Chapter 71: Chalu’s Journey (47)  

The battlefield crackled with energy as Rowena Lomius, the strongest mage of the Eldoan, stood face-to-face with Athos. The air was thick with tension, and every breath felt like it carried the weight of life and death. Rowena's aura flared as she prepared to unleash another spell, but Athos' mocking smile sent a chill down her spine.

Athos grinned, his teeth sharp like a predator's. "I should eat you now, Rowena Lomius." he hissed, his voice a blend of malice and amusement, as if the idea of consuming her was more of a game than a threat.

Rowena's eyes narrowed, her heart pounding, but she refused to show weakness. "Monster! I am Rowena Lomius! I am the strongest!!" Her voice was a battle cry, echoing across the battlefield. She summoned all her magic, the ground trembling beneath her feet as flames and lightning crackled in the sky above.

Every knight and mage fighting under her banner raised their weapons, their voices joining in a chorus of loyalty. "Protect Master Rowena!!" they shouted, charging forward with unwavering resolve, swords drawn, and spells ready to strike.

But Athos merely laughed. It was a deep, menacing sound that cut through their courage like a blade. "Fools!!" he bellowed, raising his hand. Dark tendrils of energy shot out from him like vipers, snaring the charging warriors in mid-air. With a flick of his wrist, they were hurled back, crashing into the ground with bone-breaking force.

Rowena's heart dropped. "No, don't go!!!" she screamed, her voice filled with desperation. She reached out with her magic, trying to protect them, but it was too late. The knights and mages lay scattered, motionless, some still writhing in pain.

Meanwhile, Cevic, engaged in battle with Ash, turned his head briefly, witnessing the chaos. His fists tightened with fury. But Ash had no intentions of letting him have a moment's peace.

Ash was as cruel as he was powerful, and the smirk on his face only deepened as he summoned something from the shadows.

"How about we finish this little fight of ours?" Ash taunted, his eyes gleaming with dark excitement. With a wave of his hand, bones began to assemble, forming into the skeletal figure of a once-powerful Eldoan. As the final pieces clicked into place, the skeletal figure stood before Cevic, cloaked in dark magic—an undead lich.

Cevic's eyes widened in horror as he recognized the figure. The lich wasn't just any reanimated corpse. It was someone he knew. "Shen…? No..." His voice cracked, disbelief and grief filling his words. Teacher Shen Mort had been one of the most respected alchemists in Eldoan, a mentor to many, including Cevic. And now, he was nothing more than a puppet, a plaything under Ash's control.

Ash's grin widened as he watched Cevic's reaction. "Oh, this? I just made him my pet. Isn't he lovely?" His laughter rang out, cold and cruel, as if the desecration of a great man's body was nothing more than a twisted joke to him.

"You monster!" Cevic screamed, his heart filling with a mix of rage and sorrow. His fists clenched, and raw magical energy surged around him as he charged toward Ash, ignoring the pain in his heart. The battle had become personal, and Cevic was ready to do whatever it took to free his friend from Ash's grasp—even if it meant destroying the corrupted remains of Shen Mort himself.

But Ash was ready. He flicked his wrist, and the lich lunged at Cevic, its bony claws extended. Cevic dodged the initial strike, but the sight of his old friend, now a twisted, undead creature, shook him to the core. He couldn't let this abomination continue. With a roar, Cevic unleashed a torrent of fire and wind magic, aiming to purify the lich with a spell that Shen had once taught him.

As the flames engulfed the lich, Cevic whispered, "I'm sorry, my friend. I will free you from this torment." The battle for his friend's soul had begun.

Ash's sinister laugh echoed across the battlefield, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "You really think your lowly magic can kill a lich?" he taunted, his voice dripping with contempt.

Cevic's heart sank. His face twisted with disbelief. "What...?" His voice faltered as doubt crept in. He had always known his magic wasn't on par with the strongest mages, but he had never let that stop him. Instead, he had excelled in strategy, a talent that often outmatched sheer magical power in battle. And Shen Mort—his mentor—had taught him many things, including a blend of alchemy and swordsmanship that allowed him to amplify his magical abilities through his blade.

He gripped his sword tighter, its edges glowing with a faint magical light. Cevic had always trusted this approach, believed that even with his limited magical talent, he could still make a difference. But seeing Shen's lich form regenerate so effortlessly after his strongest spell shook him to his core.

