Chương 119: mystery at the top
At the battlefield's heart, amidst swirling dust and the distant clash of steel, Elders Kazreth, Osereth, and Ravessa stood with Threnix guarding them. They watched the unfolding drama, pleased that their layered attacks kept the Ember Circle fully engaged. Now, the stage awaited the final act: Lyrus, leader of the Ember Circle, advancing to meet them.
Lyrus approached calmly, without a large retinue. He carried only a staff and wore simple attire. Yet his presence radiated quiet power. He had long anticipated this moment—Elder against leader, cunning versus moral clarity. Behind Lyrus, at a safe distance, the generals and captains ensured the battlefield remained stable, allowing him to focus on the Elders.
Kazreth inclined his head slightly, voice serene: "You stand before the Triad of the Serpents, Lyrus. Our subtlety once held these lands in thrall, yet you challenged us. Are you prepared for the cost of a direct clash?"
Lyrus answered softly, "We both know endless deception yields no peace. This final meeting must shine truth on our conflict." He studied the Elders: Kazreth's jade mask, Osereth's scarred silver visage, Ravessa's veiled eyes. Each a keeper of secrets and old powers. He felt the Million Steps System resonate within him, offering subtle insights—no physical strength alone would triumph here. He must outlast their illusions, match their cunning with moral certainty.
Osereth rasped, "Your Circle stands firm, but can it endure the serpents' bite?" Ravessa tapped her staff thrice, a signal that might trigger hidden moves elsewhere. Lyrus remained unfazed, certain his allies would handle any shifting gambit.
Threnix, onyx-armored guardian, stepped forward to block Lyrus' path. His spear gleamed with viridian tint, a lethal artifact forged in secret. "You face not only clever minds," Threnix intoned, "but steel and fang." He lunged, testing Lyrus.
With a measured step, Lyrus sidestepped the thrust, guiding the spear's lethal tip into empty air. He responded without malice, a soft parry that revealed no weakness. Threnix's eyes narrowed, realizing this would not be a simple kill.
Behind them, distant cries marked captains dueling captains, clan leaders pitting their might and cunning against each other, generals contending in a chess-like struggle of formations. Here, at the apex, the Elders and Lyrus began their silent dance.
Neither side rushed. The final battle's core would unfold in measured exchanges, each seeking to unmask the other's vulnerabilities, each aware that this confrontation would decide the fate of all.
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