Journey through the forest of eldoria

 Note : This is a sequel to the 'The story of a devil ' so go and check that out first and if you already read that 'Welcome!!!'

The Demon Progenies' Retreat into the Forest of Eldoria :

The battlefield was lost. Kaiden had fallen.

In a desperate maneuver, he had teleported his five Devil Progenies—Kael, Verena, Draven, Lyra, and Malrik—along with the remnants of their shattered army to the nearest location where they would be beyond the reach of Velmoria’s mages. When the blinding light of teleportation faded, they found themselves deep within the Forest of Eldoria, the vast and enigmatic domain of the elves.

Wounded and exhausted, they were not in immediate danger from human forces but faced an equally deadly threat—the mana creatures that roamed the ancient forest. Beasts infused with raw magical energy lurked in the shadows, and in their current state, even the powerful progenies would struggle to fend them off.

A Fractured Council

Kael, ever the strategist, was the first to break the tense silence. "Our first priority should be to find shelter and recover," he suggested, his voice calm yet firm.

Verena, restless and seething, snapped back. "We don’t have that luxury! While we sit here licking our wounds, our home is under siege!"

Draven exhaled sharply, arms crossed. "And what do you propose? We’re in no condition to face the heroes, the holy knights, or the legions of Velmoria. Even if we tried to return, we wouldn’t make it in time."

Verena’s hands balled into fists. She could still feel the fire in her veins, the power thrumming beneath her skin. I can still fight. I can still do something.

"So we just wait here like cowards?" 

Lyra, the voice of reason, placed a hand on Verena’s shoulder. "Calm down. We understand how you feel, but we need to be realistic. Kael is right—without our strength, we are as good as dead."

Verena scoffed. "I’ve already recovered."

Kael sighed, rubbing his temple. "Not everyone has abilities like yours, Verena. Think about the soldiers who came with us. They’re in worse shape than we are."

Beneath her anger, there was something else. A weight. A promise.

She could still remember Kaiden’s voice, steady and unshakable. "You’re the strongest of them all, Verena. That means you have to protect them."

The memory cut deep. How could she protect them by doing nothing? How could she just sit here while Kaiden—her mentor, her leader—was gone?

Her nails dug into her palms. She wanted to argue, to scream, to do something. But then her eyes flickered to Lyra, to Kael, to the others—wounded, exhausted, barely holding themselves together.

Damn it.

She exhaled sharply, forcing her rage down. Kaiden wouldn’t want me to throw my life away. He’d want me to be smart. To keep them alive.

"Fine," she muttered, crossing her arms. "I guess we don’t have much choice."

Seeking Refuge

They scouted the area and soon found a cave nestled among the thick, ancient trees. It would provide some cover for the night.

Verena took it upon herself to hunt, vanishing into the dense foliage. Kael and Lyra focused on tending to the wounded, using what little magic they had left to stabilize their forces. Meanwhile, Malrik and Draven ventured into the shadows to scout their surroundings.

By evening, they regrouped.

Malrik, his face grim, delivered his report. "The entire area is covered in forest. And worse… we’re deep inside the Forest of Eldoria. I tried to locate the capital, but it’s well hidden. The elves have concealed it with ancient magic."

Kael's expression darkened. "The elves have been our enemies for centuries. We don’t have time to waste. Once the sun rises, we move."

The plan was set. They would rest, recover, and leave at dawn.

Ambush in the Dead of Night

The night was still, save for the whispers of wind through the leaves. But then—an attack.

The assault came without warning. Arrows rained from the trees, precise and deadly. The soldiers, still weak from battle, fell into hidden traps before they could react.

The five Devil Progenies, though wounded, managed to evade capture—at first. But their enemies were relentless, moving like shadows through the trees. The elves were one with the forest, their attacks swift, their coordination seamless.

The battle raged for hours, but fatigue crept in. Blow after blow, they lost ground. Defeat was inevitable.

One by one, they were subdued.

The General of the Elven Army

As the dust settled, a figure emerged from the shadows—tall, regal, and exuding an air of quiet authority. His golden armor shimmered faintly under the moonlight, his sharp eyes reflecting wisdom and experience.

He studied them, his expression unreadable. Then, with a smirk, he spoke.

"Well, well… you fought bravely, but you lack experience."

The Progenies recognized him instantly.

Aerion.

The Chief General of Eldoria’s army.

To be continued....

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