Chapter 16

"What?! Professor E-Estron?! It makes sense! I passed out after seeing him! He's the only one who told me that Thaddeus and The jester knew each other!" The realization hit Melanthius like a hammer. "And not only that…Auroria is in trouble…my people are in trouble…" He then saw Caius, Sera and Lumi being pushed back. "My family is in trouble…" His eyes closed and his consciousness began slipping away.

In the shadowy corners of Baba Yaga's house, Yaga roamed quietly, her fingers tracing the edges of an old painting. The image of Merlin, her most gifted and troubled student, stared back at her. She polished the frame gently, her expression softening with an old, hidden grief.

"My favorite student… It was fate that led your son to me," she murmured, her voice laced with bittersweet nostalgia. A single tear slid down her cheek and splashed onto the photo. "You died a villain. Tell me, Merlin… was it worth it?"

She took a deep breath, setting the photo back on her dresser with care. Her gaze lingered on it as though Merlin might respond from the canvas. "I kept your promise," she continued, her voice dropping to a whisper. "No one knows that your blood isn't the only one in his veins. You died for her… I can respect that. But I pray your son doesn't follow the same path."

A sigh escaped her as she sat down on the edge of her bed, her thoughts swirling. "Although I doubt it… Not with that hero complex of his." She chuckled to herself, rubbing her temple as if shaking off a memory. Then, a sudden sense of unease washed over her, something dark and foreboding.

Her head snapped up, eyes narrowing. "I feel something…" she muttered, standing to her feet. "My children… They're in trouble." Her tone shifted, the playfulness gone, replaced by an old, dangerous determination. "Let's go, Klaus."

The house groaned in response, its wooden frame creaking as it lifted itself on two massive legs. Baba Yaga's home, alive with ancient magic, began to march forward, carrying her toward the danger.

As Mel's vision dimmed and consciousness slipped from him, his heart twisted with guilt. The last thing he saw was Caius, Sera, and Lumi, struggling to hold their ground against the relentless knights. His friends—his family—were in danger. And it was all because of him. Because of who his father was.

A deep, boiling anger surged within him. After everything he'd been through, after everything he'd learned, he was still too weak. Too powerless to protect the people he loved. The bitterness gnawed at him, threatening to consume what little strength he had left.

But then, through the haze of pain and frustration, he felt it—something flickering deep inside. A familiar pulse, faint but unmistakable. The power of his father coursing through his veins. Yet there was something more. It wasn't just the ancient magic of Merlin—it was sharper, wilder, like a storm building inside him, ready to break free.

A surge of thunderous energy erupted through Mel's body, every nerve igniting with raw power. It wasn't just the legacy of Merlin coursing through him anymore—this was something new, something uniquely his. The storm that had been brewing within him now roared to life.

His eyes snapped open, glowing with a deep, smoky purple, threaded with streaks of black. The aura surrounding him crackled violently, pulsing with a mixture of purple and black lightning. He stood tall, his body humming with the untamed force of his power. His gaze locked onto Hawkins, Andrion, and Nicolas, who froze mid-battle, eyes widening in alarm as they turned to face him.

Lumi's face lit up with excitement. "I think we're about to see something awesome!" she exclaimed, barely able to contain herself.

Sera frowned, confused. "What?" she asked, not hearing Lumi..

Caius simply gave a slow, approving nod. He could sense it—Mel had just become something far more dangerous.

Nicolas, suddenly wary, hesitated before drawing his sword. Desperation clouded his judgment as he dashed at Mel with renewed determination. "One slice, that's all it'll take," he thought, convincing himself that victory was within reach.

But before his blade could make contact, Mel moved faster than Nicolas could comprehend. With a sudden blur of motion, Mel delivered a precise, hidden cloud kick, the force of it trailing not just a wisp of cloud but streaks of black lightning. The crackle of energy struck Nicolas with the weight of a storm, sending him flying back with a thunderous impact, his sword slipping from his hand as he tumbled across the battlefield.

