Chapter 63: Chalu’s Journey (39)  

Aro Lupe, the magic teacher known for his unparalleled skill in both offensive and defensive combat magic, paced restlessly through the narrow streets of the kingdom. The sun was setting, casting long shadows across the cobblestone roads as Aro's thoughts raced.

"Where the hell did that bastard Colerio go?" he muttered under his breath, frustration evident in his voice. His eyes darted around, scanning every corner as if expecting to find the elusive fugitive hiding in plain sight.

Aro paused for a moment, considering his next move. "Perhaps he's hiding in his family's estate—the Sapher Manor," he mused aloud. "It's a possibility. After all, Ron Sapher, Colerio's younger brother, is the current lord of the household. That manor might be the safest place for him to seek refuge."

But doubt quickly clouded his thoughts. "Then again, knowing Colerio, he's the type to be unpredictable. Even with his family ties, who knows if he truly cares enough about his brother to risk being found there? That stoic face of his—he's always been impossible to read. Cold-hearted bastard."

Aro clenched his fists, torn between pursuing this lead and considering other options. The Sapher Manor seemed like a logical place to check, yet something nagged at him—Colerio was no fool, and walking into a trap was unlikely.

After a few moments of contemplation, Aro sighed and decided, "I should head back to the academy and report this to the other teachers. If we coordinate, we might be able to corner that bastard before he slips away again."

With that, Aro turned on his heel and briskly made his way back through the dimly lit streets, determined to rally his fellow instructors and end this chase once and for all.

............

Meanwhile, at the Main Camp of Eldoan

Rowena Lomius, a powerful and renowned mage, stood in her command tent, her sharp eyes fixed on a map sprawled across the desk. Her brows furrowed in frustration as she processed the latest report.

"What? That foolish disciple of mine healed, Grizz ....that beastfolk?!" Rowena snapped, her voice laced with disbelief.

Cevic, her loyal informant, stood at attention. "Yes, Ma'am. She did."

Rowena's fingers curled into a fist as she struggled to contain her anger. "Why would she heal a beastfolk? Those monsters have taken so many of our people—killed them without mercy. They don't deserve our kindness, let alone healing."

She clenched her jaw and fell into deep thought. To Rowena, beastfolk were unforgivable creatures, responsible for countless atrocities against her kind. The idea of showing them any form of compassion was something she couldn't tolerate, even from her own disciple.

Breaking her contemplative silence, Rowena looked back at Cevic. "Good job, Cevic. I want you to keep a close eye on my disciple. Report every move she makes—especially if she continues this nonsense."

Cevic saluted with precision. "Yes, Ma'am Rowena."

"Dismissed." Rowena said with a curt nod.

"Roger!" Cevic responded before briskly exiting the tent.

Alone once more, Rowena's eyes drifted back to the map. Her thoughts shifted from her disciple's actions to something much darker. Her gaze sharpened as she traced her fingers over the lines and symbols on the parchment.

"Where are you hiding, Athos?" she muttered under her breath, her tone seething with both anger and determination.

Athos, the calamity born from the first great disaster, was a monster that had escaped her grasp during their last encounter. Rowena's memories of that battle were etched into her mind—the terror, the destruction, and that power. The creature's presence still haunted her, and she vowed to end it once and for all.

As Rowena strategized her next move, her mind raced. She knew that finding Athos wouldn't be easy. The creature was cunning and had already evaded capture once. But she was determined to hunt it down, no matter the cost.

"This time, you won't escape." Rowena whispered to herself, her eyes burning with resolve.

The tent remained eerily silent as she planned her next steps, knowing that the confrontation with Athos was inevitable. But Rowena was not afraid. Her only focus now was to bring that monster to justice—and rid the world of its dark presence once and for all.

..............

Athos, now more monstrous and powerful than ever, surveyed the forest littered with the lifeless bodies of Eldoans and beastfolk alike. The remains lay scattered, a gruesome testament to his unrelenting hunger for power. With each corpse he consumed, his strength grew exponentially, his once grotesque appearance evolving into a form that radiated raw, terrifying energy.

Flexing his clawed hands, Athos could feel the immense surge of power coursing through his veins. "Finally," he muttered, a dark grin spreading across his twisted face. The strength he had gained was intoxicating—he felt unstoppable.

The one name that had been echoing in his mind for so long now surfaced fully: Rowena Lomius, the Eldoan mage who had thwarted his plans before. She was the one who dared to stand against him, and she would be the first to fall.

"Rowena… I'm coming for you!" Athos roared, his voice resonating through the forest like a battle cry. This time, there would be no escape, no victory for her. He relished the thought of crushing her, of finally ridding the world of her presence. The memory of their last encounter still festered in his mind—a moment when she had driven him back, forcing him into retreat. That humiliation had fueled his hatred, and now, he was ready to repay her in kind.

But Rowena wasn't his only target.

Athos' expression darkened further as he ran his fingers over the scar that marred his chest—a wound inflicted by Chalu, the warrior who had managed to land a decisive blow during their previous clash. The wound had resisted every attempt to heal, a constant reminder of the warrior who had dared to defy him.

"Chalu…" Athos hissed under his breath. "You'll pay for this. I'll make sure of it."

The pain from the unhealed wound was a constant, gnawing presence, a source of rage that fueled his determination. But as much as he hungered for vengeance against Chalu, Athos knew that Rowena was the key. She was the greatest threat, the beacon of hope for those who resisted him. Her death would break the spirit of her people, leaving them leaderless and demoralized.

