章 73: Unforeseen path part 2
The next day, the Frontier soldiers gathered outside the tavern, escorting sturdy horses laden with supplies. The animals snorted and pawed at the ground as the soldiers patted them farewell. One soldier, a wiry young man with a determined look, jogged back inside, carrying a polished shotgun pistol.
"Bors!" the soldier called, his voice filled with respect. "I want you to have this. It's reliable and packs a punch. Thought you might need it."
Bors gave a gruff nod, accepting the gift and examining it briefly. "Thanks, kid. I'll make sure it gets good use."
Nearby, Theron stood silently, watching the exchange. Her expression was unreadable, her mind distant as she contemplated the mission ahead. She gripped her blade's hilt tightly, her resolve steeling.
Once ready, the squad convened outside. Don, a seasoned mage, prepared to open a portal. His staff glowed with an eerie light as ancient runes formed a swirling vortex, revealing the hellish landscape of the Shadow Realm.
"Remember the plan," Bors said firmly, his gaze sweeping over the team. "No unnecessary risks. We take out their defenses, locate the dark elf king's bastion, and finish the job. Stick together."
With a collective nod, the squad entered the portal, stepping into a realm of crimson skies, jagged black terrain, and rivers of molten lava. They moved cautiously through the oppressive heat, the air thick with ash and the faint, haunting echoes of the damned.
Ahead lay the bastion, a fortress of obsidian spires and glowing runes. Guarding its gates was a small army of dark elves, their glowing violet eyes and dark armor reflecting the fiery environment.
Without hesitation, the battle began.
Arrows streaked through the air, mages hurled fire and ice, and the clash of steel rang out.
Theron darted through the fray, her twin blades slicing through dark elf soldiers like a whirlwind. Her strikes were precise, severing limbs and piercing vital organs. One soldier lunged at her with a spear, only to have his throat slit in one fluid motion.
Bors stood as a juggernaut amidst the chaos, his massive two-handed axe cleaving through enemies in wide arcs. Blood sprayed as he bisected one dark elf and crushed another under the weight of his weapon.
Don, meanwhile, wielded his magic with devastating effect. Lightning arced from his staff, electrocuting a group of dark elves who screamed as their armor melted into their flesh. He conjured walls of fire to block reinforcements, giving the team room to breathe.
The dark elf general emerged from the bastion, a towering figure clad in ornate black armor etched with glowing red runes. He wielded twin scimitars, each blade wreathed in black flame.
"Your intrusion ends here," the general bellowed, his voice echoing with an unnatural resonance.
Bors stepped forward, hefting his axe. "Let's see about that."
The general moved with supernatural speed, his blades a blur as he attacked Bors. Sparks flew as Bors parried with his axe, the impact reverberating through his arms. The general's strikes were relentless, forcing Bors to retreat step by step.
But Bors was no amateur. With a roar, he countered, his axe cleaving downward in a powerful strike that shattered the ground. The general dodged, but not before the edge of the axe clipped his armor, leaving a deep gash.
The duel raged on, each combatant trading blows that sent shockwaves through the battlefield. The general landed a strike on Bors's shoulder, the black flames scorching his armor and flesh. Bors gritted his teeth, ignoring the pain as he swung his axe in a wide arc, forcing the general back.
Theron, seeing an opening, moved to assist, but Bors shouted, "Stay back! This one's mine!"
Bors feinted a low strike, then pivoted to bring his axe down in a crushing overhead blow. The general raised his scimitars to block, but the force of the strike shattered one blade and drove the axe deep into his chest.
The general staggered, blood pouring from his mouth as Bors twisted the axe. With a final heave, Bors tore the weapon free, splitting the general in half.
The battlefield fell silent as the remaining dark elves fled in terror, their morale shattered.
As the dust settled, Bors leaned heavily on his axe, blood dripping from his wounds. Don approached, using magic to stabilize him.
Theron stood over the carnage, her face grim. "The king will know we're coming now," she said.
"Let him know," Bors growled. "He'll know what's coming for him."
Theron walked ahead through the charred gates of the dark elf bastion, her katana drawn, its blade glinting under the blood-red sky. The air was thick with ash and the acrid stench of death. Her face was cold, focused, and devoid of any mercy.
Inside the bastion, dark elf soldiers rushed to meet her. The first group lunged at her with spears and swords, but Theron moved like a phantom, her katana slicing through flesh and bone effortlessly.
She spun, her blade carving an arc that severed limbs and sent heads rolling. Blood sprayed across the stone walls as one soldier collapsed, clutching at his disemboweled stomach while another gurgled on his own blood, his throat slashed open.
A dark elf archer fired a volley of arrows from a high perch, but Theron dashed forward, scaling the wall with inhuman agility. She reached the archer in seconds, driving her katana through his chest and pinning him to the wall. His dying screams echoed as she ripped the blade free, sending him tumbling to the ground below.
Theron entered the castle's grand hall, a sprawling chamber filled with reinforcements. Dark elves poured in from every side, their eyes glowing with hatred, their weapons gleaming.
She smiled coldly. "Come then."
The first wave charged, but she danced through them with brutal efficiency. Her katana became an extension of her will, severing arms and legs, cleaving torsos, and decapitating heads in single strokes.
One soldier tried to grapple her, but she grabbed his arm, twisted it until the bone snapped with a sickening crunch, and drove her katana through his heart. She used his collapsing body as a shield against a hail of arrows before hurling him at his comrades, sending them sprawling.
