I kept most of my attention on my surroundings, and only a portion was still focused on the growth of the small sapling, which slowed even more after the latest adjustment, but I could see many changes in its nature, enough to justify that.
I sensed it carefully, ready to intervene in case of a weak undead response — and evacuate in case that scary lich that repaired the dimensional wall arrived. I was still confident in myself in a desperate fight, but I had no intention of putting myself to it unless absolutely necessary.
My latest experience with that corrupted angel was a good way to remind me just how many trump cards an enemy could reveal during a fight.
I focused on my other aim, slowly digging a tunnel deep underground, one that went almost a mile, opening to a naturally concealed pit — which I reinforced further with several more wards. And, on the way back, I had carefully covered the tunnel with wards as well, split between concealment, and explosive wards that were filled with the purest light mana I could convert through my fake light node.
A nice present in case the undead discovered me.
It took more than an hour, and when I returned, the little sapling had grown noticeably — from one inch to two — but its growth had stopped after finishing all the mana that was inside its protective shell.
Which was not too surprising. What surprised me was that there was a sense of taint in its leaves, the tip of one of them already blackened.
“Is there something wrong with my ward?” I asked myself even as I started examining the protective shell I had established to protect the little sapling from the necrotic energy. I was extremely focused, and not just because I was worried about the fate of the sapling, which was something between bait and an idle experiment.
I was more interested in why my ward failed. It might be my failing, or there might be something critical I was yet to discover about how mana worked in lands outside the purview of the system.
Either case, it had some great implications for the defensive quality of my temporary residence and my future plans.
However, even after sinking a great deal of time, I was yet to discover the source of the leak. And, before I could go deeper, I noticed a movement at a distance, coming from an upstream direction.
Another band of undead, though smaller than the first party that was sieging the elves earlier. The limited number of zombies that were brought along suggested that they were just reinforcements rather than ones that were expected to restart the siege — suggesting the undead were yet to discover my little intervention.
It was clear that the party was not there to understand the unexpected defeat either, as a horde of zombies — even a small one — was hardly something that could be kept hidden.
Among them, I could see two necromancers herding the rest. I cast two spells. First, an illusion, one that showed a large tree in place my little sapling, growing brightly. The horde to a stop after noticing its presence, and I used my second spell then.
A wave of light mana, infused with some proto-HP, enveloped most of the horde, taking them down in a single hit.
A hit that didn’t target one of the two necromancers, who was busy retreating.
Then, I flooded its structure with a mixture of pure mana and proto-HP, both its roots and its leaves drinking the mana thirstily, just like a little lamb that discovered a cold spring in the middle of the summer.
Curious enough to watch its growth with my eyes, I climbed out of my cave, confident in my detection capabilities to catch any interloper before they could notice my presence.
I was glad that I did so, because its growth was a phenomenal experience, one of the greatest shows I had enjoyed. The little sapling continued growing at a shocking speed. First, two feet, then three. Soon, it was as tall as me, with its branches getting larger and larger, its emerald leaves thick enough to bend them.
There was only one problem. When it reached double my height, its growth slowed down significantly. It didn’t take long for me to catch the responsible. Its mana roots were continuously expanding no matter how much I worked to prune them, trying to replicate the size of the physical roots.
“Such a needy little tree,” I muttered as I decided to apply another solution, and encased its roots with wards, hoping that it would be enough.
It turned into a little disaster. Aether particles were destructive enough on their own, especially against wards I had deliberately designed as soft. Still, I was confident that I could come up with a solution if I worked enough.
But, my little project decided to react aggressively to the threat of being confined like that, lacking any advanced thought and limited to basic reflexes, and started attacking the ward from the inside.
Its mana roots weren’t the most excellent tool to do so, but the internal structure of the wards was defenseless as well, easily destroyed. Creating a bigger ward was out as well due to the nature of the Aether dimension, making the distance a confusing attribute.
“You win, you annoying plant,” I decided, surrendering my attempts to keep its mana roots short, instead of focusing on its growth.
It wasn’t like I was short of mana.
I continued to pump it full of easily digestible mana, its limited Spark working wonders to digest it, while my proto-HP worked hard to keep it healthy. Its height reached the mark of twenty feet, when its growth slowed down once more.
This time, the reason was more obvious. A flare of nature-life mana radiated out of the tree, and suddenly, the dead ground around it showed signs of life, a thin layer of grass appearing to cover the gray earth, pushing for life.
It was a fascinating view, one that I enjoyed seeing as I continued to pump mana, ready to get the attention of the undead as they sent more of their forces, the existence of the tree an excellent culprit to keep me hidden.
Unfortunately, this time, the next ward that triggered came from the opposite direction, downstream.
Elves were coming.
[Level: 36 Experience: 631374 / 666000]