WKOC Extra 8 (End)

5

When Asa hurried back to camp, he wasn’t surprised to find a crowd of Beastfolk blocking the suspended walkway. Men and women of all shapes and sizes filled the path. The smallest, a Mousefolk, was no longer than a human arm, while the largest, a Bearfolk, sitting down, was still taller than a human. Elves, Dwarves, and Druids sat or stood in the group, each clutching a barrel of wine, filling the air with a strong blend of various fruity aromas.

The Beastfolk were natural brewers, and their habit of adjusting recipes by mood meant that each batch of their wine was unique. At every feast, they would eagerly bring out their wines to share with others, especially favored guests like… the Dark Church’s Pope, Les.

As a veteran wine enthusiast who practically lived on alcohol, Les received the warmest hospitality from the Beastfolk.

The Dark Church’s camp was on the opposite side of the Rift. Like the Light Church, it was a network of treehouses crafted by the Elves with natural magic. However, under the influence of dark energy, these trees had a twisted look, with dense, dark green foliage that made the place seem shrouded even in daylight. The Elves had planted glowing flora throughout the vines, illuminating the entire camp with gentle, dim light, creating an atmosphere akin to a mystical dream.

But that serene dream was shattered by the cheerful Beastfolk.

They had built a massive round platform atop the trees, linking it to eight walkways and adorning it with bright, blossoming flowers using natural magic. This flower-covered “spider” sat at the heart of the Dark Church’s camp, bustling with Beastfolk coming to drink and dance with the Dark Pope every day.

Seeing no way to get through, Asa gave up trying to squeeze past the crowd. Grabbing a vine, he swung up to a branch and hopped lightly between the trees until he reached a spot above the platform, where he scanned the crowd with his sharp archer’s eyes. His gaze quickly settled on a head of black hair—Les, the Dark Pope himself, sat between two Dwarves, with a flushed face and glazed eyes, holding a giant wooden mug, clearly deep into his drink.

…Hopeless. Asa sighed.

Continuing his search, he soon spotted the person who had sent him an urgent distress call—a silver-haired man in black was surrounded by a group of drunken Elves. Perhaps due to their communal lifestyle in the forest, the Beastfolk had little sense of personal space. The man was practically buried under Elves hanging on his back, lying across his knees, leaning against his legs. One even sat on his shoulders, placing a wine glass on his head as if it were a table. Despite this, the man sat motionless, eyes closed, in a deep state of mental shutdown, like a forgotten statue.

Asa’s eye twitched.

—This was Unas, the Vice Commander of the Death Knights.

6

Unlike the Light Church’s Holy Knights, the Death Knights were always led by the Dark Pope himself, ensuring their complete loyalty. The second-in-command, and the actual commander of day-to-day operations, was the Vice Commander.

According to Dark Church tradition, each Vice Commander had to swear loyalty to the Pope during their appointment ceremony. Thirty years ago, an internal conflict led to the previous Vice Commander being slain by Captain Unas, who thus rose to his current position. But at his appointment, Unas knelt before the Pope in silence, unable to speak a word, and the atmosphere became unbearably tense.

Both Les and Asa, as new initiates at the time, had been present as regular attendees. After napping through the ceremony, Les woke to find that the pledge portion was still stalled. So, he’d taken a pen and paper from under his wheelchair, rolled them into a ball, and tossed it to Unas. Only then did Unas finally move, scribbling his pledge and handing it over, allowing the ceremony to proceed.

For a long time, Asa believed Unas was mute.

Until one day, Les secretly poured his vegetable juice into Unas’ tea. Unaware, Unas drank it all in one go, crushed the cup, and said flatly, “This tastes like crap.”

—Unas, a hardcore social phobic, would rather die than talk to people.

—But the vegetable juice truly tasted like crap.

7

In the Dark Church, everyone knew how much the Vice Commander hated talking to people—those who didn’t had all been killed by Unas—but they also knew that he only disliked two-way interaction. As long as he didn’t have to respond, he was surprisingly tolerant of one-sided socialization.