The dark elves began to falter, their attacks more desperate as they saw her ruthlessness. She rammed her blade into one soldier's gut, twisting it violently before pulling upward, splitting him in two. Another tried to run, but she hurled a dagger that lodged in the back of his neck, dropping him instantly.
The floor became a river of blood, littered with dismembered limbs and lifeless bodies.
Theron entered the throne room, where the dark elf elite guard awaited. Clad in obsidian armor, they were the king's most trusted warriors.
They formed a defensive line, their spears leveled. She charged head-on, her katana a blur. The first spear thrust grazed her cheek, but she ducked and drove her blade into the attacker's stomach, cutting him in half with a single upward slash.
Another elite swung a massive axe, aiming for her head. She sidestepped, slashing his Achilles tendon. As he fell, screaming, she drove her blade through the back of his skull.
A final guard lunged with twin daggers. Theron parried with lightning speed, her katana shattering one dagger before slashing his throat. Blood sprayed as he collapsed, clutching at his gushing neck.
The throne room was silent now, save for the sound of blood dripping from her katana. Bodies lay strewn about, their faces frozen in terror.
Theron stood amidst the carnage, her chest heaving as she surveyed her work. She wiped her blade clean on a fallen soldier's cloak and turned toward the king's chamber.
Her voice was cold, almost a whisper. "Your time is up, dark elf king."
With that, she pushed open the massive doors, ready to face her target.
Theron narrowed her eyes, gripping her bloodied katana tightly. Her gaze flickered between the fleeing dark elf king and the imposing figure before her.
"You must be the dragon," she said, her voice steady but laced with annoyance. "Out of my way. I have no quarrel with you... yet."
Lucian remained silent, his face emotionless as he lowered his hand from his eyes. Bright arcs of electricity danced across his irises, crackling and sparking as they surged outward, wrapping his body in a terrifying aura of raw power. His sword hummed with energy, its edge glowing faintly.
"Fine. If that's how you want it."
Lucian raised his sword in response, pointing it directly at her, his stance unwavering. Without a word, he leaned forward, preparing to charge.
The tension in the air was palpable, the room buzzing with the electric hum of his power. Theron adjusted her stance, ready to clash with this deadly opponent.
Lucian's movements were a blur of lightning and fury as the fight began evenly. Theron, skilled and relentless, parried his attacks, her katana sparking against his blade. But as the duel pressed on, his power became overwhelming.
Without warning, Lucian hurled his sword toward her. Theron deflected it with her katana, but before she could regain her footing, he summoned twin blades into his hands.
The air seemed to crackle with tension as he vanished, reappearing to her left and slashing. She barely managed to block, only for him to teleport behind her, slashing again. His strikes came from all directions—front, back, sides, above—each blow faster than the last. Blood sprayed as her defenses faltered, her body unable to keep up with his onslaught.
Lucian's expression remained cold and detached as he slammed his palm into her chest, sending her skidding backward across the stone floor. She struggled to rise, blood trickling down her face, but he gave her no reprieve.
Grabbing her by the hair, he lifted her effortlessly and smashed her face into the ground. The impact cracked the stone beneath them, leaving a crimson smear as he dragged her across the floor toward the wall. Her cries of pain were muffled as her face scraped against the jagged surface, leaving trails of blood.
With a guttural growl, Lucian threw her into the air like a ragdoll. She twisted, trying to regain control, but he teleported above her, his swords glowing with electricity. With a single, devastating punch, he drove her back to the ground with such force that the floor cratered upon impact.
Theron's body lay motionless in the center of the destruction, broken and bloodied. Lucian landed gracefully a few feet away, his twin swords dissipating into crackles of energy. He stared down at her with an indifferent gaze, the glow of his electric eyes casting shadows across his face.
The once-fearsome assassin lay defeated, her life ebbing away as Lucian turned silently, his mission complete.
Theron, battered and broken, forced herself to stand, her legs trembling beneath her. Blood dripped from her wounds as she staggered forward, her katana dragging along the ground. Her breaths were ragged, her gaze unwavering despite the agony.
Lucian turned to face her, his expression unreadable. He said nothing as she took one shaky step after another, refusing to give in.
As she raised her blade, he moved with lightning speed, plunging one of his swords into her chest. The blade pierced through her body, the shock of the strike freezing her in place. Blood poured from the wound as her katana slipped from her grasp, clattering to the ground.
Lucian stepped back, withdrawing the blade, and watched as she collapsed to her knees. Theron's eyes met his one last time before the light faded from them. Her body fell lifelessly to the ground, and Lucian turned without a word.
He began walking toward the fleeing dark elf king, his focus solely on his mission. However, his instincts flared as he sensed a powerful killing intent.
Turning his head slightly, he caught sight of Bors, soaring through the air, his massive two-handed axe raised high.
The clash was instant and thunderous as Lucian raised his swords to block the strike. Sparks flew as the weapons collided, but Lucian's raw power overwhelmed the axe, knocking it aside and leaving Bors vulnerable.
Lucian pressed the attack, his strikes relentless. Bors managed to dodge and parry a few blows, but his axe was ultimately sent flying from his hands, clanging loudly against the stone floor.
Lucian stepped forward, his blade poised for the killing blow as Bors stood firm, despite the odds stacked against him.
The deadly silence that followed hung in the air, thick with tension, as the confrontation reached its boiling point.
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