Capítulo 372: The Pink-Haired Harbinger
The room was dim, its oppressive shadows broken only by the faint flicker of screens displaying holograms of the battlefield. Kaelith Velcroix stood at the center, his presence like a storm cloud, swirling with palpable frustration and dread. His crimson cloak, edged with the sigils of the Red Chalice, billowed slightly as the air around him grew heavy with tension.
"Shit!" he snarled, slamming a gauntleted fist onto the crystalline console. The holographic images wavered for a moment, static crackling like an echo of his rage.
The reports were grim—disastrous, even. The combined might of the Eastern continent's forces, led by three Radiant-rankers, was an unstoppable tide. Radiant light clashed with vampiric black mana, shattering the cult's carefully laid plans. And the ones who should have been there to balance the scales? Nowhere in sight.
The Vampire Monarch was locked in a cataclysmic duel with the Martial King, their battle a tale of destruction carved across mountains and cities alike. Alyssara Velcroix, his sister and leader of the Red Chalice Cult, had vanished without explanation. Kaelith's lips twisted in a grimace.
"Where are you, big sis?" he muttered under his breath, his voice carrying the faintest tremor of desperation. For all her unpredictability, Alyssara was the anchor of their operations. She held their fractured ambitions together with a cunning that even their enemies grudgingly respected. Without her, the cult was teetering on the brink of chaos.
Kaelith rubbed his temple, his thoughts a torrent of doubt and worry. Should he, the Vice Leader, take the field himself? The idea was absurd—laughable, even. He might have reached the pinnacle of Immortal-rank, but standing against a Radiant-ranker was a fool's errand. The gap between their levels was a chasm not easily bridged.
His frustration bubbled over as he paced the room. The situation demanded decisive action, yet every option seemed to lead to ruin. The three Vampire Venerables and Cassius von Noctis could potentially counter the Radiant-rankers if they joined forces, but doing so would dangerously thin their defenses elsewhere. Kaelith knew well the price of overextension—it was a lesson carved into the annals of cult history, written in the blood of the careless.
He paused, his eyes narrowing at the screens as he watched another stronghold fall, its defenders overwhelmed by the relentless advance of the Eastern forces. The Radiant-rankers were too efficient, too devastating. Every swing of their weapons, every burst of their mana, turned tides that would have drowned lesser warriors.
Kaelith's fingers flexed, his claws digging into his palms as he tried to channel his growing unease into focus. His mind raced, searching for a solution, but it was hard to think clearly when Alyssara's absence gnawed at him like a wound. She'd always been the one to see paths where others saw only walls.
"Damn it, Alyssara," he growled. "What game are you playing?"
Kaelith's connection to her was more than mere loyalty. She was his elder sister, his closest confidante, the one who had pulled him from the depths of obscurity and shaped him into what he was today. And now, when he needed her most, she was gone—vanished into the shadows she commanded so effortlessly.
The pressure was unbearable. His cultists whispered doubts in the corridors, their faith in him faltering. The war demanded sacrifices, but with every stronghold lost, the cult's position weakened further. He could almost hear the mocking voices of the Eastern forces celebrating their victories.
Mo Zenith's plum blossoms, Leopold Astoria's starlight swordsmanship, and Selene Kagu's frost glaive carved devastating arcs through the battlefield, scattering soldiers like autumn leaves in a gale. The trio's relentless precision and grace turned the Red Chalice's forces into a tableau of desperation, their numbers dwindling by the moment.
Kaelrith's focus was fixed on the holograms before him, his jaw clenched so tightly it ached. The chaos was closing in on all sides, his forces battered and broken under the weight of overwhelming Radiant-ranked might.
And then, a voice—light, lilting, and maddeningly playful—cut through his spiraling thoughts like a whip cracking in the still air.
"Did you call me~?"
The sound was unmistakable, sending an involuntary shiver racing down Kaelrith's spine. He whirled, and space itself seemed to fold and ripple as Alyssara Velcroix emerged, her form materialising with the elegance of a dancer stepping onto a stage. Her jade green eyes glinted with mirth, framed by her unmistakable pink hair that swayed with every subtle movement.
