Chapter 1223
Silvermoon Elf, Sunfire Elf, Nightshade Elf, Songblade Elf...
The corpses of pureblood elves were everywhere. Once the exalted rulers of the Nesser Dynasty, these elves—so proud, so untouchable—now lay abandoned like refuse, their bodies tossed about as if the world itself had grown weary of their existence...
As I pressed on, just as expected, dragon corpses began to appear—then came the Chromatic Dragons. Each colossal Chromatic Dragon, a mountain of scales and bone, lay scattered around the Stellar Path, with the bodies of pureblood elves draped carelessly atop those monstrous remains...
In less than three minutes, Leon’s eyes fell upon the corpse of a Three-Headed Golden Dragon.
He stood frozen, staring at the Three-Headed Golden Dragon’s corpse for several seconds. The shock hit him in waves—an emotion so raw and overwhelming, he couldn’t even begin to process it. Was this fear, awe, or something darker?
What happened here? Where was this place? What happened here? The question echoed in his mind, relentless, as if the world itself demanded an answer.
Unbidden, Leon recalled the horrors he'd witnessed on the journey to the Apocalypse Plane.
Countless dragon corpses. Pureblood elves, strewn without number. And the rare Chromatic Dragons—their bodies littered the ground, stretching endlessly into the horizon.
Even the mightiest of the Chromatic Dragons—the Three-Headed Golden Dragon, a being whose power rivaled gods and demons—had met its end here. The air itself seemed to mourn their passing.
And now, even here, the corpse of a Three-Headed Golden Dragon lay abandoned... as if the universe itself had grown indifferent to legends.
The Three-Headed Golden Dragon was dead, yet its eyes remained open—hollow, staring endlessly into the depths of the Stellar Path, as if searching for meaning in the void. Whatever emotion lingered there was lost to time.
Leon furrowed his brow and trudged onward, every step weighing heavier. The shock was fading, replaced by a dull numbness—perhaps the mind’s only defense against so much ruin.
Pureblood elves, once legendary for their rarity, now littered the ground like refuse. Even the elusive Chromatic Dragons—Leon had counted hundreds of their lifeless forms, scattered as if forgotten by history itself...
He hadn’t gone much farther before a flicker of horror finally broke through Leon’s numb mask. Even numbness has its limits, apparently.
Beside the Stellar Path, a colossal corpse—thousands of meters tall—drifted in silent majesty, like a monument to forgotten gods.
Its body was overgrown with lush, water-beaded plants, and nestled among the greenery were clusters of lurid, blood-red flowers—an unsettling beauty in the midst of decay.
The creature had the body of a deer, six legs, and a humanoid torso—antlers jutting from its head like ancient, withered branches.
It resembled a centaur, but with two extra legs and skin of vivid green, marked by dense, labyrinthine patterns—nature’s own cryptic script.
Leon stared, mind buzzing in a haze of disbelief. Some part of him wondered if he’d ever feel normal again.
A god-demon!
A god-demon's corpse!
If there was any god-demon Leon knew best—their features, their power—it was the Lord of Nature!
When I first crossed into the apocalypse, beyond Heather City was nothing but endless desert. There wasn't a single trace of green anywhere—the only thing remotely edible were those disgusting sandworms.
Back then, I overheard people wishing the Lord of Nature were still alive. The Lord of Nature was the Shepherd of Forests, and all Treefolk were his subjects. Even in the Elder Age, many elves were his subordinate races.
The Lord of Nature was one of the rare god-demons who actually loved peace. His power was tied to plants—he could turn deserts into oases, conjure endless greenery.
When I first arrived in the apocalypse, I yearned for the Lord of Nature's power—at least then I could eat fruit, maybe even chew bark and leaves instead of those revolting sandworms.
So the first thing I did was scour the abandoned library in Heather City for everything about the Lord of Nature.
I knew the Lord of Nature's appearance, his powers, even the patterns on his skin—clear as day.
Legend had it the Lord of Nature perished in the calamity at the end of the Elder Age, but no one ever found his corpse—there was never any record. Yet here it was!