Age of Adepts

Fandral was the oldest, most senior, and most powerful high-grade druid of the Emerald Dream.

Of course, he was also an undisputed Fourth Grade Great Druid.

There were only two Fourth Grade Great Druids among all the druids of the elven kingdom. One was Fandral, the great elder of the elder's council. The other was Dizenn, also a Great Druid of high acclaim and with many admirers and followers.

In comparison, the druid god messenger blessed by Yurga himself, strangely enough, only had the power of a Third Grade. The god messenger wasn't the strongest individual among the druids.

On the one hand, this had to do with the fact that it wasn't easy to find and cultivate a god messenger that was compatible with a god's origin power. On the other, it was also due to the loose, free, and natural way of doing things that the druids believed in.

If it were the human pantheon, they would most definitely pave the path for their god messengers and have them complete their journey and training at the fastest speed. This way, they would reach the peak of their lives as soon as possible and become Fourth Grade powerhouses.

That would allow them to be of much more help to the gods.

However, the druids believed in the way of nature. They didn't like to hasten growth by pulling things by their stalks. They preferred to slowly grind and learn their own nature's way through the trivialities of everyday life and their time spent in nature. The previous druid god messenger died of natural causes four hundred years ago, and his soul had returned to the oak tree. The newly promoted druid favored by Yurga only then slowly rose to the level of a Third Grade.

It would probably take a minimum of another two to three hundred years of experience before he could turn into a Fourth Grade Great Druid.

"Fandral, I wish to see Lord Yurga!" Even though she was already a true god, the Moonlight Goddess was still as respectful as an ordinary elven girl looking for guidance before Yurga's servant.

"My greatest apologies, Lady Meve!" Fandral shook his head apologetically, "Lord Yurga has fallen into a deep sleep. He is unlikely to respond to any calls from the outside world within the next three to four hundred years."

It was a massive side-effect left behind by Yurga's path to godhood.

In truth, Yurga, the Heart of the Forest was a divine creation formed by the life force of the boundless Fantasy Forest and the soul of that legendary Great Druid. Even though the faith of the druids sustained him, most of his faith still came from the vast Fantasy Forest.

If Yurga behaved too actively and moved around too frequently, he would exhaust the life force and liveliness of Fantasy Forest itself. If he chose to go into a deep sleep, then he could reduce his massive god-kingdom's demand and the toll upon the great forest. It was beneficial to the development and strengthening of the Fantasy Forest.

Thus, Yurga developed this habit of occasionally hiding somewhere in the Fantasy Forest and falling into a deep, deep sleep. In this state, he would no longer respond to the prayers and wishes of his druid followers as well as all other natural creatures.

As such, this favored druid indirectly became the most tragic god messenger.

Not only were they often incapable of finding their own god, most of the wishes and prayers they sent out would also vanish like a stone sinking to the bottom of the ocean. There would be no reply at all. However, fortunately, druids were known as the Fantasy Forests' children of nature. They could passively receive nourishment of the soul and replenishment of their magic from the woods itself.

Moreover, the Fantasy Forest itself seemed to be able to respond to the divine power needs of the druid god messenger. While the god messenger couldn't squander their power like the other god messengers, the forest seemed to respond to every call for power. The effectiveness and might of the divine power provided by the forest were also very highly-ranked, even among all god messengers.

Even the Moonlight Goddess couldn't help but betray a weak and bitter smile upon hearing that the Heart of the Forest had fallen into his habitual slumber.

Just as the Moonlight Goddess expected herself to return empty-handed, the seemingly dull Great Druid Fandral replied with a smile, "Lady Meve, there is no need to be worried! Lord Yurga might be asleep, but he gave a direct order before his slumber. We, of the Druid Conclave, are to assist you with all our power. If you have any trouble, the Druid Conclave will be willing to share that burden!"

"Really?" At this moment, even the Moonlight Goddess was exceptionally overjoyed.

Nearly forty to fifty percent of druids within the kingdom chose to join the elven army. They made up the mainstay of the casters in the various elite elven armies. Apart from these druids, another ten to twenty percent of druids chose to roam and wander freely across the continent. They led the lives of hermits and rarely participated in worldly matters. As for the remaining thirty to forty percent of druids, they tightly gathered around the druid elder's council. They formed the Druid Conclave, an odd religious armed force.

And who would have known? These druids that were willing to join the Druid Conclave were all experts in some of their specific specializations; often the cream of the crop. Even the elven kingdom had to occasionally invite masters from the Druid Conclave to serve as instructors for the druids in the army.

That was why the Druid Conclave of the Emerald Dream was packed full of talented individuals and why it was held in such esteem across Garan.

After obtaining the affirmation of the Great Druid, the Moonlight Goddess Meve's incarnation became increasingly excited. She immediately dragged Fandral to a side to discuss the matter of exterminating that group of evil adepts.

