Chapter 71: A true monster
Corpses of the cultists littered the streets of the town, their blood staining the pristine snow. Among them were bodies of townsfolk mixed in; it was a slaughter.
"Casualty report," Asaun ordered with a grimace as he stared at the state of the town known as Briarwick.
"We have suffered none, captain," one of his knights informed. He gave a nod of pride as the man continued, "These lot, however, seemed to be reanimated corpses and not pure Vel'ryrians; our keener knights had detected a hint of mana from them."
"I see, these damned heretics..." Asaun murmured in disgust. "They would not even leave the dead be." He shook his head. "But what of survivors?" He could not see the knight's face, but keen perception and instincts told him it turned grim.
"By the time we arrived here, many townsfolk were already dead," the knight grimaced as he continued. "We've managed to round up the last few survivors, but we will sweep the town once more. We've yet to check all locations."
"I see, most unfortunate." A deep sigh left the knight captain's lips. "I shall assist in the search for more survivors. Where have you yet to look?" The knight gestured to a lone, slightly worn-down wooden building.
"The inn remained untouched by us and the adversaries," the knight explained. Asaun opened his mouth to speak but was stopped when a large tremor resounded through the entire area. Buildings that still stood quaked and threatened to tumble over, along with that, an enormous wave of snow in the distance was kicked up. Asaun's keen eyes narrowed in that direction; he saw a distinct and enormous mana signature.
"The spawn of Octavia is battling someone?" He asked.
"Aye, a monster in the skin of a man," the knight shuddered. "He wielded strength that surpassed us and even the spawn of Octavia."
"An Von Auerswald mayhap," Asaun murmured in thought. "Stay clear of that area; we would only get in the way if we were to intervene. But tell me, barring our little songstress and Ser Dante, is there any other Inheritor in this side of Verdantis?" The knight hesitated before speaking.
"T-there is only Lady Lyraeth," the knight informed. Asaun winced as soon as he heard the girl's name. "Captain, would it not be better to get Ser Dante here? Among the Inheritors, he is the most powerful, no?"
"He is, but currently he is bound to the archbishop as his guard," Asaun stated with a shake of his head. "It would not do us well to take away a personal guard from a member of the governing body." The knight nodded in understanding at his words. "For now, send word to Lady Lyraeth and have her support the spawn of Octavia." More tremors rebounded through the area as Asaun stared into the distance. "If she has not yet bested her opponent, it could only mean it is someone formidable; she might need support."
"At once, captain," his knight parted with a quick salute. Asaun, meanwhile, ignored the various tremors as he moved through the town, giving silent prayers to the bodies of the unfortunate souls. It was not long until he reached his destination: the inn his knight had informed him of. His senses were not detecting anything beyond those doors, not anything living at least.
He pushed past the door and immediately heard the creaking of wood as his armored feet touched the wooden floor. His nose twitched; the familiar scent of blood filled his nostrils. Though the scent led upstairs of the inn.
"Blood drops also lead upwards," the knight captain muttered, his tone low. His armor's clanking was the only thing heard throughout the inn as he made his way up the creaking wooden stairs. The scent of blood only further intensified as his gaze locked onto something: the body of a child.
Messy brown hair and emerald eyes wide and frozen in horror. There was a large and deep gash on his back; mercilessly he was cut down. Asaun kneeled down to the body, reaching out a hand, he closed the boy's eyes.
"May the Gods guide your soul," Asaun stood up, glancing to the side where an open door was. Beyond that, a stronger scent permeated the area. Entering the room to a more tragic sight, a mother's body was protectively over the corpse of another child, perhaps a sibling of the boy. Asaun grit his teeth as he approached the two. The sight of death was not new to the knight captain.
He has witnessed it a number of times; however, the death of children was too much even for him. He looked at the two's expressions: the mother had a blank look upon her face, and the girl looked as if she had recently cried before meeting her fate. But then he noticed something. Reaching out, he took it; it was a piece of paper. A rather crude drawing was on it.
Stick figures, one with a wild head of seemingly white hair and large red eyes—a woman judging by the assets. Then in the middle was a small girl of smaller proportions, brown hair and green eyes, and finally a figure with a head of long blue hair. Asaun heaved a deep and heavy sigh.
The world was a cruel place, as was reality.
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She barely managed to swing her head to the side as Selwyn's blade scraped past her face. The man pivoted on his heel and swung his blade full force; she leaped over it as the force behind the blade sent a wave of force that kicked up more snow. She distanced herself as she healed her wound on her cheek.
"This is getting rather tedious," the prince murmured, his tone still that same bored one. His red orbs gleamed at her with disappointment. "I even moved the battle outside the town so you could use that 'Arcane Ascendance,' yet you still disappoint." She glared at him.
"I care not for your enjoyment, monster!" She aimed at the snow in front of him; an orb of fire took form before it shot out like a speeding bullet. Colliding with the ground, a heavy quake rebounded through the area as a wave of snow erupted upwards, temporarily shielding her. ("In my Inheritor form, my magic would be effective, but there's a change in plan; tier 5 magic should work, given it's semi-divine magic or, in this case, Familial Arts.") She focused her magic and then spoke a few words.