"What do you mean, you bastard? I already—"

Before Cevic could finish, the lich—Shen Mort—began to stir. Dark, necrotic energy swirled around the skeleton's body as it reformed completely, the damage Cevic had inflicted disappearing in an instant. The undead stood tall once more, unscathed and looming over Cevic like a shadow of his failure.

Cevic's eyes widened in horror. "What?!"

Ash smirked, his eyes gleaming with sadistic pleasure. "You're no match for Shen Mort now," he said mockingly. "He's not your old friend anymore. He's a lich—immortal, unstoppable, and loyal to me."

Cevic's mind raced, trying to find a solution, but the reality of the situation pressed down on him. His strongest spell hadn't even scratched the lich. Could he really defeat it? Could he really fight against the twisted remains of his mentor and a friend?

The lich raised its hand, dark energy swirling around it, preparing for another attack. Cevic took a step back, gripping his sword tighter, the weight of despair crushing down on him. He had to think. He had to fight. But how?

Ash, seeing the fear in Cevic's eyes, laughed again, his voice dripping with malice. "This is the end for you, Cevic. How does it feel to know that all your efforts, all your training—everything—was worthless?"

Just as the words left his lips, a sudden gust of wind swept across the battlefield. Out of nowhere, a figure appeared, standing between Cevic and Ash. The atmosphere shifted, and for a moment, even Ash's confidence wavered.

"You... you are a beastfolk!" Ash snarled, unable to hide his shock. He hadn't expected anyone—let alone someone from the beastfolk—to intervene.

Standing before them was Kenjo, a member of the revered Turtle Clan, and a master swordsman known across the kingdom for his legendary skill. His reputation for slicing through anything with his blade was unmatched, and he was said to be one of the greatest warriors alive.

Cevic, still catching his breath from the earlier encounter with the lich, looked at Kenjo in disbelief. "Why would a beastfolk like you be here?" he asked, his voice laced with suspicion. The centuries-long war between the Eldoans and beastfolk had left deep scars, and trust between their races was virtually non-existent.

Kenjo stood calm and unshaken, his hand resting on the hilt of his katana, a blade that had earned its reputation for cutting through anything, be it steel, magic, or even the strongest defenses. The sight of Kenjo alone was enough to send a wave of unease across the battlefield, but Ash wasn't ready to back down.

Kenjo turned his head slightly, his deep voice steady and calm. "I'm Kenjo, and there's no time for your quarrel. Our enemy is him." His eyes flickered toward Ash, who still wore a mocking grin.

Cevic's mind raced. The name "Kenjo" rang familiar—he had heard of him, a vassal to the lord of the beastfolk, a legendary swordsman feared and respected by all. Cevic's suspicion flared. "Kenjo... wait, why would a vassal of the beastfolk be here?" he questioned, wariness clear in his voice.

Kenjo's gaze remained fixed on Ash. "I'm here for personal reasons," he replied. "But when I stumbled upon this battlefield and saw the slaughter, I knew I couldn't stand by and watch. That's why..." He slowly drew his katana, the blade gleaming with a deadly, ethereal light. "I will kill him."

Cevic blinked in surprise. "What...?" He had expected anything but this. A beastfolk, a sworn enemy of Eldoans, stepping in to fight alongside them?

Ash sneered, his voice filled with contempt as he stepped forward. "Fool! You should be serving us! Your blood is that of Aurathos—the blood of the first calamity! My master is Aurathos' son, Athos!" He stretched his hand towards Kenjo, as if beckoning him to join their dark cause. "You should embrace your destiny, your bloodline. It's in your veins!"

Kenjo's grip on his sword tightened as his eyes flashed with a deep, simmering rage. His voice was low but carried the weight of centuries of suffering. "You think I care about that cursed bloodline?" His gaze met Ash's, sharp and unyielding. "We have been fighting for millennium against the Eldoans because of the madness that Aurathos caused. I will not allow that curse to define us any longer."

With a swift, practiced motion, Kenjo drew his katana, the blade humming with magical energy. "If you think you can control me because of some ancient blood, you're gravely mistaken. The only thing I serve is my own honor, and I will cut down anyone who threatens the peace I seek to protect."

