A/N: Ah, nothing quite like the smell of spilt blood in the morning, right?

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Genocide. There’s no other way to describe it. Not something that Mikael would ever normally partake in, and not something he would ever normally condone either. But in these circumstances… well, it’s not like they really have a choice.

It starts with the elves who witnessed their High Executor’s death attacking him, Bula, and Avina. At first, all he can do is raise a massive teal shield to block those deadly arrows from hitting them. If it were just the three of them against hundreds of archers, then he’s not sure he could have held off the onslaught forever.

But it’s not just the three of them. As Syl, God of the Forest, lets out another titanic, earth-shaking roar, the sound of dozens if not hundreds of massive paws strikes against the ground as the Children of Syl who had pulled back at their progenitor’s approach come bounding forward again.

Screams fill the air and soon after the deluge of arrows being thrown at Mikael, Avina, and Bula stops. From there, they’re able to take stock… and take part in the initial battle. Needless to say, he didn’t think they would be fighting on the side of the monstrous-looking creatures AGAINST the elves, but that’s where they wound up all the same.

Bula led the charge and Mikael found himself and Avina swept along in the half-orc warrior’s wake. It wasn’t like he was going to leave her to go it alone. But it was equally obvious that her need for vengeance wasn’t satisfied with just High Executor Krislamin’s death. No, in the end… Bula was out for blood. And so were Syl and his children.

Mikael kept his own blade to that of actual enemy combatants, at least. Fortunately, most of the remaining Sylvian Elves WERE combatants. The final remnants of their entire race were all fighters in the end… and any who stood before Mikael died, their power absorbed into the Soul Engine as he and Avina followed Bula’s path of destruction and death.

Eventually though, there was a point when even Bula began to slow. Mikael can’t say quite when that happens. Around the four hundredth elf dead specifically at the end of her axe? The five hundredth? He doesn’t know… nor does he particularly care. Bula will never face judgment from him for the things she’s done today. Not with everything they now know.

Still, the last elven city is massive, covering a multitude of Sylian Trees. Eventually, the three of them stop and can only watch as the Children of Syl wash over the city, tearing it and its inhabitants to shreds. Elves die by the thousands, possibly the tens of thousands… and they don’t lift a finger to help.

How can they? Are they supposed to speak up in the defense of a bunch of slavers? Maybe not every Sylian Elf knew what the High Priestess’ true purpose was. But it didn’t change the fact that their entire society was built on chaining a god and his children and forcing them to do his bidding.

Not every elf dies. The more Mikael absorbs, the more his Soul Sense grows in distance. As such, he sees a smattering of tiny soul signatures running, fleeing out of the Sylian Woods. Some are even fast enough, or at least far enough ahead that the Children of Syl don’t run them down. You don’t have to be faster than the predator. You just have to be faster than the other prey.

Mikael winces at that morbid thought but can’t really come up with a way to deny the truth of it. There will be survivors. Maybe even numbering in the hundreds. But one thing was certain all the same. By the day’s end, the last Elven City has fallen. As the sun begins to set, ‘The People’… are officially no more. The great civilization, built on the back of an enslaved god, has been swept from the Sylian Woods completely and totally.

When said god comes up to them in the aftermath, he approaches with slow ponderous steps that don’t shake the ground quite so hard as his first entrance but nevertheless announce his arrival. Standing on a platform near the top of one of the Sylian Trees, the three of them find themselves face to eyeball with the God of the Forest.

<Thank you for your assistance.>

Mikael isn’t really sure what to expect from a literal god, but gratitude isn’t it. And yet, Syl continues on, his voice booming through their minds.

<Your mother, may she rest peacefully, is also someone I will remember fondly. Without her, I would still be in chains. She gave her life to free me.>

Mikael glances to Bula just in time to see the half-orc blink, seemingly not sure what to think about that. She’d just executed Daylor Krislamin and slaughtered her way through hundreds of elven warriors out of rage felt on behalf of a woman she’d never met. But even if Bula and Renna Wysalynn had never gotten the chance to know each other, she was still the half-orc’s mother. There was a connection there, even if it was one born solely of wearing the woman’s clothing and sleeping in her old room for three days.