Mel stood still, his eyes burning with a quiet fury. "Not today," he muttered under his breath, his power swirling violently around him, daring anyone else to step forward.

Andrion and Hawkins lunged at Mel simultaneously. With a swift motion, Mel caught Andrion by the face, his grip crackling with black lightning. Andrion's screams filled the air as the electric surge wracked his body, causing him to convulse in pain. Without a second thought, Mel hurled him to the ground like a discarded rag.

Hawkins, unfazed, watched his ally fall and flexed his muscles with a wicked grin. "Unlike those weaklings, I live for the fight." His body rippled, muscles hardening into armor-like toughness.

Mel's eyes narrowed, focusing his power. Black lightning enveloped his fist as he drove it into Hawkins' abdomen with earth-shattering force. Hawkins let out a violent cough, blood spraying from his mouth as he doubled over in agony, dropping to one knee.

Mel raised his leg, poised to deliver a crushing blow, his aura flaring with lethal intensity. But suddenly, his eyes flickered—purple and black fading to their normal color. He froze, a wave of nausea hitting him like a tidal wave. His body convulsed, and he vomited onto the ground, the strain of the power too much to bear. His knees buckled, and he collapsed, eyes red and bloodshot, struggling to maintain consciousness.

The battlefield fell eerily silent, Mel lying motionless as his strength drained away.

The three knights approached Mel's limp body, their chuckles thick with malice. Andrion's skin was charred and cracking, blood dripping from his mouth. Nicolas's face was caved in, a grotesque mockery of his usual arrogance. Hawkins clutched his abdomen, wincing in pain as his internal bleeding worsened.

"Chasing you down was the most fun I've ever had, kid," Nicolas rasped, blood staining his teeth as he grinned. "But now, it's time for you to die."

Lumi, sitting casually on the sidelines, glanced over at Sera. "Why aren't we jumping in?"

Sera sipped her drink, her expression unreadable. "I feel like something climactic is about to happen."

Caius, now a wolf, sat beside them, his eyes sharp as he huffed in agreement, his gaze never leaving the scene.

Just as the knights raised their weapons to deliver the final blow, a chilling, melodic voice echoed through the air—a woman's eerie chuckling, cutting through the tension.

"One, two, Baba Yaga's coming for you…"

The knights froze, eyes widening in shock as the haunting rhyme continued, the atmosphere thickening with a dark, ancient power.

"Three, four, better lock your door…"

The shadows around them deepened, swirling like ink as an ominous presence began to manifest. The air crackled, heavy with magic as the very ground beneath them trembled.

"Five, six, beware her tricks…"

A crooked silhouette loomed at the edge of the battlefield, impossibly tall and bathed in the glow of flickering candles from afar. Baba Yaga's house, Klaus, strode forward on its long legs, its creaking wood an echo of doom. The house moved like a creature stalking prey, and atop its roof stood Yaga herself, her eyes glowing with mischievous intent.

"Seven, eight, it's far too late…"

The knights stumbled back, panic creeping into their expressions. They hadn't anticipated this.

"Stay away! W-we can handle this!" Hawkins blustered, gripping his side in pain.

"Nine, ten… you'll never win…"

With a wicked grin, Yaga leapt down from the roof of her house, landing gracefully on the ground before them. Her presence radiated ancient power, making the knights feel as insignificant as ants under her gaze.

"Hello, boys," Baba Yaga's voice oozed menace as she approached. "I believe you were about to harm my nephew."

Nicolas snarled and charged, swinging his sword with full force. Yaga, unfazed, blocked it effortlessly with a simple kitchen ladle. He stared in disbelief.

"Really, a sword?" she sighed. "I'm far too old for this!" With a chuckle, she tapped his ankle with the ladle. "Such a strong man, yet you've got a dancer's legs." In a blink, she flipped him upside down, grabbing the back of his head. "Let's take a little ride, shall we?" She slammed his face into the wall, dragging it across the surface. "One for here!" Nicolas screamed in agony.