First Rowena, then Chalu—this was the order of his vengeance.

Athos turned his gaze toward the horizon, his eyes narrowing with malevolent intent. The Eldoan mage had no idea what was coming. He would shatter her, break her, and with her fall, everything she stood for would crumble.

"Rowena Lomius… your time is up."

Determined and filled with the resolve to kill, Athos began his march toward his destiny. The hunt had begun, and he was ready to plunge the world into darkness once more.

.............

[Joe POV]

I watch them from up here—the world of Eldan—like a movie I can't switch off. It's a mess down there. People are dying in the most horrific ways, crying out for someone to save them. But there's no one coming. And I just have to sit here and watch it all unfold.

"This is complete bullshit!" I can't help but curse to myself.

The worst part? I'm supposed to be this all-powerful god, yet I can't do a damn thing to change their fate. It's set in stone, written in some cosmic script that even I can't mess with.

Why must it be like this? The hopelessness gnaws at me, a bitter reminder of the limitations even I must endure. It's messed up right?. Though I created this world, I set everything in motion, I'm still bound by these unbreakable rules. I can see what's happening, I can feel their suffering, but I can't reach out and stop it. Fate's like that—brutal, unchangeable, and it doesn't give a damn about what I want. Even gods have their limits, I guess.

But I'm not completely useless.

There is one thing a god can do: If I cannot change fate, then I can give someone the strength to fight back. That's why I picked Chalu. Through my avatar, Roe, I've been training him, pushing him harder than anyone's been pushed before. He's got the potential to stand up to Athos and turn the tide, but he's not there yet. I need to make sure he's ready before it's too late.

Athos isn't waiting around, either. He's getting stronger every day, feeding off every poor soul he comes across. Meanwhile, this world is teetering on the edge of total destruction. But I'm betting everything on Chalu. If he can rise above, if he can tap into the strength I'm pouring into him, then maybe—just maybe—there's a chance to rewrite what seems inevitable.

Time's running out, though. I need to get back down there, back into my avatar, and keep pushing him. We're in a race against fate itself, and if we lose, it's game over for everyone. But I'm not giving up. I refuse to just sit back and watch everything burn. Chalu's going to be the one to break the cycle—because I'll make damn sure he's ready to do it.

...............

Ash Minse, once the beloved martial arts teacher known for his bright smiles and encouraging words, now stood before his students like a twisted shadow of his former self. The warmth that had once defined him was replaced by a chilling aura, his cheerful demeanor morphed into something cruel and monstrous. His usually kind eyes were filled with a dark gleam as he gazed down at the terrified students of Magux Academy, who now lay helpless at his feet.

Con, a student with short hair and wide, tear-filled eyes, clung desperately to Ash's legs. The boy's voice trembled with fear as he pleaded for his life, his words barely coherent through the sobs. "Teacher, please… don't kill me. Please, please, please… I don't want to die." Con whimpered, his hands shaking as he gripped Ash's pants, hoping against hope that his teacher might show him mercy.

Around them, the scene was nightmarish. Con's classmates—once full of life, laughter, and dreams—were now lifeless bodies strewn across the academy floor. The air was thick with the scent of blood and the echo of their last agonizing cries. Their eyes, frozen in expressions of terror, reflected the same dread Con felt as he looked up at the man who had once been his mentor.

Ash's lips curled into a sickening grin as he stared down at Con. "So sad," he mocked, his tone dripping with false pity. But the glint in his eyes told the truth—he relished the fear, the hopelessness, the despair. His grin widened unnervingly as he added, "But I can't let you go, Con. Lord Athos needs your vitality. It's nothing personal… just business." His voice was icy, each word a dagger to Con's heart.

"NO!! PLEASE, TEACHER, NO!!" Con screamed, his voice cracking as panic overwhelmed him. The boy's grip tightened as if holding on to Ash could somehow save him, as if there was still a sliver of the old Ash buried deep within.

But there was no mercy in Ash's eyes. With a cold, detached expression, he lifted his hand, dark magic swirling around it. His fingers elongated and sharpened into a blade of pure darkness. Con's sobs grew louder, his cries desperate, pleading for a miracle that would never come.

"Goodbye, Con." Ash whispered with a sinister smile before slashing downward in one swift, brutal motion.

The blade of darkness cut cleanly through Con's neck. Blood sprayed as his head fell, his lifeless eyes still wide with terror. His body slumped to the ground, his final plea echoing faintly in the ears of the few surviving students.

A chorus of anguished cries filled the room as the remaining students witnessed the brutal execution. Some screamed, some wept uncontrollably, while others were paralyzed with fear, unable to process the horror unfolding before them. They had come to Magux Academy to learn and grow, to become mages and warriors, never imagining they'd be slaughtered by the very man they once admired.

Ash turned his gaze toward the surviving students, his smile never fading. "Now, who's next?" he taunted, his voice laced with malevolent glee.

The surviving students recoiled, trembling as they clung to each other in a futile attempt at comfort. They knew they were trapped, and the terror of being picked off one by one was almost too much to bear.

Ash's grin widened as he relished their despair. He took a step forward, savoring the fear in their eyes. "I suppose it's time for another lesson." he said darkly, raising his blade once more.

In that moment, hope died in the hearts of the students, leaving only a crushing sense of dread. The academy that once stood as a beacon of knowledge and growth was now a slaughterhouse, with Ash Minse, their once-beloved teacher, as the butcher.

To be continue