“… I am glad you were freed. But I do not know this woman as a mother. I knew no mother at all.”

As blunt as ever. Fortunately, Syl seems to be a surprisingly understanding god. For a moment, the gargantuan creature’s massive eye drifts shut. When it opens again, he gives the slightest of nods, his crown of spines and horns scraping against the canopy overhead and sending leaves and branches falling down to the ground beneath him.

<Hm. That is fair, all things considered. However, you should know that it was not her choice. You were never a source of hatred for her… and you only became a source of despair when you were taken from her in the dead of night by the last High Executor.>

Bula stiffens up at that revelation, her eyes narrowing.

“What?”

<Your mother loved you, little one. For the few short weeks she was allowed to have you after your birth, she wanted nothing more than to raise you as her own. It was the Council of Executors that ended this fantasy. It was they who decided you were a blemish on the honor of their vaunted People and needed to be tossed away before you tainted their perfect civilization with your mere presence.>

Well, shit. Mikael takes a step forward and places a hand on Bula’s shoulder at that. He can tell how much that knowledge rocks the half-orc to her core. She’d likely always assumed her mother wanted nothing to do with her. Even if it was the Council’s choice, surely Renna would have been happy to give her up considering her origins and how she’d been conceived in the first place. But now Bula was finding out that that was false. That her mother… had wanted her after all. That she’d been TAKEN from the other woman against her will.

Mikael feels a shift and blinks, looking past Bula to see that Avina has posted up on the half-orc’s other side and is hugging her arm in a silent show of support as well. For a long moment, Bula remains frozen in place… finally though, she looks to both of them, acknowledging their presence for a moment before turning her attention back to Syl.

“How… how did she die? Truly?”

<Hm. She did in fact take her own life, as was said. And she did so after the Council ordered her to give birth to another High Priestess Candidate, no matter how it harmed her to do so. However… this, in the end, was the culmination of a plan many years in the making. After they took you from her, your mother had no one to turn to. No one… save for me.>

Ah. Right. Isolated and ostracized from her own people, a jailor had turned to her prisoner. Interesting.

<It is much as was said. For many centuries I was filled with nothing but hatred and rage for The People and their High Priestesses. It was my fondest dream to kill them all, to slaughter them wholesale and destroy their civilization entirely. A dream that has now been realized. However… your mother was the first to be different. The first to look past the hatred and rage… the first to offer up her own sorrow, grief, and anger in return.>

Mikael could easily imagine it. Or maybe… maybe he was seeing something like a memory. Because it wasn’t just words that the God of the Forest was pushing into their minds. It was memories. Visions of the past, of an elven woman that could only have been Bula’s mother kneeling in the center of the ritual circle, sobbing as she communed with an enslaved god.

<We became kindred spirits, she and I. Admittedly, it was not the first time over the centuries that one of my jailors reached out to me with an open hand instead of a closed fist. But it was the first time I actually quelled my rage long enough to listen to her sorrow. And together, we decided that it was time to bring this era to an end. Your mother swore to me she would never bear another child, little one. She swore she would see me free. And so we worked together, tirelessly for years, to try and unbind me. Unshackle me. Unchain me.>

The visions of Syl and Renna working together fly through their minds. Bula is shaking now, Mikael realizes. He squeezes down on her shoulder as hard as he dares and feels her lean into him, even as Avina leans into her.

<We made much progress before the end. But the Council forced our hand. Renna refused to bring another High Priestess into this world. She refused to let them continue on as they were. If we’d had a little longer perhaps we could have cast off my chains together. But we’d run out of time and so she sacrificed herself and in doing so shattered my bondage so thoroughly and utterly that it could not be restored. Not even by her half-orc daughter called to return in a fit of desperation.>

Well damn. So Daylor’s plan was never going to work. Mikael wasn’t sure how to feel about that. Better? Worse? In the end, it didn’t matter. The elven man was still dead… and good riddance too.