Then, with a wicked grin, she smashed his face again. "And one for down here!" Twisting him midair, she spun him like a ragdoll. "Don't forget the loop-de-loop!" With a final flourish, she slammed him into the ground with bone-shattering force.

Mel, groggy and struggling to stand, coughed. "Yaga! I need to go! My people… they're in danger!"

Yaga barely glanced at him, her gaze fixed on Andrion and Hawkins. "Just take Klaus," she called over her shoulder. As Hawkins lunged at her, she casually sidestepped, delivering a precise palm strike to his liver. He gasped, doubling over.

"Really?" Mel hesitated, looking toward the house. Klaus, the living house, lowered itself to the ground. Yaga waved dismissively. "Go on. I'll just kill you if he gets destroyed!" she added nonchalantly.

Mel scrambled onto Klaus, his eyes wide. "Wait, I stole something for you!" Yaga called out, tossing Merlin's wand.

He caught it mid-air, a grin breaking through his exhaustion. "Thanks! I'll come back for you all—my family!" Klaus bolted, carrying Mel away at breakneck speed.

Lumi crossed her arms, pouting. "You never let us drive Klaus…"

"Not now!" Yaga snapped, glaring at her before turning back to finish the fight.

In Auroria

In Auroria, the battlefield was grim. Atlanteans lay bloodied on the ground, the upperclassmen battered and bruised. Most of the schoolchildren had already been evacuated. King and Queen Aldara stood defiantly at the front lines with their knights, their eyes locked on The Jester, who grinned maniacally.

"Uncle, are you next to fight me?" The Jester's voice dripped with mockery, his laughter echoing in the chaos. Percival's glare burned with fury, but he shook his head.

"This isn't just about what happened a year ago," The jester began, his voice low and seething. "My rage comes from deeper wounds—my mother, beheaded, and my father who turned a blind eye to her suffering. My family was cursed, destroyed by the very people who should have protected us."

The Jester's grin twisted into a sneer. "Not just revenge for my mother. My rage is for more than that, Percival. My rage is for our entire bloodline. I'm the one who will avenge her—not just her, but the whole family that was torn apart by my so-called grandparents. The ones who killed her... your parents."

Estron pulled out an incredibly sharp card and hurled it at Percival with a snarl. "DIE!" he roared. But before the card could strike, it was deflected by a swift kick—though not from Melanthius.

"A real man never inflicts unnecessary violence," came a voice. Lance stepped forward, standing protectively in front of the king and queen, his leg now limping from the force of the kick. Despite the pain, he chuckled. "I didn't think we'd have people this bad at school."

Estron's expression remained cold and unreadable. "Who are you?" he asked, narrowing his eyes.

Lance smirked, his eyes gleaming with defiance. "I'm the protégé of Melanthius Shadowbane! And since he's dead now, I'll be the one to make you pay for your sins—the sins of hurting my kingdom!"

At Lance's words, a ripple of hope surged through the fallen people, a spark that reignited their will to fight. Estron—no, The Jester—dashed at Lance, but was caught off guard when Lance landed a punch with a hidden cloud technique. Estron blocked with ease, though, his smirk returning as he analyzed Lance.

"You're mimicking Melanthius's cloud martial arts. I heard he used it against Dorian. But you're different—no magic, no trail of cloud behind your attack. And more than that…" Estron tilted his head, studying Lance. "You're hurting yourself with every strike, aren't you? Go back to making ice cream, you twerp! You're nothing like what Melanthius could've done!"

Lance gritted his teeth, sweat beading down his forehead. In a flash, he jabbed Estron's eyes and flipped upside down behind him. "We Landthugs aren't just ice cream makers—we're acrobats too!" With a grunt, he delivered a hidden cloud punch to Estron's liver.

