I gred down at the grass, my muscles rexed yet ready to flex at any moment. A rumbling growl escaped my throat. Ohat I couldn't quite tain, though I didn't try to. The cttering of my rudimentary biological armor posed of my bones and pnts did not help either.

  It was a natural rea to what was happening below: demoniergies were swirling. I wasn't just looking at the grass. I didn't o see through solid matter to know what was going on.

  The magical ward couldn't hide it all. It was a good one, but my senses were just better. It would have worked three years ago, but not anymore, for the most part. If I noticed a whiff of mana–Fel all in particur–in dissoh the flow of nature, it raised all kinds of red fgs and alerts in my mind.

  My cw dug into the soft soil, surrounding roots ected to the vegetation on my body, and the ground trembled. I ahe trees to do a simple task: colpse the cavity below me with their roots. I was meticulous, ensuring the cave-in was as close to instantaneous as possible without causing too much surface damage.

  Two dozen satyrs' life forces dimmed at that moment from fmes to flickering embers as if doused by heavy rain. All were crushed under metris of stones and dirt—quick deaths, mercy they didn't deserve. But it was effit and safe for me, and I did so because there wasn't anyone needing rescue… anymore.

  However, something escaped—a creature full of chaotiergies, standing right before me after telep himself above.

  He was a paratively short creature to me with hooved feet. He had a muscur, stily cd body of scarlet red skin with a tail. Five tentacles with rings mimig a beard dangled from his , and his bald head had a ft, bony, fan-shaped crest jutting backward. His face sported burning, sickly greearing straight at me with open fusion.

  An eredar, I reized, one of those evil red draenei. I wasn't surprised; everything living had its distinctive life force, its own tuwisted or not.

  This variety of demons was rare to see, but it wasn't my first iion with them, and as of te, they became more on. Far too on. I have seehan five–well, six now–in total, and almost all of them were from this month.

  It was why I was sure he didn't die; his species implied immense magical proficy. I'm surprised he didn't react earlier, though. It wasn't a tiny amount of mana I used—definitely not somethiely uable. Arrogance, I supposed, was the ao that question.

  Regardless, the moment he popped, roots immediately burst from the ground and tangled his hooved feet as I rushed at him, using my entire mass to gain even more momentum, and a loud bellow roared out of my lungs like thunder as I did so.

  His fused face torted to unbridled rage as he extended his right hand, his palm glowing the hreen of Fel, preparing a spell.

  "F-!"

  Then, my downward, heavily–signifitly more thaher–armored paw swipe smmed from above his head and colrbohere was a fsh of blue, a flickering thin magic bubble with numerous cracks, but it colpsed immediately at my strike. His eyes widened ically, but why his words were cut short was from something else, literally aaphorically.

  He tried to telepain as my cw reached him, but he clearly failed. And the moment of the impay paw with his squishy body was magnifit, as was his expression.

  He showed fusion as he snapped like a twig. My cws cut through his head and torso like a hot khrough butter, and the force remaining turned him into a gory proje of fleshy ribbon that staihe grass and nearby trees with bone fragments, purple brain matter, bck viscera, and fluorest green blood.

  I spat on the bloody smear of the once demon. Shaking the bits and pieces of him that stuy armored paw as if I had just squashed a bug, I sighed.

  It was always good to have those demons' death on my mind. It was therapeutic if only it didn't e with the fact they were there in the first pce.

  Then I s a pair of legs further away, ergo the failed teleportation, as the legs weren't in root locked anymore. My nose and lips kled, showing my fangs at the acrid sulfuric smell. It was stig to my fur... urg. It would be a pain to groom.

  And like that, a potentially fierce battle ended. It was anticlimactid unsatisfactory–even to me–but I couldn't risk it. He was among the stro warlocks I ever saw, far weaker than me from his presence–I very much doubted he hid his strength–but that would be falcious reasoning. Raw mana wasn't everything. It was a good indicator and a part of a whole.

  I didn't have an HP bar; one bad hit, and I'm dead. I didn't want to test my luck with a warlock who probably was a master in multiple forms of magic.

  Then I began the process that was now almost instinctual of ing the demonic taint with Groot as my grumpy assistant. I started a lengthy, if powerful, taken from one of the rituals the Bear of Wisdom had taught me.

  My mind wandered as I worked. I wasn't happy. All satyrs dying showed two optioher they sucked, or they were exhausted from further summonings—or both.

  I leaoward the tter. The former was the least likely due to the Fel's density. Even then, it wasn't enough to make the ball of ay in my stomach grow, it would piss me off, and it did, but it wasn't all. No, it was different, far worse.

  "The wait is nearing its end." I breathed out, a tremor in my voice making it sound wrong even with how resonant and growly it was.

  It was the time or close enough not to matter. It felt like I was repeatedly myself, as it wasn't the only time I said this as of te.

  Fifteen years was how much time passed since my rebirth. Fifteen years as a furbolg in this insane universe, which I would like to believe I didn't waste by zing around, but I would lie if I said I was remotely as effit as I could have been.

  I didn't have the mentality to act like a robot stantly seeking improvement and perfe. If I had… I would have run away from my new family and my new life and never looked back. But I wasn't a mae.

  Those were pleasant times that, despite my efforts, got harder and harder to get. Still, I tried. I didn't want them to bee faded memories like my human ones.

  Regardless, time passed, time I used to work–time I didn't waste even if I didn't use it ideally–and it led to the present situation.

  Virtually every sapient species in Northern Kalimdor was indiscriminately purging the closest tie to the Burning Legion in this earthly realm, the satyrs. It had begun with Ursol inf arius and tio this day.

  Yet, less than two weeks ago, those despoilers suddenly ged their modus operandi by showing self-preservation instincts or a ck thereof. It was abnormal, and it tinued esg.

  There weren't many of the failed demo after the general efforts to murder them all, and they never were that numerous, to begin with. Their only method of reprodu was turning night elves into more satyrs, voluntarily or not.

  It got dark very fast from here: brainwashing, elves, elven cubs targeted, kidnapped, or born from kidnapped parents and transformed uheir vile care.

  The point was—they had no footing. They couldn't fight back the night elves alone; less be said of the rest of the wild.

  Outliers sisting of ambushing non-fighters, setting traps, and corrupting the wildlife were the best they could do if they didn't want to get massacred. The usual, might I say, just pushed to a new level from the terror immi annihition gave.

  They could only flee and hide like the cockroaches they were, insulting as the parison was for the animals iiohey didn't. They stubbornly stayed here, and with their sudden inexplicable rise in fidehat was how I could ascertain the years of preparation were ending.

  It might be something else, but that was my delusional hope speaking.

  The Burning Legion was here or close enough. It was a matter of months at the most before everythi down to shit.

  Aors only knew how absolutely terrified I was.

  Archimonde or Kil'jaeden was ing. In the end, it made no difference since I knew fuck all about either. Well, besides that, one was red with wings and the other purple, and they were Sargeras' favorite boy toys and were equal to Aspects at best or at worst parable to Old Gods, if not more.

  'We must begireat underground.' I thought there wasn't another possibility or it would be too te. It was a good thing I had been on my way to do just that anyway. I smelt it in the air, felt in the nd, for some time, the impending sense ness, of doom hanging after every breath.

  Half an hour ter, I was in the North of Ashe the base was the familiar yet always awe-inspiring sight of a massive bear head carved of wood jutting off the side of the of mountains where a few dozen furbolgs were hard at work.

  The majority was training. Three shamans guided and taught everyone who was not yet on point to sense and trol their mana, no matter how small or poor their talents were. It was an obligation.

  Why it was so was a simple matter really; we were tied to the Emerald Dream and in tuh our mana as it was tied to our body, mind, and soul, and we absorbed it stantly from our enviro. Alteration to our mana that was inpatible teo have violeions.

  It never roblem usually. People who would want to quer us–only before the Sundering–didn't blight the nd; that was asinine.

  It was why trolls in the past just didn't bother with us; we weren't uable, just not worth it. The threat from Ursol and Ursoing down to maul their Loa's asses if those became too involved helped.

  But when the wild and nature was fucked through magic, we were equally fucked if we didn't act fast. We wouldn't go rabid because a few trees were cut or because a random demon was nearby.

  It didn't work like this, but it was reason enough to be unfivably aggressive toward the threat in both sarios. Of course, when diplomacy proved worthless, it was a far too on occurrence.

  The hazardous factors o be potent, on a rge scale, and st.

  Why? It was an easy answer.

  We indiscriminately absorbed mana in our enviro; it was parable to breathing, but the problem was that mana–just like air–could be polluted.

  Shamans and ursa totemics had bigger 'lungs' as such, were far more resistant. In addition to the inbuilt resistance doing the same, some knew how to 'hold your breath,' ' your lungs,' 'filter,' and 'isote' the pollution like shamans.

  It was the same for Wild Gods; they had bigger 'lungs' and the above, which was why they were equally sensitive yet tradictorily more resistant than furbolgs.

  Only a minority of furbolgs mao get it all to an acceptable proficy, but that seldom was the only thing we had against that dreadful fate.

  The remaining furbolgs, aside from the warriors, teo a flora I had engineered. Outside it, there were only two, but only one was visible: easefallens, wild strawberries with bright yellow blooms that would whiten then wither at any amount of Fel in the air.

  It was my version of the ary in the i was a small thing pared to the one u first gnce, but it was the most important one and one I worked tirelessly on.

  The Goldilocks was its was a variety of mycorrhizae with a golden hair-like appearance if cobbled densely enough, thereby the name, and it was two references only I would get—the fairytale and the Goldilocks zone. I roud of that name.

  It tied itself to the root system of my pnts and did the regur thing regarding symbiosis for mycorrhizae, and it did something else, something much better.

  It absorbed Nature mana and its variant in the air–nothing dangerous, it didn't have the power to suck it out of someone–giving it to its pnt hosts, but the exg part came . The excess was cycled in its mycelium weing a short buffering field pushing away the dangerous magical energies for furbolgs.

  It wasn't remotely all-powerful and needed metris of it to have any impact with a lot of initial energy. However, when it got going, the vast majority of problems we faced could be ignored, and it strengthened our health and magic, among other bes.

  Still, the Goldilocks was going strong and would suffice even if it was far from its true potential.

  This mushroom was a key piey self-made ecosystem. A projeihat had existed for easily a decade, even though it had been a rough draft for most of that. It wasn't on point, worse than I would have liked, but better than my worst estimates.

  "I'm passing by. tinue yreat job." I said, nding and shifting back to normal, shattering the show of borderline worship before it rolled out of trol.

  They all nodded and visibly glowed with joy at my words, getting a dopamine shot from their smell. I waved them goodbye aered the tunnel ihroat of the wooden sculpture.

  It led to Timbermaw Hold. The rgest tration of furbolgs is in Kalimdor, a pce falsely assumed to be our capital by an unfortable number of schors. It was a false equivalency; the Timbermaw tribe was the rgest, but no one was their vassal. We didn't sider them above, either.

  Their territory en to every furbolg, yes, but that wasn't unique, primarily due to its empt. It was the crisscrossing of five tunnels, each with a giant bear head for entrance. Besides the one I walked in, the remaining four were respectively in Moongde, Winterspring, Azshara, and the st atop Mount Hyjal.

  Tuhat were ected yet distinct from the Barrow Deeps, far more than the average furbolg dug ohe bear head here was the mairance, and there were two more in stru, with the corresponding heads in Darkshore and not far from the roots of Mount Hyjal in Ashenvale.

  Well, they weren't to ect exclusively to Timbermaw Hold, as were the five older ones going through a renovation for a simir end goal. It was to lead the way to our survival of the ining war and beyond.

  Evidently, we won't be able to finish the tunnels before the war, but I had foreseen that much. Finishing them has always been an ideal best-case sario.

  Even with our shamans, miners, and thousands of kobolds with their giant moles w together, we 't dig several hundred kilometers of galleries that must abide by the Bear of Wisdom's design.

  It was a design of utmost importao avoid numerous plications for the life that was to thrive there, the ehing's structural iy, the flow of energies, etbsp;

  I didn't uand every intricacy, but I uood the value and didn't cut ers to finish early. I want something that would outlive me.

  The tunnels had been something we had only begun to focus on a few months ago anyway. It was impressive enough that we did this mu such a short amount of time. A third was already dohank Ursol for his help.

  But that wasn't what I did. I wasn't an architect. Well, mostly.

  I worked os, developed a magical–inplete–version of CRISPR for that in addition to selective breeding, and had the general idea and dire. But nearly everything else would have been impossible without my Wild God teacher.

  Onside the hold, I paused and focused. My unworded question was eagerly answered in the blink of an eye by the spirit of the aors ihe pd my greater skill made it redundant to use the Spirit Whistle—Ursol's gift.

  ~Chosen, Young Ferni and Old Tanrir are in the haven den…~

  ~...They are uning with the small ones fearful of the dark.~

  ~The Lord of Wisdom is deeper still.~

  ~May your message be spread.~

  The dead furbolgs whispered to my little round ears, and I thahem.

  As to where my targets were… they were in Hollowmaw, christened by the Bear Lord after Grizzlemaw for its striking simirities, the good ones.

  Here, we could talk about capital propper. Or the hope it bees one.

  It ermassive bunker, and that barely scratched the surface. It was what we were w on eg the tuo, not without heavy protes, but that was the ultimate goal.

  The walk there was short with my stride, around an hour or so. It wasn't particurly deep pared to the sea level, but it was still uhe rgest mountain of Kalimdor.

