Chapter: The Druid's Dominion
The woods grew darker as they advanced—thicker with fog, heavier with ancient breath. What once felt like sacred forest now churned with restless energy. Fern could feel it vibrating beneath her skin—the imbalance. The corruption. Something was stirring the woodland heart into anger.
And the forest had sent its guardians… twisted.
Out from the trees, from the lakeside shallows, from hollowed logs and thick moss, came the assault: packs of Woodland Demons, bark-skinned beasts of snarling vine and bark, flanked by slithering Lake Demons, oily and glistening with swamp-born slime and jagged fangs.
They were all Blue Rank, some with glowing eyes, others with claws of glassy crystal or dripping poison. But none of them were prepared for Fern.
With her feet firm in the soil and staff pulsing with green Vita, Fern stood like a pillar in the chaos. She raised her hand—
"Bind."
Roots exploded upward from the ground, wrapping demons mid-lunge, dragging them back into the earth with strangled shrieks.
"Cleanse."
A flick of her wrist and a wave of green light burst outward, dissolving lake-born corruption and causing even oily-skinned horrors to vaporize into mist.
Leaves spiraled around her, sharpened into windblades. Vines lashed from her staff like whips of living magic. Thorn-tipped brambles erupted in waves, knocking enemies aside like dolls. Even the fiercest demon—an armored dryad with clawed limbs and blue flame in its heart—was crushed beneath a summoned stone root, as wide as a cart and twice as heavy.
Oliver fought at her side, slashing and parrying with his iron sword, the Systematic Guide offering constant alerts—but even he couldn't keep pace with Fern's fluid destruction.
At one point, a jagged vine demon lashed toward him—he cut it down, but not before a shard grazed his shoulder. He hissed, staggering briefly.
Fern was already beside him.
She pressed two fingers to his wound, and her hand glowed with soft, green light. The pain vanished. The skin closed. His breath steadied.
He looked up at her—surprised.
"…Thanks."
Fern didn't look at him. Her eyes stayed on the field. "Don't fall."
She turned, cloak flaring behind her as she stepped forward once more, facing the final wave of monsters without flinching.
One after another, the demons fell.
Root. Flame. Vine. Water.
It didn't matter.
Nature obeyed her.
When the last demon shattered into dust, the battlefield fell quiet. The forest, though still tense, seemed to breathe again—like it was recognizing her, remembering its true self through her presence.
Oliver straightened, wiping his blade. "You just… fought twenty demons and didn't blink."
Fern simply looked forward, her voice calm and unreadable. "This is my forest."
And with that, she moved on.
Stoic.
Silent.
And still undefeated.
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Chapter: Fire on the Water
The path curved along the lake's edge, the waters now calmer after Fern's earlier battle—but the tension had returned. The air shimmered faintly with heat, unnatural and thick. Even the mist parted, wary of what lay ahead.
Fern slowed. Her staff pulsed in warning. "He's here."
Oliver scanned the horizon—and then he saw it.
Atop a boulder rising from the lake's shallow edge stood the Ifrit—a Flame Demon, crackling with molten fire across obsidian skin. Its face twisted in a grin of cinders, horns glowing red-hot, arms wreathed in fire that rippled with unnatural heat. It roared, and the very ground trembled.
"Flame-class—" Oliver began.
"I know," Fern cut in.
He looked at her—surprised, uncertain.
"Your powers—he's fire, you're—"
"Plants burn. But water feeds them." Her voice was calm. Controlled.
With a flick of her wrist, Fern stepped onto the lake's edge. Steam hissed around her as she channeled green Vita, her staff glowing fiercely in the sunlight.
The Ifrit lunged, sending a wave of fire across the water. The flames turned the lake's surface into a boiling field. The earth sizzled, and trees along the bank ignited.
Fern stood unmoved.
"Lake Surge."
She thrust her staff into the water again—and the entire shoreline exploded upward, geysers of water smashing into the Ifrit mid-lunge. Steam burst across the battlefield as the elemental forces collided. The lake hissed and churned. The Ifrit howled in rage.
It charged again, flames surrounding its fists.
Fern responded instantly.
"Tangle Bind!"
From the lakebed and shore, enchanted vines surged—thick, fast, and glowing with a faint blue-green light from lake-infused Vita. They wrapped the Ifrit's legs and arms, resisting the heat with sheer magical force. Steam rose, but the binds held.
Then she raised both hands—
"Shrubby Strike!"
Dozens of tightly packed thorny shrubs burst from the ground beneath the demon, smashing upward like green battering rams. They crashed into the Ifrit with explosive force, thorns piercing its fiery armor, the earth itself aiding Fern's wrath. The creature shrieked as the final blow from a massive root-pillar cracked against its chest and sent it hurtling backward into the lake.
A thunderous BOOM echoed across the shore.
Steam erupted skyward.
And when it cleared… the Ifrit was gone. Vaporized. Reduced to embers and ash, washed away by water and wrath.
Fern lowered her staff. Her cloak was singed, her cheeks dotted with sweat—but her stance remained unshaken. She exhaled slowly, reclaiming her stillness.
Oliver approached, stunned. "That was… incredible. You just beat fire—with a swamp."
She didn't look at him, only the water. "Fire burns wild. But the lake remembers. And I don't forget."
She turned away, staff steady in hand, and walked forward into the trees once more—unchallenged by fire, unbothered by pain.
Behind her, the steam still danced on the water like ghosts.