Bab 176: Chapter 175
[Third Person's PoV]
Shadow watched the carnage unfold below him with a satisfied smile, the moonlight casting an eerie glow on his face. "They've all grown stronger…" he muttered to himself, his voice filled with pride.
His eyes scanned the battlefield, catching sight of Elisabeth and Mary, who were weaving through the chaos with deadly precision. Blood spattered across the icy landscape as they cut down their enemies with a gruesome efficiency that brought a twisted smile to his lips.
Elisabeth, standing tall amidst the chaos, held out her hand and beckoned to the blood spilling from the gaping wounds of her foes. The crimson liquid, thick and steaming in the cold night air, slithered toward her like a living serpent, pooling around her feet before rising into the air.
With a flick of her wrist, she shaped the blood into deadly javelins, their surfaces gleaming with a macabre sheen. The Ice Elves, their blue-skinned bodies glistening with frost, tried desperately to counter with their icy arrows.
The air filled with the sound of clashing elements as blood and ice met in a violent explosion, splattering the battlefield with gore. Yet, Elisabeth's blood javelins were relentless. The moment they shattered, they reformed, and with a shrill whistle, they hurtled through the air once more, impaling the Elves where they stood.
The sickening sound of flesh tearing and bones breaking echoed through the night as bodies were pinned to the ground, limbs twitching in the throes of death.
Nearby, Mary was a whirlwind of death, her blade carving through the ranks of orcs and ogres with savage elegance. The blood of her victims sprayed across the battlefield, staining the snow, which came about with the Frost Monarch appearance, crimson.
With each slash, she sent arcs of blood flying through the air, sharp as razors. The orcs bellowed in agony as their limbs were severed, the warm gush of blood pouring from their wounds as they collapsed to the ground, writhing in pain. Mary moved like a specter, darting between their massive forms, her blade singing as it sliced through flesh and bone.
She leaped onto the back of a roaring ogre, her feet barely touching the ground, before driving her sword through its skull, the wet crunch of bone and brain matter resonating in the air. The ogre's massive body fell with a thunderous crash, its blood pooling around Mary's boots as she stood atop its corpse.
Elisabeth, her face a mask of concentration, siphoned the blood from the fallen, her power drawing the crimson fluid into the air. The blood swirled around her, forming a swirling vortex of death. With two fingers raised to her face, Elisabeth began to condense the blood, its surface shimmering with dark energy.
The ball of blood glowed an eerie green, the heat radiating from it intense enough to make the air shimmer. The blood, infused with magic, pulsated with a malevolent energy as Elisabeth guided it with delicate movements. When it was ready, she twisted her wrist, and the glowing orb shot downward like a comet.
The beam of blood carved through the battlefield, a blazing trail of destruction that disintegrated everything in its path. Monsters were sliced in half, their bodies splitting with a wet, meaty sound as the beam passed through them.
Blood and entrails splattered the ground, mingling with the dirt and snow to create a grotesque landscape. Weapons shattered upon impact, their metal warping and melting under the sheer heat and force of the blood magic. The earth itself was cleaved apart, a deep trench forming in the wake of the deadly beam.
Yukime moved like a specter across the battlefield, her graceful form a blur of speed and precision. Beside her, her mother—now a Shadow Soldier—fought with equal ferocity, the two fox women moving as one, their every motion synchronized in a deadly dance. The battlefield was a maelstrom of violence and chaos, but within it, Yukime and her mother were an unstoppable force.
Ahead of them, a towering Minotaur, its eyes burning with rage, charged forward with a bellowing roar. The ground trembled beneath its hooves, but Yukihime was faster. With a swift leap, she seized the Minotaur by its massive arms, her claws digging deep into its flesh. The beast howled in pain and fury, its muscles bulging as it struggled to break free, but Yukihime's grip was unyielding. With a savage snarl, she yanked its limbs apart, holding the beast in place as its blood spurted from the wounds, staining her claws red.
Yukime, her expression cold and focused, leaped into the air, her fan glinting in the moonlight. In one fluid motion, she slashed through the Minotaur's thick neck, her fan cutting through flesh and bone like it was nothing. The beast's head tumbled from its shoulders, spinning through the air before landing with a dull thud on the blood-soaked ground. A geyser of dark blood erupted from the stump of its neck, splattering Yukime's pale face as she landed gracefully beside her mother. The Minotaur's massive body collapsed, its lifeless form quivering as it bled out.
But the fight was far from over. A pack of werewolves, their snarling faces twisted with bloodlust, came charging toward them, their claws gleaming like daggers in the dim light. Yukime and Yukihime exchanged a brief glance, a silent understanding passing between them. They moved together, their movements a blur of speed and precision as they tore into the werewolves with a vengeance.
Yukime ducked under a savage swipe from one of the beasts, her fan flicking out to slash its throat open. Blood sprayed in an arc, and before the werewolf could even register the pain, Yukime had plunged her hand into its chest, her fingers closing around its still-beating heart. With a vicious tug, she ripped the heart free, the werewolf's eyes going wide with shock before it crumpled to the ground, lifeless. Beside her, Yukihime was a whirlwind of death, her claws rending flesh and bone as she tore through the pack. The werewolves barely had time to react before their heads were sent flying, severed cleanly from their bodies in a fountain of blood.
As the last werewolf fell, its heart torn from its chest, the battlefield fell eerily silent for a brief moment. Yukime and Yukihime stood amidst the carnage, their fur matted with blood, their eyes gleaming with a cold, predatory light. But the silence was soon broken by a new sound—a low, guttural growl as the bodies of the fallen monsters began to twitch and stir.
Yukime smiled darkly as the corpses of the Minotaur and werewolves slowly rose to their feet, their eyes now glowing with an ominous black light. The shadows twisted and writhed around their bodies, transforming them into Shadow Soldiers, their once fierce visages now devoid of any emotion, loyal only to Shadow Monarch.
With a silent command, the newly risen Shadow Soldiers turned on their former allies, tearing into the ranks of the remaining monsters with a ferocity that matched the living. The battlefield was soon a scene of utter destruction, the Shadow Soldiers ripping apart flesh and snapping bones with ruthless efficiency. Blood and gore splattered across the ground, mixing with the shadows that churned and pulsed like a living entity.
High above the blood-soaked battlefield, Beatrix danced through the air with deadly grace, her form a blur as she executed her maneuvers with flawless precision. The night sky was her domain, and she moved through it with a fluidity that defied gravity. Each step she took seemed to send her rocketing forward, her movements a seamless blend of Geppo and Soru, causing her figure to flicker and vanish from sight in the blink of an eye.
Griffins and monstrous avians that dared to challenge her met a swift and brutal end. Beatrix's sword glowed with a fierce white light, crackling with magical energy as she cleaved through her enemies. Feathers and flesh were torn apart as her blade sliced cleanly through the winged beasts, sending them spiraling to the ground in bloody heaps. The air was thick with the stench of blood and the dying cries of monsters, but Beatrix's smile only grew wider, her eyes gleaming with fierce joy.
As she fought, her mind briefly reflected on the techniques that had made her so formidable. "These Martial Art Techniques Lord Shadow created sure are useful," she mused, her voice carried away by the wind. "As expected from the man, Alpha chose to be her husband." The thought of her lord's ingenuity and strength filled her with pride, and she channeled that pride into every strike.
Her muscles tensed, gathering strength as she prepared her next attack. With a powerful swing of her sword, she unleashed a devastating crescent of compressed air. The sheer force of the attack, combined with the magic empowering both her body and her weapon, sent the crescent hurtling through the sky with terrifying speed. It carved through the air, a glowing arc of destruction that tore apart everything in its path.
A half-woman, half-bird monster shrieked as the deadly crescent closed in on her. Her twisted beak was just beginning to open, preparing to unleash a screeching attack of her own, when the air blade struck. The monster's cry was abruptly silenced as her body was split in two, the blood and innards raining down in a gruesome shower. The sheer force of Beatrix's strike ripped through her without mercy, disintegrating her as if she were made of paper.
Beatrix watched the creature's remains fall with satisfaction, blood splattering across her armor and skin, staining the air around her with a crimson mist. The sky, once the monster's domain, now belonged solely to her, and she reveled in the feeling of power and superiority that came with it. With a quick burst of Geppo, she propelled herself higher, scanning the skies for more foes to cut down. Her sword pulsed with energy, eager for more blood, and Beatrix was more than happy to oblige.