As a result, the Death Knights often treated their socially hostile Vice Commander as a sort of emotional dumping ground.

A long-standing joke in the Dark Church went like this: if you want to tell whether someone’s a true Dark Church follower, watch where they go to confess. If they head to the confessional in the church, they’re a fake; real followers go straight to the Vice Commander’s room.

It was a joke, but Unas was indeed a more popular confessor than the deserted confessional. He never spoke a word of it to anyone else and wouldn’t drive anyone out.

At most, he just shut down emotionally.

Knowing Unas’ shutdown mode well, Asa descended to the platform and started prying the clinging Elves off the “silver-haired statue.” The drunken Elves didn’t mind, simply attaching themselves to other people as Asa dragged Unas by his collar to the edge of the platform and tossed him over the railing.

Unas’ high ponytail whipped through the air before disappearing into the fog below.

But at the last second, a hand caught a branch.

Unas reappeared, splitting the mist as he agilely climbed back up, crouching on a nearby branch. His dark green eyes glinted, glaring at Asa like a lone wolf sizing up prey in the night.

The Dark Son leaned casually against the flower-draped railing, waving with a cheeky smile. “You’re welcome.”

Unas’ social shutdown state was lifted, and he returned to normal. His wolfish gaze dropped to the ground as he struggled internally before nodding ever so slightly. Standing up to leave, he paused when Asa’s lazy voice floated down from above, “Unas, I have a task for you.”

Unas didn’t turn around, and Asa continued nonchalantly, “Change into formal attire. This afternoon, you’re negotiating with the Light Pope.”

Unas: “…”

His pupils contracted, and his hands trembled, but he still didn’t look back.

—To refuse meant he’d have to talk to Asa. Not refusing meant he’d have to talk to the Light Pope.

—No matter what he chose, he’d have to socialize.

—And he couldn’t kill either of them!

Asa watched his stiff back, an evil grin forming as he leaned down and whispered to the small cloud of dark mist on his shoulder, “Master, does this taste good?”

The Dark God, who had been starving since their arrival in the Rift due to the never-ending jollity of the Beastfolk, poked out a tendril from the mist, giving a tiny thumbs-up. “Delicious!”

8

Meanwhile, completely unaware of his contribution to the Dark God’s sustenance, the Light Pope sat atop an exposed tree root with a thick book floating before him. From the front, he appeared fully absorbed in studying the dense Elven tome, occasionally frowning and discussing challenging passages with the Elf princess beside him. Known among the Beastfolk as a magical prodigy, she had exceptional insight into natural magic and was happy to offer guidance.

But from the back, it was clear that the Pope held two flower-laden vines in his hands, following Lily’s instructions to weave them into a garland.

“Thread this vine through here, tie a knot, loop it around, and back through there…” Lily babbled on, before sighing heavily when she glanced at his progress. “How can you not get this? It’s so simple!”

After his third accidental knot, the Pope sighed, admitting he wasn’t very skilled at making garlands. He subtly lifted his tangled half-garland behind the book and waved it in Alvin’s direction.

Alvin, just finished with his morning training, was chatting with some knights while wiping his brow. Unaware of Hillier’s subtle gestures, he continued his conversation. Hillier quickly lowered the garland, rolling his neck to ease the stiffness from hours of work, and glanced around.

The area, cleared for the knights’ training, was usually teeming with Beastfolk, who enjoyed gathering to watch, even for basic drills.

But today, the edge of the woods was empty. Not a single Beastfolk was there.

“Oh, they all went to the Dark camp to drink,” Lily chirped.

“…Didn’t they drink last night?”

“What does drinking last night have to do with going for drinks this morning?” Lily asked, bewildered.

Hillier hesitated.

—The previous night, the Beastfolk had set the banquet for eight, but they’d actually started drinking before six. When Hillier arrived at the hall on time, the first batch of drunk Beastfolk was already under the tables, while a second wave was cheering on the drinking contest between the Dark Pope and the Light Judicator. Alvin had tried to stop them but got intercepted and drunk under the table himself by some enthusiastic Beastfolk, forcing Hillier to carry him to a corner to rest. By the end of the banquet, Alvin had just woken up and joined in hauling drunken Elves out of the hall. Thinking back on the chaos still gave Hillier a headache. How the Beastfolk could have partied like that, dug a lake overnight, and then resumed drinking that morning was beyond him.

They’d shown such valor in the last battle against the demon lord. How did things get this out of hand?

He amusedly pondered this as he snapped a small, undamaged vine from the garland, twisted it into a ring, and motioned for Alvin to come over. Alvin, puzzled, approached, noticing the vine ring in Hillier’s hand, and bashfully pursed his lips.

“Al, lower your head.” Hillier raised the ring.

Lower… shouldn’t he extend his hand? Confused, the Knight Commander still lowered his head as instructed.

Hillier placed the tiny ring atop Alvin’s Brilliance tuft.

“Perfect,” Hillier said approvingly, “It suits Brilliance well.”

Knight Commander: “…???”

9

Selena walked off, holding Lily’s mouth shut, until they were a safe distance away, then set her down.

“Lady Selena!” Lily exclaimed as she hugged Selena’s foreleg, delighted. “I thought you’d gone to the Dark camp to drink!”

Selena, the only Beastfolk who couldn’t hold her drink and lost even to Lily, chuckled dryly and gestured for quiet. “Keep your voice down.”

Lily clamped both hands over her mouth, nodding earnestly, her fresh green eyes wide.

Selena couldn’t resist ruffling her hair and said hesitantly, “Next time you see Al… I mean, Alvin and Hillier sitting together… uh, kissing, maybe don’t startle them, okay?”

“I didn’t mean to scare them!” Lily whispered, uncovering her mouth a little. “I just wanted to bless them!”

Among the Beastfolk, it was common practice to celebrate a couple’s kiss by showering them with flowers and blessings. The last time she’d caught Alvin and Hillier kissing, she’d brought a wreath of vines she’d woven herself and placed it on Hillier’s head. But for some reason, the two had been so startled Alvin almost drew his sword!

Selena: “I know you meant well, but next time, don’t dangle down from a tree and put the wreath around someone’s neck.”

—It wasn’t Alvin’s fault he’d reacted. From his perspective, it did look a lot like an assassination attempt on Hillier!

“Oh…” Lily nodded, looking crestfallen.

Seeing her downcast expression, Selena picked her up and set her on her back. “Why don’t we go visit Asa?”

Lily’s eyes lit up—Asa, the Dark Son, was the most handsome person she knew! But…

She hesitated. “But he doesn’t like playing with me…”

Unlike the Light camp, Asa had no patience for the young Elf princess, either dodging her visits or using his dry wit to send her away. Lily had never managed to befriend him.

“That’s because you’re approaching him the wrong way,” Selena said, “For different people, you need different methods. With Alvin, you could offer him a nice fruit. But for Asa, he’ll only befriend you after a good brawl!”

Lily blinked. “Really?”

“Yep, he loves a good fight!” Selena said with a laugh. “And if you can’t beat him, I’ll back you up! We’ll keep going until he agrees to be friends!”

“Yay!”

With that, the little Elf princess cheered and quickly forgot all about the Pope and the Knight Commander. She held onto Selena’s waist as they raced toward the Dark camp.

Meanwhile, Asa, having just tormented the Dark followers, suddenly sneezed.

The Dark God, now full and wrapped in dark mist, stretched out a tiny paw to pull up his collar, diligently looking after his loyal “food source.” Les, who was being pushed by Asa, turned back and, after rummaging in his sleeve, handed Asa a thick cloak.

Asa’s sharp eyes spotted a small vial that had slipped out with the cloak and quickly snatched it before Les could hide it—a thin potion bottle filled with murky green liquid. Asa’s hand-crafted vegetable juice.

“…You were supposed to drink this two days ago, Teacher,” Asa said with a pleasant smile.

Les: “…”

He widened his eyes, casting his best puppy-dog look at his student.

“Don’t give me that look. You’re drinking it,” Asa replied, forehead throbbing.

Failed in his attempt to charm his way out of drinking, Les simply pulled his hood down and pretended to be dead.

—After all, this was the vegetable juice Asa had been brewing for thirty years, each batch just as unpleasant as the last.

Gripping the wheelchair, Asa had to fight the urge to just push his troublesome teacher off the walkway. Before he could act, the sound of hooves caught his attention.

Riding on Selena’s back, Lily waved cheerfully and called out, “Asa! I’m here to be your friend!”

Asa: “…”

The Dark Son rolled his eyes.

He’d just fed the Dark God, needed to escort his teacher back to rest, and still had to clear the drunk Beastfolk from the camp, supervise the Death Knights, discuss the contract terms with the Light Pope, dig out the Vice Commander (who had buried himself to avoid socializing), handle backlogged Church affairs, organize the hazardous items in the lab, and resolve various complaints from other Dark members… He had absolutely no desire to play “make friends” with the clueless Elf princess.

Before he could come up with an excuse, Lily jumped off Selena’s back, boldly announcing, “If you won’t be my friend, then Selena and I will beat you up until you agree!”

Selena cracked her knuckles, clearly relishing the idea of him refusing.

Asa: “…”

Was it too late to bury himself next to Unas?

At that moment, Les suddenly spoke up from his wheelchair, “I’ll be your friend.”

“Huh?” Lily looked curiously at the cloaked figure.

Les pulled back his hood, revealing a pair of jewel-like green eyes beneath soft black curls. His face, flushed from drinking, appeared both adorable and pitiable.

“Alright!” Lily said without hesitation.

Selena: “…”

Asa: “…”

At that moment, they shared the same thought: he’s shameless enough to charm a young Elf!

Les quickly pulled out another vial of vegetable juice from his sleeve and offered it eagerly. “Here, friend, try this!”

“…Wait—” Asa began.

Too late. Lily had already uncorked it, taken a sniff, and gulped it down before Asa could stop her!

Asa: “…”

He re-routed his outstretched hand, massaging his temples.

Well, there was no avoiding a brawl with Selena now—

“Wow, this is delicious!” Lily said in surprise, holding out the bottle for Selena. “Lady Selena, try it!”

Selena glanced warily at Les, doubting he’d offer anything good. She sniffed the juice, checked for toxins, and cautiously took a sip.

“It’s actually… pretty good,” she admitted.

Asa: “…Huh?”

“You got any more? I’ll trade some good fruit for it!” Lily asked excitedly. “It’s really good, and I want to share it with my friends!”

“Or some wine,” Selena said, crossing her arms. “As much as you got, we’ll trade for it!”

Les nodded enthusiastically and, with a flourish, dumped a mountain of vegetable juice vials from his sleeve. “I have plenty!”

Asa: “…What?”

10

The signing of the agreement took place in the heart of the Eastern Rift.

On this day, the Beastfolk, led by Selena, appeared in formal attire with green leaf emblems on their chests. The Light and Dark Churches, naturally, displayed equal dedication to ritual decorum. All three parties set out from the west, south, and north edges of the rift, aiming to reach the signing platform at the end of the ceremonial music.

Midway, the three groups spotted one another.

The Light Pope subtly raised his brow and, maintaining his steady gaze, whispered to Alvin at his side, “I received a divine message from our Lord.”

Alvin, on guard, looked over to the platform above the demon lord’s seal and whispered back, “Is there an issue with the seal?”

“No,” the Pope replied, “Our Lord wants us to activate Light Wing.”

Alvin: “…?”

Light Wing was a divine spell the Light God had recently granted.

After the Light God’s reawakening, one day, He summoned the Knight Commander alone and taught him this new divine technique. That very evening, Luke had snapped hundreds of photos of Alvin practicing the spell. The same night, a minor earthquake inexplicably shook the Dark Church, and during evening prayers, many dark followers reportedly heard their god cursing loudly.

