red, veined with white scars. It used legs as thick as pillars to climb the tree through what was once the elven city of Aethelgard.
[IT'S THE QUEEN!] — An elf shouted before a bone spike pierced his chest.
[FALL BACK!] — Sylah's father's voice thundered from the upper platform. [ALL ELITE AND LOWER SQUADRONS TO THE SANCTUARY! THE ROYAL GUARD WILL COVER THE RETREAT!]
[BUT FATHER!]
[SYLAH, THAT'S AN ORDER! TAKE THE YOUTH!] – the old general roared, his eyes leaving no room for argument before he, along with dozens of elven knights and elders, leaped fearlessly from the heights, straight toward the Leaf-eater Queen.
In their wake, the wind roared like a storm, multicolored magic obliterating thousands of Leaf-eaters, leaving behind nothing but a black smear of oily blood. Until finally, the group and the Queen collided.
BOM GRIAAAAAAA
In a matter of seconds, the battle broke out, and the once-majestic kingdom was ravaged by a storm of magic and mass.
Of course, the rest of the Leaf-eaters didn't stand still watching their queen being attacked.
Soon, all ranks—from scouts no bigger than a cat to elite guards and colossi larger than a truck—flung themselves against the elves' ultimate military force.
[... Run!] — Sylah finally shouted, tears of rage burning her eyes. [Upward! To the sanctuary in the crown! We'll use the gate to escape!] — she continued.
Only then did the surviving elven warriors and civilian volunteers snap back to their senses. Their faces, marked by helpless fury, obeyed.
The race was a vertical nightmare. They climbed, parkouring between buildings, alleys, and stairs, pursued by the incessant sound of claws scraping against bark.
Every meter they climbed, the tree felt colder. The leaves turned gray and crumbled at the touch.
Finally, they reached the top of the tree, the highest platform, exposed to the sick, gray sky.
In its center stood the sanctuary of their people, a fortified cathedral glowing with ancient patterns, ready for use.
At the entrance, a woman who could only be described as a goddess on earth watched the group of bloodied warriors arrive, and her expression couldn't help but crumble for a second.
Looking at her mother, Sylah couldn't stop her eyes from filling with tears, but there was no time for that.
[Those who still have strength, hold the rear until everyone is inside,] – Kaelen ordered.
Sylah immediately took her position. But fate, cruel and capricious, had other plans.
BOM
The sky didn't darken. It broke. A sound that did not belong to nature, a rift that split it in two. A golden light—alien to elven magic, alien to the plague, alien to everything ever seen—descended upon them.
And then, the world turned white.
NOTE: This entry technically belongs a few chapters back, but I forgot to include it. I've fixed it now—if you haven't seen it yet, here it is; if you already have, feel free to ignore it.
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DIARY ENTRY NO: 308
SCIENTIFIC NAME: Nemus Vastator
REGIONAL ALIASES:
Biblical Scriptures (Apocrypha): The Hosts of Abaddon (Locusts of the Abyss).
Japanese Folklore: Jubokko-no-mushi (Parasites of the Vampire Tree).
Medieval Bestiaries: Myrmecoleon (The Ant-Lion).
Rat kid network: Debarling
NICKNAME (ASTRAD): Termites with "Wallhack"
📊 THREAT EVALUATION CLASSIFICATION: VENATOR (Swarm) / PARASITUS
They operate as a cyclical plague, similar to locusts, but carnivorous and with a nasty attitude. They aren't problematic because of quality, but rather quantity and persistence.
DANGER LEVEL: YELLOW (3 stars)
Individually, a Debarling doesn't have much to offer, but it's far from harmless. Even so, the real problem is that they never come alone. If you see one, there are ten watching you. A swarm can make things escalate from a problem to a catastrophe in a matter of seconds, depending on the size. Also, if they mark you, you're dead.
AGGRESSION LEVEL: OPPORTUNISTIC / RELENTLESS (Under Mark)
They have two AI modes:
Passive/Opportunistic Mode: They collect biomatter and attack only if it's an easy kill.
"Berserker" Mode (Relentless): If they apply their lock-on pheromone, they ignore their own survival to ensure the kill. They throw themselves at you like kamikazes. (I don't have a fucking clue about the conditions for applying or not applying their shitty mark).