The battle raged below her, but in the sky, Beatrix was an unstoppable force. Each swing of her sword, each movement of her body, was a deadly combination of strength, speed, and magic. The monsters that dared to face her were reduced to nothing but carcasses, falling from the sky in pieces, their blood painting the battlefield below in a gruesome tribute to her skill.
'Now that Alpha is pregnant, I wonder would I still be known as Aunt, or grandaunt? I wonder if they already came up with a name for my grandniece or grandnephew? Would they even like me?' She silently mused to herself as her face remained passive.
Shadow observed the fierce battle between Rose and Mordred with a keen, calculating gaze. The clash of their swords sent sparks flying, illuminating the darkened battlefield as their blades met with a resounding crash. The air around them crackled with tension, their auras clashing like two storms colliding, each vying for dominance.
As they fought, Alexia and Sherry circled around them, their swords flashing as they cut down any monster foolish enough to approach. Their movements were precise, each strike delivering death to their enemies, ensuring that Rose and Mordred could focus solely on each other.
Mordred gritted his teeth, frustration gnawing at him as his invisible sword met resistance again and again. "How are you able to find my sword? It's invisible, isn't it?" he demanded, his voice edged with disbelief. No one had ever been able to match him in combat when his blade was hidden from view, yet here was Rose, meeting his every strike with unwavering precision.
Rose's golden dragon eyes glowed fiercely, her gaze locked onto Mordred with an intensity that made him uneasy. "What do you think?" she replied, her voice cold and resolute. She didn't need to explain herself. The power surging through her was more than enough of an answer.
A radiant golden aura enveloped Rose, shimmering like molten gold as it flared brighter and hotter with each passing moment. Her sword, already blazing with fire, grew more intense, the flames licking hungrily at the air as they burned with the fury of a dragon's breath. The heat was palpable, waves of it radiating off her weapon as she channeled more and more of her power into it, her resolve unshakable.
Mordred's eyes narrowed, wariness creeping into his expression. "Those eyes… Just what are you?" he asked, suspicion lacing his tone. There was something different about Rose, something beyond the human realm. The sheer power she wielded, the way she could see through his most potent illusions—it defied explanation.
Rose held her sword in front of her in a dignified stance, her expression regal and commanding. "I am Rose Oriana, the Princess and Future Queen of this Kingdom," she declared, her voice ringing with authority and conviction. "You occultist bastards dared to defile my kingdom, to challenge its sovereignty. You will pay for your transgressions."
Her dragon eyes flashed, the golden light within them blazing with a righteous fury that sent a shiver down Mordred's spine. The air around her seemed to vibrate with power, her presence growing ever more formidable as she prepared to unleash her wrath upon him.
Mordred sneered, though there was a hint of uncertainty in his voice as he scoffed, "You're just a deluded little princess. You should have stayed in your lane. This matter is far bigger than you."
With that, his body was enveloped in a dark wine-colored aura, the manifestation of his mana surging around him like a swirling storm. The aura pulsed and crackled, dark tendrils of energy reaching out as if to consume everything in its path. It was a grotesque display of power, one that matched his twisted ambitions and the dark magic he had aligned himself with.
But Rose remained unfazed. She tightened her grip on her sword, the flames intensifying until they roared like an inferno, casting long shadows across the battlefield. Her golden aura blazed brighter, pushing back against the darkness of Mordred's mana, the clash of their energies creating a visible divide in the air.
With a powerful swing, Rose unleashed a torrent of flame, her sword cutting through the air with a searing heat that left scorch marks in its wake. Mordred barely managed to raise his sword in time, the invisible blade catching the brunt of the attack, but even then, he was forced to stagger back, the force of the blow overwhelming him.
The ground beneath them cracked and splintered, unable to withstand the sheer power of their clash. The battlefield itself seemed to quake under the intensity of their duel, the very air trembling with the weight of their auras.
Mordred's confidence began to waver, his wine-colored aura flickering as Rose's power continued to grow, her determination fueling the flames that surrounded her. This was no ordinary princess; she was a force of nature, a dragon in human form, and she would not rest until she had brought him and his dark allies to justice for messing with her kingdom.
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Status Power Mingguan
-- Peringkat
Power 
-- Power
stone