World of Agatha - 20 From Wood To Stone

Sylvan grasped deep within his body, trying to catch something.

“Thorn whip.”

In his hand, the dryad held a long cordon full of spikes.

This was one of his kind’s most important trump cards. As dryads grow older, parts of their bodies adapt granting than special benefits.

Some developed very resilient scales to protect the most critical portions of their bodies, while others even had natural wands or staves, which greatly increased their magical capabilities.

But sylvan’s adaptation was this terrifying whip.

….

Green Thunder was dead, yet Rosalyn moved even faster than her former mount.

“Tap”, ” tap”, “tap”.

Her movements were light, propelling the body with the tips of her feet. It wasn’t the walk of a warrior, but the gracious striding of a natural-born predator.

For one moment, Sylvan even though there was a massive wolf phantom behind the berserker, mimicking her every movement, almost as if it was her true ethereal form.

He tried to wield the whip and fend off her attack, but her great speed caught him off guard.

With a few malicious strikes, Sylvan’s footing was thrown off balance, making him take three steps back.

And than.

“BAM”

The dryad could fell Rosalyn’s powers increasing little by little.

This last strike was so mighty that even though he fully blocked with the whip and several reinforced branches, Meatgrinder still connected with his body making a tiny scratch on his abs.

But from this scratch, the hammer found a new source to quench its growing hunger.

“She wants to suck me dry!”

Sylvan retreated once more with a terrible realization.

“If this was a larger wound, that woman could have extracted all of my sap.”

But then.

“Crash.”

Sylvan slipped on something and fell flat on the muddy ground.

But it wasn’t mud.

“I forgot about the blood. Could that hammer have made me fall on purpose?”

He had heard about intelligent magic items on the past by they were supposed to be very rare. Could this be one such item?

“I caught you now!”

Rosalyn stroke with precision, trying to finish off the fallen enemy.

….

Back when Theodore, the hunter, was fighting against the dryad, he thought that his senses had failed him.

But this was only partially true.

Sylvan’s magic wasn’t flashy. He didn’t favor direct attacks like the druid’s Thunderous Cloud, but instead firmly relied on more underhanded methods.

Counterspells were particularly useful, destroying the enemy’s plans when least expected.

But there was another powerful weapon. One which was even more subtle. The infamous illusion type magic.

Ted saw nothing because there was nothing to be seen.

Sylvan shrouded his real attacking branches, while the enemy’s attention was grabbed by the decoy.

Now the technique was used at an even larger scale.

Rosalyn was stupefied when the fallen enemy’s disappeared into nothingness.

“Huh?”

Than.

Thorns ripped the flesh, enveloping her whole body.

From an unexpected corner a furious Sylvan revealed himself.

“I went too far for backing down now, monster. Today, this victory belongs to the Feywild!!!”

The dryad swang his whip madly, filling Rosalyn’s body with a thousand cuts. Besides, poison seeped through the wounds, provoking gruesome blisters.

“It’s done! She is as good as dead!”

Sylvan was happy, yet there was some part of him that was still filled with doubt.

Unfortunately, this bad premonition proved correct as the berserker made use of her bare hands, grasping the whip and breaking herself free.

Rosalyn was burned, cut and poisoned. Her form was destroyed beyond any recognition. Yet, deep in her eyes burned a flame imperishable, an indomitable will with no signs of breaking.

It was terrifying, yet hauntingly beautiful to behold.

…

“GROAN!”

Sylvan was desperately calling for every surviving treant under his control in order for them to join this battle.

“This monster cannot be allowed to live. As long as she breathes, her very existence is a treat to fey folk everywhere. I need to do this!”

Both sides had long reached a point of no return.

Now, there could be no survival without victory.

Rosalyn easily dispatched the first batch of treants, cutting through them like a hot knife against butter.

But Sylvan never intended for these minions to cause any real damage on his enemy. Their role was to gather information.

“Is it only my impression or are her powers increasing as her wounds grow more severe? No. This is crazy!”

But if this wasn’t the case, so why was Rosalyn, wounded as she was delivering blows mightier than anything she could have mustered before?

Using the distraction provided by his servants, the dryad poured a lot of mana into the whip. Now, instead of only one end, there three.

When they enveloped three berserker, its spikes grew massive, cutting her until the bones, exposing them.

Yet the bloodied and corpse-looking monster would not yield.

She resisted for quite a while until the spell’s duration ended and the extremity became only one once more.

Making a difficult choice she jumped backward in a gruesome maneuver.

Gruesome because the thorns which held her ripped massive chunks of flesh.

Sylvan smiled.

He could tell. For the first time since the battle began she was finally getting weaker.

Victory was within his grasp, if only for a short moment.

…..

“Dark Healing.”

Sylvan felt strange.

Through him spread a tingling sensation, as the skin began to twist and bulge unnaturally.

“Dispel.”

Sylvan ended the terrifying effect which was quickly destroying his body.

But he was to slow to react against this next move.

A shadow advanced decisively.

“Crash.”

Morgana smashed a vial of gray liquid against the dryad’s body with instantaneous results.

And just like the plant in her lab, the dryad turned into stone.

“Success!”

She exclaimed in ecstasy.

…..

“Good… Very good… You seem like… A fine opponent… Let’s fight!!!”

Rosalyn’s vocal cords had been damaged by the whip, making it difficult for her to speak properly.

But even at this sorry state. Even though at this point her body was more exposed bones than anything else, she still felt an insatiable blood lust.

For Rosalyn Morgana was just another enemy to face. Consumed by savagery, she would just keep fighting until the ultimate destruction, hers or everyone else’s.

Such is the nature of demons.

But Morgana only looked at her with cold on the eyes and said.

“No.”

Rosalyn blinked for a few moments, not knowing how to react.

“What?!”

“You heard me, Rosalyn. I won’t fight you.”

Fury began to burn in the berserker’s heart as she looked angrily at the dark wizard.

“It’s not like… you have a choice… That was my prey… Since you… stole it from me… you”ll just have to… take his place…”

However, Morgana was still unfazed. With great calm, she said.

“Just drop the hammer and move on.”

And after a brief pause, she continued.

“We both know that you are no longer a part of this world.”

Rosalyn was full of doubt.

“But… I want to keep fighting… Why do I have… to move on?”

“The path you chose is a journey with no return. If you want to keep fighting, you can. Just not now. You understand what I mean, right?”

The gnome sighed softly and answered.

“Thank you.”

Saying so, Rosalyn dropped the hammer. And blood spurted profusely from the many many wounds she carried.

In a short amount of time, her body became dry and pale.

The knees gave up and she collapsed on the ground.

Rosalyn died with a smile on her face.

Even Morgana couldn’t help but give the corpse a meaningful look.