🧬 COMBAT SHEET (TL;DR) TYPE:
Beast / Insectoid (Plant Biomimicry)
AFFINITY: Physical
🎯 PRIMARY WEAKNESSES:
Fire: They burn particularly well.
Just like an insect, it is quite likely that shrill sounds and certain frequencies affect them considerably.
📌 KEY STRENGTHS:
The Mark (Debuff): A chemical fluid that attracts every Debarling within kilometers.
Camouflage: When motionless, they look like piles of leaves and dry branches.
📚 ORIGINS AND COMPARATIVE MYTHOLOGY
The Apocalypse of St. John (Bible): There is something eerily similar between these bugs and the biblical text of Revelation 9:3-4. The passage describes locusts coming out of the smoke of the abyss, which were commanded "not to harm the grass, but only the men." My theory is simple: ancient texts misinterpreted their behavior. They weren't following a divine order; they simply ignored common flora because they were looking for a richer energy source. (Your guts).
Greek Mythology (The Dryads): The legends of protective tree nymphs (Hamadríades) could be a romantic and erroneous interpretation of a Debarling swarm covering a tree. The Truth: Ancient Greeks saw a tree move and attack a woodcutter and thought "oh, it's a guardian spirit." No, it was a colony of these camouflaged bugs defending their nest. Humanity beautified a plague and called it a "nymph."
Criptozoology (The Giant Stick Insect): There are 19th-century reports in Southeast Asia of aggressive phasmids (stick insects). It's possible this species always existed, dormant or in small numbers, mistaken for simple branches by entomologists.
📝 DETAILED ANALYSIS PHYSICAL AND SENSORY DESCRIPTION:
They are small creatures (the size of a medium dog or a large badger), with segmented bodies covered in rough plates that perfectly mimic tree bark and rotten leaf litter. They possess six very thin and elongated limbs ending in hooks to climb trees at breakneck speed. Their most distinctive feature is their disproportionate jaws, capable of crushing green wood and bone alike. They smell of rancid resin and damp earth. When moving in a group, they produce a characteristic sound ("clack-clack-clack") similar to branches clashing in the wind, which often camouflages their advance.
☣️ PROTOCOLS RECOMMENDED ENCOUNTER PROTOCOL:
DO:
Use fire (torches, flamethrowers, molotovs). Fear of fire is their only instinct for self-preservation.
Loud noises should work, but I don't think all types... maybe metallic ones? Or ultra-frequencies?
If you are marked… I don't know… run and see; if you survive, tell me.
DON'T:
Camp in areas with a lot of dead wood or exposed roots.
Show weakness.
Be without a functional fire source.
FIELD REPORT: (Extract from the Diary of a Human Explorer, Oldwood Frontier)
"...we've been in absolute silence for two hours. The Sergeant says the forest is listening to us. I think he's going crazy. There are no birds, just that damn sound... clack-clack-clack... like someone is tapping wooden sticks. It's constant….
A moment ago, Jenson leaned against a fallen tree to tie his boot. The tree... the tree opened up. It wasn't bark; it was plates. The thing bit his shoulder before he could scream, leaving the bitten area with a foul black coloration. But before we could even wonder what that damn monster was… the whole ground started moving. There were hundreds of those things. We fought, I swear we did, but it soon became obvious that the creatures had only one objective… Jenson… I'm sorry..."
🎤 ASTRAD'S ANNOTATIONS (THE ONLY SHIT THAT MATTERS):
You know what's the worst part? I can't even trust the fucking firewood anymore. You go to pick up branches to make a campfire and it turns out the "branch" has six legs, a bad attitude, and wants to chew your fingers off.
Nature in this world is a top-tier troll. It designed a termite on steroids and gave it a legendary camouflage skin. Basically, playing hide-and-seek with these bugs is losing by default.
But what really pisses me off is "The Mark" mechanic. It's the most unfair debuff in the game. It's a forced and infinite "Taunt." If that slime lands on you, congratulations: you've just become the protagonist of a horror Hentai, but without the fun part. The whole swarm goes into Berserker mode and you are the only NPC on the map.