"Big sis!" Kaelrith's relief was palpable, his face lighting up despite himself. "We need your help."
Alyssara's gaze flicked to him briefly before drifting lazily to the holograms hovering in the air. Her expression remained inscrutable as she approached, her hands clasped behind her back. She scanned the images with the practiced ease of someone observing a game board rather than a battlefield soaked in blood.
Her smile was slow to form but dazzlingly bright when it did. "Send them all here," she said, her manicured finger pointing to a desolate patch of terrain on the holograms—a barren wasteland far removed from the current fighting.
Kaelrith blinked, confusion and apprehension flaring in equal measure. "Why?" he asked, tilting his head like a curious bird.
"I'll face them all," Alyssara replied breezily, her tone almost bored, as though she were suggesting a walk in the garden.
Kaelrith froze, his mind reeling. "All of them?" he repeated, his voice low and strained, searching her jade eyes for some flicker of jest. But there was none. Her smile, playful as ever, did not falter.
Before he could voice another protest, Alyssara turned on her heel, her strides as languid as her words. She left the room without a backward glance, her pink hair swaying like a pendulum that marked the inevitability of her resolve.
Kaelrith stared after her, his thoughts in disarray. "She'll face them all?" he muttered under his breath, his hands twitching at his sides.
And yet, a small, irrational part of him believed her. For all her frivolity and capriciousness, Alyssara Velcroix had never been one to speak empty words. Where she walked, chaos followed, but so too did power—unrelenting, incomprehensible power.
The Vice Leader turned back to the holograms, his eyes now tracing the path his sister had laid out. Her plan was reckless to the point of madness, but wasn't that always the way with Alyssara?
"Fine," he whispered, issuing the necessary orders. The pieces on the board shifted, soldiers redirected, the trap set. If she wanted to face them all, he'd see to it she got her wish.
And deep in his heart, Kaelrith could only hope that his sister's game was one she could still win.
Alyssara strolled out of the room, her heels clicking softly against the stone floor as she hummed a tune, light and airy as though she hadn't just stepped into the heart of a war. Her jade eyes glinted with a playful sharpness, but beneath the surface, a storm brewed. Her steps slowed, her head tilting back lazily as she stretched her arms above her head, the picture of nonchalance.
And then her eyes darkened.
'I didn't want to return yet,' she thought, the corners of her mouth curling into a faint pout. The weight of her decision hung heavy, even as her posture betrayed nothing but languid ease. Stretching time was an indulgence she rarely afforded herself, and it irked her to have been pulled back before she was ready.
It had been ten months since she began her ascent to peak Radiant-rank—a process requiring patience even she found tedious. But patience was not a luxury the Red Chalice cult and their vampiric allies could afford. Their enemies, bolstered by three Radiant-rankers, had inflicted devastating blows. And so Alyssara returned, her threads spinning to stitch the gaping wounds of her side's waning advantage.
"Lucky," she muttered under her breath, her tone edged with sardonic amusement. "They're so lucky they still have a part to play."
Her jade eyes flickered, their focus drifting not to the walls of the headquarters but beyond them. She scanned the entire cult complex, her vision stretching over every corner, every corridor, every shadow. Each thread of her power hummed with potential, coiled tightly around her fingertips.
With a single thought, she could unravel it all. Her threads could twist space into knots, fold it upon itself, and obliterate the entirety of this place. The idea danced enticingly in her mind, an itch she was tempted to scratch.
And yet, she didn't.
The Red Chalice cult, for all its flaws, was still a piece on the board. A necessary pawn in the unfolding story. Even Alyssara, as unpredictable as she was, understood the rules of the game. The timing wasn't right—not yet.
Her lips twitched into a grin, sharp and mischievous. 'It's boring though,' she thought, the edges of her mind brushing against the dull ache of restrained chaos. 'Hopefully, three Radiant-rankers can give me a bit of fun.'
Her gaze turned forward again, her steps resuming their unhurried pace. Humming once more, Alyssara felt the threads of her power subtly tighten. It wasn't time to cut loose, not yet, but the prospect lingered, a glimmering promise in the back of her mind.
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