"I only have ten more… I can't keep this up," Lance thought, his body trembling from the strain. But before he could capitalize on the blow, Estron spun around and drove his elbow into Lance's back, sending him crashing to the ground.

"You actually jabbed my eyes, you little twerp!" Estron growled, his patience wearing thin as he towered over the fallen Lance.

Estron straightened, brushing off the dust from his clothes with a smug grin. "Is that it? Was that your ray of hope?" he mocked, his laughter cutting through the despair as the fallen looked down in defeat. But then, something unexpected happened.

"HURAAAAH!" Lance's voice erupted, and with a surge of defiance, he bounced to his feet. "WHO ARE YOU TO TELL ME I'M NOTHING?!"

Estron's smirk faltered as Lance's shout echoed across the battlefield. "I ADMIRE THAT MAN—WE ALL ADMIRE MELANTHIUS SHADOWBANE! BECAUSE HE WAS MORE REAL THAN ANYONE COULD EVER BE!"

At Lance's words, Elowen and Dorian, bloodied and bruised, struggled to rise, inspired by his fiery determination.

"I KNOW I'M WEAK!" Lance continued, his voice cracking with emotion. "BUT HE ONCE TOLD ME, 'IF YOU USE YOUR STRENGTH TO HURT OTHERS, YOU MIGHT AS WELL END YOURSELF NOW!' I'M NOT LOSING THIS FIGHT BECAUSE I'M TOO WEAK—I'M LOSING IT BECAUSE YOU'RE A BULLY!"

With a roar of fury, Lance unleashed a barrage of ten hidden cloud techniques. His fists were a blur, and though Estron managed to block some of them, several landed with devastating force, driving him back. Everyone watched in awe as Lance, the seemingly weakest of them all, landed blow after blow on the seasoned killer.

Estron's eyes widened in shock. This wasn't the outcome he had expected. For a moment, he gritted his teeth, feeling the sting of Lance's strikes. But the moment was short-lived. With a furious growl, Estron retaliated, slamming his fist into Lance's face with brutal force. Lance staggered, but before he could recover, Estron drove an elbow into his ribs, followed by a knee to his face, and then a final punch that caved him into the earth.

Lance lay still, bloodied and broken, but his defiant spirit still echoed in the air.

Estron panted, his breaths ragged, and spat on Lance's battered face. As he stood victorious, he suddenly realized Elowen and Dorian were no longer where they had fallen. Before he could react, Dorian surged at him, transforming into a swarm of bats mid-stride before materializing into human form once more. His fangs sank into Estron's neck, draining his strength. Estron snarled in pain, grabbing Dorian and slamming him violently to the ground.

In that moment, Elowen dove from above, her elbow crashing into Estron's face with brutal force. He barely flinched before pulling out a sharp card and stabbing it deep into her abdomen. Elowen coughed up blood, her lips curling into a smirk. Estron followed her gaze and realized too late—Dorian, now rejuvenated by the blood he had siphoned from him, was back on his feet. With newfound strength, Dorian drove a powerful punch into Estron's jaw. Estron retaliated immediately, their fists colliding in a thunderous exchange of blows.

"Fist of Camelot!" Elowen shouted, her voice ringing out through the chaos. Her fist glowed with energy as she drove it into Estron's side, lightning crackling from her strike. The shock reverberated through Estron's body, forcing a grunt of pain from him as the electrifying power surged into him, momentarily staggering the vicious jester.

Estron kicked Elowen and Dorian back with a brutal sweep, buying himself a moment to recover. "You'll never win!" he roared, his voice echoing with desperation as he tried to regain control. But then, the sound of wood creaking filled the air, ominous and foreboding. A massive shadow loomed over the battlefield.

"One, two, Melanthius is coming for you…"

Estron froze, his blood running cold as the eerie rhyme echoed through the air. The ground beneath his feet trembled slightly as if responding to an unseen force.

"Three, four, