Arcane Journey

"Do you know what kind of struggle and pain I am facing in this endless chaos? The elves only saw the changes on my surface - the twisted limbs, the dark power, the cold appearance. But they never understood the tear in my heart.

I long for freedom, but I am tightly bound by fate. In order to save those who are forgotten and oppressed, I have to choose rebellion. This road is full of thorns, but I can't retreat, because it is the only choice I can make. "

Rose, the Spider Queen, spoke like needles piercing the air. Each word carried a heavy weight, as if speaking of the suffering and silence of the entire world.

Although her voice was soft, it echoed in the void like thunder.

After saying this, she sighed softly unconsciously.

This sigh seemed to have traveled through countless epochs. Even the air froze because of her sadness, and the darkness remained still because of her loneliness.

Brian stared blankly at Rose, the Spider Queen in front of him, with astonishment in his eyes almost overflowing from his eyes.

He subconsciously held his breath, fearing that he would accidentally break this incredible illusion.

You know, in Brian's cognition, Rose is the embodiment of darkness and conspiracy, the synonym of cold-bloodedness and cruelty, and an existence feared by countless creatures.

Her name echoes in the legend like a nightmare, bringing with it a chilling chill.

However, at this moment, a trace of fragility and sadness that had never been seen before appeared on that face that had always been arrogant and indifferent.

Her eyes were no longer as cold and piercing as a poisonous snake's. Instead, they were like a spider web shattered by wind and rain, revealing an indescribable fatigue and helplessness.

At this moment, Brian even doubted his own eyes.

Is this Rose still the evil god that even the gods fear?

A complex emotion surged in Brian's heart, as if a string was gently plucked by an invisible hand.

He subconsciously wondered if this was another elaborate scam?

Is Rose using this almost humble attitude to try to arouse the sympathy of her enemies and buy herself a chance of survival?
However, the bottomless sadness in her eyes did not seem fake.

The long-suppressed desire to talk, as if it had been accumulated for countless centuries, finally found an outlet at this moment.

Brian couldn't help but wonder, even the darkest existence has its unspeakable pain?

At this moment, Brian felt an unprecedented sense of contradiction churning in his chest. He wanted to withdraw from this emotional performance that was difficult to distinguish between true and false, but he was also attracted by some indescribable force, as if he had glimpsed a secret hidden in the abyss.

In this chaotic and disordered underworld, shadows intertwined and fog lingered. After Rose finished speaking, her figure seemed particularly lonely.

She seemed to be sitting under a faint moonlight, the spider web behind her swaying gently, just like the inextricable chaos deep in her heart.

In the dark space, Rose stood quietly, her eyes like a flickering candle in the night, revealing a heartbreaking sadness.

Her eyes no longer had the coldness and majesty of the past. Instead, they looked like a housewife whose back was bent by life, with eyes full of helplessness and pleading with her scumbag husband who was living a life of debauchery to come back and live a good life. It must be said that this miserable look was simply silently telling of her bitterness and endurance, which made people feel a little pity, and even doubt whether she was really as evil and ruthless as the legend said.

Brian forced himself to look away, but his heart seemed to be tightly grasped by an invisible hand.

He didn't dare to look any longer, fearing that if he stared any longer, the solid cognitive defense line in his heart would collapse - the cold-blooded, cruel, manipulative Spider Queen would actually reveal such a real and fragile side.

His reason told him that this was just another tactic, a deeper kind of bewitching. But somewhere in his heart, he was wavering: Maybe she had her own difficulties? Maybe she was not hopeless?
Brian didn't dare to think about it anymore. He quickly shifted his attention and fixed his gaze on the blurry and unrememberable shadow.

I saw this figure standing at the intersection of light and shadow, like a fragment of a chapter forgotten by time. If you didn't stare at it deliberately, you would hardly be able to detect its existence.

However, at this moment, a name vaguely emerged in Brian's mind - Corellon Laresian.

Obviously, there is probably no one else except the refugee leader Corellon Larethian, the Lord God of the Elf, who can force the Spider Queen Rose to vent her dissatisfaction like a wronged young wife.

As Brian's eyes locked on the shadow of Corellon Larethian.

This time, what surprised him was that not only did he not forget Him all of a sudden like before, but His shadow became clearer at a speed visible to the naked eye.

In just a moment, in the dim light between dusk and dawn, the Elf God became clear, as if time had stopped.

The beauty of this elf is incomparable to anything in this mortal world. Her facial features are as flawless as jade that has been carved for thousands of years, and her skin is like petals blooming in the morning dew, with a faint glow.

He possesses both masculine fortitude and feminine gentleness, with a graceful figure and light yet unignorable steps. He is like the embodiment of natural law, inspiring awe and admiration at first sight.

That sky blue cloak is always draped on His shoulders, like flowing water in the sky, fluttering in the wind, and one can seem to hear the echo of the whispers of the ancient forest.

The edge of the cloak is embroidered with star trails outlined by silver thread, flickering faintly in the night, like a thread of fate wrapped around his body.

He wears an exquisite and flawless ring-shaped amulet around his neck. The metallic luster is cold and mysterious. A miniature crescent moon is suspended in the center. The moonlight flows, connecting to some ancient and powerful power.

His hands were clad in a pair of combat iron gloves, the surface of which was covered with intricate runes and fine cracks, and each line seemed to carry the memory of countless battles.

In the darkness of the Underdark, the gloves glowed with a cold metallic luster, dazzling the eyes, yet exuding a quiet sense of oppression.

When He gently clenched His fist, the air seemed to vibrate, as if thunder was brewing between His fingers.

This is a being that does not belong to this mortal world, an elf god that only appears in legends, walking between reality and fantasy, both distant and real.

His gaze is as deep as the night sky, hiding the secrets of the galaxy for thousands of years; his breath is as gentle as the spring breeze, but it hides the edge of a storm.

Everyone who looked at him would hold their breath involuntarily, as if they were not facing a warrior, but an epic poem that had not yet been completed, an eternal and immortal legend. (End of this chapter)