Soon, a conclave of druids that numbered as many as two hundred men joined the side of the Moonlight Temple. They started to work in cooperation with the Goddess' believers to look all over for traces of that group of evil witches.

…………

At this moment, the ones responsible for all the evil and their badly damaged flying ship had already reached their isolated island, having dragged its wrecked hull all the way across the ocean.

This place had also just experienced a war and was undergoing the lengthy and challenging process of recovery.

When Greem brought the witches off of the flying ship, the first thing they saw was a bloody battlefield, ravaged and littered with corpses. The oddly-shaped bodies of the seafolk could be seen everywhere between the jagged black rocks.

Indeed, they were the corpses of seafolk warriors!

Disgusting wrinkled skin and fine scales grew all over the bodies of these dead seafolk warriors. The surfaces of their bodies were also covered in a layer of slippery slime.

They had long, narrow heads and humanoid bodies, but the ends of their four limbs, as well as much of their bodies, were still covered in fish scales. The legs beneath their torsos also seemed to have evolved from some sort of fins. Their legs were limp and soft, without any of the strength and agility of actual land creatures. However, they still managed to prop up their ugly and disgusting bodies.

Their appearance shared some similarities with the swamp murlocs that Greem had seen in Lance. However, the murlocs had evolved to be a lot more like humans, while these sea warriors still very clearly carried signs of sea creatures upon their bodies.

Greem flipped over the bodies of a few seafolk warriors and discovered that most of them had died to metal bullets that had pierced their bodies. The bodies of the seafolk were extraordinarily flexible and were protected by the defensive liquid slime. These were the prerequisites that allowed them to take to land.

Correspondingly, their bodies were excessively soft, and the scales protecting their bodies were overly thin. There was no way they could resist attacks from hard weapons. Ignoring the metal bullets of the magical machines with all the kinetic power behind them, even some small rocks thrown their way could deal decent physical damage to their bodies.

Greem shook his head and sighed as he regularly investigated the internal structures of the seafolk bodies with the scanning and x-ray vision of the Chip.

These seafolk were qualified to be warriors with such bodily conditions?

Their legs were limp, weak, and couldn't run fast. They weren't equipped with any tough armor or weapons. Greem only saw some crude spears made of sharpened coral at the sides of the dead seafolk warriors. Such seafolk warriors could probably only obtain victory through numbers!

As expected, when Greem stood up and took a look at the seas around the island, he saw plenty of floating corpses and wild sea creatures swimming about to devour the rotting bodies.

It seemed as if the creatures had been shocked by the massive metallic structure of the flying ship. The chirping and calling from the seas had suddenly stopped. Greem sharp eyes even saw the silhouettes of many seafolk warriors secretly sneaking back to deeper waters.

For the humans, the skies were a mysterious place that they could not hope to reach. For the Oceanic Empire and the sea creatures, the land was the 'sky' that they could not hope to reach! As for the true sky? It was just like the space beyond the realm. It was a terrifying domain that they didn't even dare to think of.

The sea nobles or casters might have some tiny trace of greed or desire for land. However, most intelligent sea lifeforms didn't dare have a shred of malicious thought toward the sky! They only had respect for it.

Thus, there was nothing other than fear and respect that the sea creatures felt for a massive metal mountain that could freely traverse the skies.

Greem had arranged another magical machine warrior to be stationed upon the island- the Goblin Bomberman. It was also in charge of a small squad of magical machines.

Greem immediately listened to a more comprehensive situation report from the Goblin Bomberman upon returning to the island.

After the in-depth description from the Goblin Bomberman, Greem finally found out that the island had been attacked over a dozen times by the seafolk army in the two dozen days they had been away. Their most massive scale assault had even possessed as many as twenty First Grade seafolk powerhouses joining them.

Of course, these odd yet grotesque seafolk powerhouses were all defeated singlehandedly by the Goblin Bomberman, who had the power of a pseudo-Second Grade. After killing five seafolk powerhouses (including two Second Grades), the remaining seafolk had immediately dispersed and fled. They no longer dared to fight with the Goblin Bomberman on land.

When the Goblin Bomberman reported to Greem, it also emphasized its evaluation of these seafolk powerhouses. There was only one word it had for them- weak.

Despite accompanying Greem across two to three planes, the newly promoted Goblin Bomberman might have the fundamental strength of Second Grade, but it was still very much lacking in the soft skills that fully qualified it as a Second Grade. In its eyes though, these Second Grade powerhouses of Faen couldn't even compare to the First Grade elite adepts of the World of Adepts in terms of individual might.

The natural frailty of the seafolk turned them into rotten meat that could be easily thrown about and ravaged when they were faced with the terrifying murder machine that was the Goblin Bomberman. Their rusted metal spears and knives shattered beneath the Bomberman's unbreakable metal body. Their weak and powerless water arrows burst into drops of water on the chest of the Bomberman.

A single Goblin Bomberman had utterly defeated the two dozen seafolk powerhouses. In the end, they had no choice but to turn tail and run after suffering such tremendous losses!