"Familial Arts: Seraphic Chorus."
She raised her hands and clasped them together, and the air seemed to ripple and distort as she summoned forth a swirling vortex of dark energy. The magic coalesced into a phalanx of soldiers, each one clad in dark, obsidian armor that seemed to absorb the pale light of the snow-covered landscape. The soldiers' helmets were featureless, their faces hidden behind visors that glinted like black ice.
The first soldier stepped forward, its sword a blur as it charged towards Selwyn. The man's eyes narrowed, his grip on his sword tightening as he prepared to meet the attack. But Lucinda's magic was far from done. She raised her hand once more, and the soldiers began to multiply, their numbers swelling to a dozen, then two dozen, their dark armor seeming to spread like a stain across the snowy landscape.
The leading soldier struck Selwyn with a series of lightning-fast blows, but the man parried each strike with ease, his sword flashing in the pale light. The soldiers pressed their attack, their blades clashing against Selwyn's as they sought to overwhelm him with sheer numbers. But Lucinda's magic was not limited to mere brute force.
As the soldiers attacked, dark tendrils of energy began to writhe across the snow-covered ground, seeking to ensnare Selwyn. The man's sword sliced through the tendrils with ease, but they reformed instantly, relentless in their pursuit. Lucinda's magic was a subtle web of darkness, designed to confound and disorient her foe.
Selwyn's eyes flicked towards Lucinda, his gaze locked onto hers for a moment before he refocused on the battle at hand. He took advantage of the distraction to land a series of swift blows, cutting down half a dozen soldiers with precision and deadly efficiency. The survivors reformed their ranks, undeterred by their comrades' fall.
The battle raged on, the snow-covered ground slick with blood and magic. Lucinda's soldiers continued to press their attack, seeking to overwhelm Selwyn with sheer numbers. But the man was no slouch; his sword sliced through the soldiers with ease as he worked his way through the phalanx.
As the fight continued, the environment began to take a beating. Trees crashed to the ground, their limbs snapped by Selwyn's powerful attacks. The snow-covered rocks were scarred and battered, their once-pristine surface now smeared with blood and magic.
"Not enough," the girl grit her teeth.
Lucinda's magic grew stronger still, her powers amplifying as she drew energy from the surrounding environment. The air seemed to grow colder still, the wind picking up speed as she summoned forth a whirlwind of dark energy. The soldiers took advantage of the distraction to launch a fresh wave of attacks.
But Selwyn was prepared for them. He charged forward, his sword flashing in the pale light as he cut down soldier after soldier. His movements were swift and deadly, each strike precision-crafted to fell his foes.
As the battle raged on, Lucinda's magic began to take its toll on the environment. The snow-covered rocks began to crack and crumble, their surface scarred by the dark energy that seemed to writhe across them like living tendrils.
Despite being vastly outnumbered, Selwyn remained unfazed by the onslaught, and his breath was still controlled; he was not the least bit exhausted. Familial Arts: Seraphic Chorus, it was a spell designed for war. In the past, it was recorded that spawns of Octavia could bring forth entire legions. Feeding these soldiers mana further strengthened them, but her work was sloppy; she merely enhanced their physical prowess. She frowned at the scene before her.
His sword sliced through the soldiers with deadly precision, each blow designed to fell his foes with maximum efficiency. His movements were economical and precise, each strike calculated to devastating effect.
("This spell brings forth a Goddess elite followers, though I cannot use this spell to its full potential, however.") Her mana grew and enveloped the entire area. ("The longer these soldiers fight, the more power they generate, divine power that would be able to hurt even him!")
Lucinda's magic reached its peak intensity. The air seemed to warp erratically, the wind whipping up into a frenzy as she summoned forth a blast of dark energy. The soldiers took advantage of the distraction to launch one final wave of attacks.
But Selwyn was ready for them. With a swift and deadly motion, he cut down the remaining soldiers and turned towards Lucinda herself. His eyes locked onto hers for a moment before he spoke in a voice that was cold and detached.
"You're no match for me," he said simply before turning away. "You are weak, and that magic will do naught to help you."
Lucinda stood tall for a moment longer before her eyes dropped towards her fallen army. Her magic faltered for a moment before she summoned forth one final blast of dark energy that seemed to sweep away her defeated soldiers like leaves in a breeze.
The blast expanded rapidly, exceeding a range of 200 meters as everything in its path was eradicated. From any distance, all anyone would see was the enormous explosions that eradicated all. But eventually, it died down, leaving behind a large clearing in the landscape.
But she knew her magic had not reached Selwyn. He had simply left; his interest in her was no longer there. She was not even worth killing.
"Raaaaaaaaaaaaagh!!" She screamed into the air in anger and frustration. "Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!" She collapsed to the ground, her fist pounding against the ground. "Why are you so damn useless!? You're the spawn of Octavia! That's all you are!" Her teeth ground together, and she clenched a hand so hard she drew blood. "I-I'm sorry..." The apology fell on deaf ears.
It was, after all, directed to those who have departed already.
Cadeaux
-- Cadeau
reçu État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone