Mage Legend-Chapter 345 - 25 episodes Song Voice_2

Wisps of white mist rose from the surface of the river, the final traces of ghosts and vampires left in this world. The powerful blessings utterly destroyed these things from the Undead World. No one knows where these souls, who have already lost their lives once, will drift to, but it is certain they will never return to the Undead World. Compared to experiencing that gray and hopeless space once more, complete obliteration is likely a better choice.

"Praise the Moonlight God!" The elves would not show any mercy to these invaders. Many of their comrades on the front line did not return. Those elves who did not encounter the Banshees do not know how they sacrificed themselves. But clearly, those elf warriors have given their precious lives. Elves have nearly unlimited time to experience life, each individual is a tome recording history. Therefore, the loss of any soul erases the history of the entire elf race.

Vampires have no resistance against the silver road laid by the Priest. Once injured, they can only choose to flee backwards as fast as possible, hiding in dark corners to slowly repair their bodies. Since vampires have a self-repair ability that ghosts do not, the elves’ attacks are more focused on those attempting to escape.

Ghosts instinctively felt the powerful Holy Power ahead, and slowed their advance. While their master’s command to "keep advancing" couldn’t be disobeyed, slowing down was within their capability. When the first wave of Undead Monsters hit this defensive wall, they shattered like waves crashing against rocks, leaving nothing but a few droplets of mist behind.

Not even a sound remained. The entire forest became extremely silent, the sound of arrows piercing the air and the majestic music of the sacred song both disappeared completely. The undead vanished without a trace, as if they had never appeared at all.

Within the trees, there was no trace of movement left, only white mist that continued to slowly drift. Though there were gentle breezes blowing through, not a single leaf could make the usual "rustling" sound, everything had frozen still.

Only the quivering arrows lodged in tree trunks recorded the events that happened here not long ago.

"What happened?" An elf archer said. His voice was low and light, with a hint of hoarse trembling mixed within. He stood up straight in surprise, even finding his own voice strange.

Anxiety gradually spread, and the unknown attack must be lurking ahead. The companions who didn’t return had revealed the cruelty of battle—they had perished as whole squads, no individual could escape. That could only mean there was something stronger than ghosts and vampires among the enemies.

From the distance of the forest, a wailing sound gradually emerged, the kind of mournful crying began to erode the elves’ fighting spirit, causing them to incessantly ponder about the dark ending: when they die, what mournful songs will their loved ones use to lament them, and will those emotions be the last relic they leave to the world?

’Run quickly, while there’s still time...’ Some elves began harboring such thoughts, like a black plague sprouting from deep within the soil, growing and destroying the trees within their souls.

"Do we want the enemy’s song to forever resound in the Elf Forest, echoing in our homes?" An unknown elf shouted with all his might: "Shall we elves cease singing?"

No more words were needed, nor explanations required. It did not matter where this shouting warrior came from. The elves around him awoke from a deep dream, parted their parched lips, and began to sing, their voices rising higher and higher. The elves unanimously chose a hymn to the Moonlight Goddess, perhaps because the Priest of the Moon God was standing beside them. From the first high tower, the other outposts around it began to follow, and this song gradually spread throughout the forest, like the beacon of hope, drowning out the cries issued by the Banshees completely.

Every elf who heard the song knew clearly: even in this isolated high tower, they were not alone, nearby, not far away, there were their fellow kin and family fighting alongside them, and their destinies and bloodlines forever intertwined. Thus, even the youngest warriors no longer felt fear; even the lowest-ranking priests would not tremble from inexperience while singing. This one melody alone could replace all sacred songs, for it was a song sung from the heart.

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