Unlike other powerful spells, Light Wing served no real purpose beyond brief levitation but demanded substantial energy. The Knight Commander had never quite understood its purpose until he looked across the platform to see the Dark Church delegation approaching, and comprehension dawned.

The Pope and Knight Commander exchanged a glance, each seeing the faintest trace of amusement in the other’s eyes.

A brilliant aura gathered on their backs, weaving into two massive wings of light, mirroring the dark shadow wings on the Dark Pope and Vice Commander.

Yes, the only purpose of this spell was to make sure the Light Church’s special effects didn’t lose out to the Dark Church!

It seemed almost competitive—when the three leaders stepped onto the platform, the Dark Pope’s dark wings expanded, doubling in size. In response, the Light God poured power into the Pope’s wings, expanding them threefold!

The Dark God retaliated, enlarging the shadow wings to match!

Light and dark flared across the rift, each pushing the other to extremes, until the entire rift was bathed in bright and shadowy contrasts.

Caught in the middle of the display, with wings in her face, Selena: “…”

So they’re just flaunting the fact that the Free Alliance has no wing-spawning spells, huh?

…Because they don’t.

Below, the Knight Commander averted his eyes to ignore the two gods’ petty showdown. He was scheduled to take a half-turn around the platform, greet the Death Knight’s Vice Commander, Unas, and then walk together to take their seats at the front row. The Light Son had already taken his seat on the left side, with the Dark Son to the right, leaving the middle spot for him and Unas…

…Wait.

Alvin’s eyes widened slightly—Unas, who had just escorted the Dark Pope to the platform, was already seated next to the Dark Son! He had somehow skipped the entire procession and seated himself below.

The Knight Commander stifled his surprise and glanced around. Seeing that everyone’s attention was on the platform, he quickly dismissed his light wings and hastily took his place beside Unas, hoping to sync up the formalities.

Though Unas hadn’t notified him about the sudden change, Alvin greeted him politely. “Hello.”

Unas: “…”

Outwardly calm, the Vice Commander was internally screaming.

—Why did he talk to me after I skipped all social interaction steps?!

—Why is there no escaping socializing?!

—And why can’t I fight him?!

Unas clenched his fists, gritted his teeth, and, with effort, managed a single, strangled sound: “Grhk.”

Alvin: “…?”

—Grhk? What does that mean?

—Is there an issue with the seal below? Why is he staring at the ground?

—And why does he seem so tense?

As the Knight Commander puzzled over his social misstep, the Light and Dark Gods finally ended their needless competition and retracted their flashy wings. Both Popes breathed a sigh of relief, while Selena’s eye twitched. She subtly signaled the ritualist to start reading the contract before the gods could create any more havoc.

The ritualist, a tall, blond, golden-eyed man with a green leaf emblem, glanced at Selena’s cue, smiled, dismissed his summoning spell, and unrolled the contract. In a calm, gentle voice, he recited each clause agreed upon by the three factions, reaching all ears—including…

The demon lord beneath the platform, whose spirit was fractured and forced into deep slumber.

A crazed spiritual ripple, unnoticed by most, pulsed faintly from the seal below. Alvin and Asa, as divine hosts, sensed it, and a ripple of unease passed through the Beastfolk.

But the feeble spirit soon quieted.

At the edge of the rift, a thin boy sat, dangling his legs over the precipice, his bony but healthy-looking fingers withdrawing from the cliffside. A tall, brown-haired ranger stood behind him with a fluffy white animal on his shoulder. They quietly observed the ceremony from afar, unnoticed by anyone.

At the center of the rift, the ritualist finished the last clause and placed the scroll in front of the three leaders. Hillier took the pen, glanced toward Alvin, who nodded with his tuft swaying gently. Smiling, Hillier penned his name.

Three soft glows flickered, marking the contract’s completion. The ritualist rolled the scroll, placed a green seal on it, and stepped aside, watching the mingling of humans and Beastfolk below. Smiling slightly, he closed his eyes.

The old age was ending, and a new one was beginning.

The Rift Agreement DLC – THE END