  I walked out of a vegetated path and took flight into a gargantuan cavity.

  It reached around one kilometer up and one and a half down from my position while being around three times the average of the two in diameter. It was shaped like a rge der, a der drawn by a newborn, but a der all the same.

  It was a natural formation we revamped for our needs, and the sight was as magnifit as ever.

  It wasn't dark, and I doubt even a human wouldn't be able to see. The may was such that rge and small bright verdant energies wisps coalesced everywhere, but that was only one part. The ceiling had a tapestry of ever-shifting biolumi flora that spread throughout Hollon to the crystal clear ke at the bottom.

  But the primary light source wasn't any of the above, even bined. It was an immense root cutting through the ey of the cavern.

  From it, it sprouted rge leaves, vines, and thinner sedary roots digging into the walls, reinf them and merging with the ecosystem. Every part of it glowed green, and occasionally, red fshed through vein-like pathways.

  It was a root of the World Tree Nordrassil. One I amputated off the rest to work on, with Ursol easily getting the accord of arius preemptively. It was a fra of a fra of the World Tree, a rge branch at most, but it remained from the World Tree.

  It was the of the Under, Undrassil.

  And it was vital to this underground city.

  It may have lost its Aspects' blessed powers from my as, but aside from the anti-corruption, I didn't give a single fuck about the blessings, which solely targeted night elves.

  And this weakness was already taken care of by its pt in the Dreaming deep under Nordrassil and the Goldilocks oh. It wasn't as good, but it wasn't far behind, and most importantly, it was indepe.

  It essentially could be sidered a World Tree sapling, yet not truly. It was closer to the Great Trees–miniature World Trees used as Dream Portals geors–but overall far better. As such, Undrassil was quite a daring name I chose for it, but it was on theme.

  It eled the Emerald Dream and had a mind-boggling life ford mana geion, making it the beati of my biosphere. It was even why the Goldilocks had been worth wasting years creating and perfeg.

  It was one of, if not my greatest achievement.

  "Ah, there you are," I mumbled with the equivalent of a smile for a bloodthirsty bat the size of a small fighter jet.

  My targets were in front of me: three furbolgs–a brown cub, a white female, and an elderly bck male–with a kobold, even if only two of the whole were why I came here.

  I nded loudly, no word necessary to announce my presence, and the kobold–a taskmaster from the size of her dle–reacted first in an overly dramatic way fitting to her kind's adage.

  She lost her shit.

  "Kigug scared! Don't wanna die! Please you! Protect Kigug!" She screamed, hiding behind the cub, a cub whose rea opposed the rat-woman. Fangirling would be the appropriate term for the young one's respoo me.

  "That was awesome! By Ursoc, you're even more amazing in real life! You're super big, like bigger than Big Herga! Oh! you do the nding again after?! I want to do that, too! Could you teach me? I want to be like you!" He spat like a Gatling gun and would have run up to me if not for Ferli–the white-furred one and the Elder Shaman–snatg him by the scruff of his neck.

  "Tur! Foolish cub, quiet down and show respect!" She cried out in embarrassed fury before swiftly speaking to me with reverence, and it was entirely genuine and pure, a stark difference, "My sincere apologies, Chosen of the Twins… this impious cub is my nephew and student, and he be… excitable. He is quite passionate."

  "I see. That's alright. Excellent even. We need more of us like Tur," I said with amusement and a small grin, my tone of voice softening but still rumbling, "It empering, however, but that variety of willingness is our way forward. Don't be too hard on him for what he just did. You don't bme a fish for its inability to climb a tree."

  The cub iion after that ositively eted.

  "True, the young are young. Is there anything that needs doing, Honored of the Greenweald?" The Chieftain, the bck-furred elder, asked, and the kobold–now out of her panic attack–repeatedly nodded.

  "Yes-yes! Why, oh, Blessed dlebringer here? Did Kigug do blunter and Blessed dlebringer here to punish her by taking her dle?! Please don't!" She pipped, grabbing and holding on to her dle for dear life. At aime, I would have ughed at her antics. Kobolds were persohey were rats, after all. You just had to pass the step where they were scared of you and be good, and they sent it back tenfold.

  It was one of my best choices to test my lu getting them. As, I wasn't in the mood. Snapping my cws close to the kobold taskmaster, a muffled etal echoed, bursting her existential crisis bubble, letting me refocus oimbermaw Chieftain.

  "No, aanrir. I have e to inform you of the retreat. It's time. And we must act with swiftness and calm." I said gravely, and the rea redicted; even Kugig uood.

  "War is ing."

  The_Bip_Boop2003

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