Ash's eyes narrowed, but his confidence didn't waver. "Then you'll die alongside them." He gestured to the lich, Shen Mort, to attack.

But Kenjo was faster. With one fluid motion, he surged forward, his katana slicing through the air. The sound of steel meeting the undead's necrotic flesh echoed, and Shen Mort staggered back, his form destabilized for the first time.

Cevic stood frozen, watching in awe as Kenjo's precise strikes cut through the lich with ease. The power and speed of his movements were unmatched, far beyond anything Cevic had ever seen.

Ash growled, his confidence cracking. "You dare defy the bloodline of Aurathos? You'll regret this, Kenjo!"

But Kenjo, unwavering, stood firm, his katana gleaming in the fading light. "Let me make one thing clear," Kenjo said, his voice like steel. "I fight for no one but my people, and I will end this cursed bloodline once and for all."

Ash snarled, and the battle resumed, but now, with Kenjo on the field, the tide had turned. The war between bloodlines, between fate and choice, was just beginning.

......

Rowena stood tall, her breath steady, her eyes locked on Athos. Around her lay the fallen, their lifeless bodies a testament to the destruction Athos had unleashed upon the battlefield. Her heart ached for them, but her resolve was stronger now than ever. She would end this.

"Athos!" Rowena's voice echoed with fury, cutting through the thick tension in the air.

Athos, towering over her, merely chuckled darkly, his voice dripping with arrogance. "Rowena, this is your predetermined fate. You will die by my hands, and when I absorb your essence, I will ascend to my rightful place as king. You will merely be a part of my destiny."

Rowena clenched her fist around her staff, She had one chance—one final move that her ancestors had passed down. Without hesitation, she pulled the orb from her pocket, its cold glow illuminating the battlefield.

"This will seal you!" Rowena declared, her voice steady despite the storm of emotions swirling within her.

Athos watched her with amusement. "Hoh... then be my guest. Try to seal me, Rowena Lomius."

Ignoring his mocking tone, Rowena raised the orb high, and with determination, began chanting an ancient incantation passed down through the Lomius bloodline:

"By the frost of the eternal ice,

By the bloom of night's gentle light,

Lactum Freeze, hear my call,

Encapsulate, bind, and enthrall."

Her voice grew louder, filled with the power of her ancestors as she continued:

"In the name of those who have fallen,

With love and strength, I am calling.

Lactum Freeze, arise and shine,

A guardian spell, by my design!"

The orb pulsed with a brilliant light, and Athos, sensing the danger, narrowed his eyes. His arrogance faded as he felt a shift in the atmosphere.

"What is this?" Athos growled, suspicion creeping into his voice.

Rowena smirked, her eyes gleaming with confidence. "Lactum Freeze!"

With that, the orb exploded with power, and a surge of freezing energy shot towards Athos. The air around him chilled instantly as the spell took hold. For the first time, a flicker of genuine concern crossed Athos's face. Sensing the imminent danger, he acted swiftly, tearing off his own arm and hurling it away from his body.

The frozen magic encapsulated Athos, freezing his legs, torso, and remaining arm. Ice crawled up his body, rendering him motionless except for the detached arm that lay at a distance, unaffected by the spell.

Trapped in the grip of the spell, Athos roared in frustration, his voice filled with rage. "Rowena Lomius, what have you done? What is this accursed spell?"

Rowena stood firm, her smirk widening as she faced the beast who had tormented so many. "This," she said, her voice steady, "was created by the mother of magic herself—my ancestor, Belz Lomius!"

Athos's eyes widened with recognition. "That bitch, Belz..." he spat, his voice a mixture of fury and shock. Memories flooded back of Belz Lomius, the woman who, a thousand years ago, had been instrumental in slaying his father, Aurathos, the first calamity.

"You know her, don't you?" Rowena's voice was taunting now, filled with the same pride her ancestors had carried. "She's one of the people who killed Aurathos, and now, with her power, I will seal you too."

Athos growled, his frozen form trembling under the weight of the magic. "You won't succeed, Rowena. I will break free... I will be king... and you will be nothing but a memory."

Rowena's gaze hardened, her grip tightening around the orb that still radiated cold magic. "We'll see, Athos. This time, the Lomius name will finish what it started."

To be continue