The air grew heavier as Carlos and Lys approached the ancient tree. Towering before them, the Heart of the Grove pulsed with
a slow, rhythmic glow — a deep blue light rippling beneath its twisted, blackened bark. The forest seemed to hold its breath
around them, shadows clustering closer, as if waiting to see what would happen next.
Carlos tightened his grip on the Blade of Ascension, feeling its hum resonate through his palm. The sword had grown stronger
since the first battle, its power fueled by each challenge overcome, each enemy defeated. But here, in the very heart of the
curse, Carlos felt a chilling weight press down on his spirit — an invisible force that whispered doubt and despair.
Lys crouched near the base of the tree, her fingers tracing the glowing runes carved into its roots. "This tree is the source of
the curse that binds this realm," she said softly. "Destroy it, and the forest's hold on us will weaken. The spirits trapped here will
finally be free."
Carlos nodded. "Then let's end this nightmare."
No sooner had he spoken than the ground around them trembled. From the earth, pale figures began to rise — ghostly
remnants of players who had fallen victim to the curse, their faces twisted in eternal agony. They reached out with translucent
hands, their hollow eyes locked on Carlos and Lys.
"Get ready!" Lys hissed, drawing her twin daggers.
The spirits surged forward, wailing in anguish. Carlos swung his sword in a wide arc, the Blade of Ascension slicing through the
ethereal forms. The air crackled as the sword's energy met the curse, burning away the dark magic that clung to the spirits.
Despite their spectral nature, the spirits fought fiercely, their mournful cries echoing through the forest like a chorus of despair.
Lys darted between the attackers, her blades flashing with precision, cutting through shadows and pain. Carlos moved beside
her, their movements synchronized in desperate combat.
The battle dragged on, exhaustion clawing at Carlos's muscles. But with every spirit he struck down, the blue light from the
Heart of the Grove pulsed faster, brighter. He could feel the curse weakening — a fragile hope blossoming in the oppressive
gloom.
Finally, with a roar, Carlos raised the Blade of Ascension high and brought it down in a crushing blow against the tree's core.
The runes shattered, splintering like glass, and a shockwave of energy radiated outward. The spirits screamed, their forms
dissolving into shimmering motes of light that drifted skyward.
Silence fell.
Carlos and Lys stood panting, staring at the now-dormant tree. The forest around them seemed lighter, less oppressive — as
though a heavy shroud had been lifted.
But before they could celebrate, a shadow flickered above them in the treetops. Hidden from view, a figure watched — eyes
gleaming with cold amusement. This battle was only the beginning.
"Carlos," Lys said, her voice steady but low, "we've weakened the curse, but I fear the real enemy has yet to reveal itself."
Carlos nodded, sensing the truth in her words. The Helm of Realms had drawn him here for a reason. The game was far from
over.
And somewhere, deep within the shadows of the Abyssal Grove, a new threat was awakening.