As Bula wrestles with her emotions, still shaking with tears streaming down her face… Syl’s focus shifts. They’re all too close together for it to be said that his gaze turns away from Bula towards Mikael and Avina. And yet, his attention definitely switches to the two of them.

<Hm. It has been a long time since I last met a True Hero. A thousand years, I do believe. Indeed, it’s been at least that long since the Last Hero sealed this world from the Calamities. Ah, but that is not why you’re here, is it?>

Well shit, hold on a second, that was… but no, Syl has already moved on.

<Through my connection to the one you call Bula; I have already seen your purpose here. You came to the Sylian Woods in hopes of finding an army, did you not?>

Well, that was a little surprising. But also… yes they had. Glancing at Avina, Mikael swallows for a moment before stepping forward away from her and Bula. Then, he gives the gargantuan God of the Forest a careful nod.

“… That’s right. Though if we’d known what the Sylian Elves were doing to you and your children… I promise you, we would never have supported them, not even for the promise of an army.”

<Mm. I believe you, Hero. And yet, the defeat of my slavers does little to solve your problems. In return for your assistance and in recognition of the bond that Renna and I shared… I will help you.>

Mikael’s eyes widen at that. The thought of Syl himself charging out of the Sylian Woods and rampaging through Foss Sangrey’s army to grab hold of the Necromancer and tear him limb from limb flashes through Mikael’s mind. Of course… he can’t let his expectations get ahead of him. Clearing his throat, he gives another slow, careful nod.

“We would… appreciate any help that you wish to offer us, God of the Forest.”

<Unfortunately, I myself cannot leave the forest. The Sylian Woods, as you call them, are my domain and I am tied to that domain by pacts I made long ago.>

That gets Mikael to shoot a glance at Avina. Pacts… was there some truth to the legends after all? Maybe things had gotten twisted over time and instead of elves and humans making pacts, it was Syl and whoever this Last Hero was? Either way, now was unfortunately not the time to be asking for a history lesson. Not when it sounded like they were on the verge of getting what they’d come to the Sylian Woods for after all… despite the genocide they’d just helped complete.

<However, my Children bare mere fractions of my power and are not diminished by leaving the Sylian Woods. Normally I hold them at bay as best as possible… but an exception can be made this time. So long as Renna’s daughter lives, my Children will follow you into battle. Keep her safe and they will wage war against your enemies until the very last is defeated.>

Well now. That was… a hell of an offer and an ultimatum wrapped up in one. On the one hand, however many Children of Syl the God of the Forest was offering would be a great boon against Foss Sangrey and his army of the dead. But on the other hand, it sounded like if Bula died at any point, they’d have an even greater apocalypse on their hands as a bunch of monsters the size of houses went on a rampage across Zuveria and Ocreatha.

… At the same time, it doesn’t really sound like a choice. Syl isn’t really offering his Children up, he’s telling Mikael what’s going to happen. The Children of Syl will follow them out of the Sylian Woods and into battle… so long as Bula lives.

Yeah, that’s more the kind of blunt, one-sided decision-making Mikael expects from a God. Especially one that’s also a massive fuck-off monster the size of Godzilla. Looking back at Avina and Bula, he’s unsurprised to see the determination and resolve in their faces. At the end of the day, they’re both more than ready to take Syl up on his ‘offer’ and finally take the fight to Foss.

Chuckling softly, Mikael rubs a hand through the back of his head before giving Syl a proper bow at the waist.

“… Thank you for this generous gift.”

<Mm. I will imbue them with as much of my power as they can possibly carry so they can survive off of your barren lands for a time. But I would send them home once they have served their purpose. Otherwise, they are likely to ravage your lands solely for purposes of sustenance before long.>

Right. Great. Good to know.

-x-X-x-

A/N: Next time... back to Zuveria, albeit with a small intermission chapter before we actually get back to the action. 

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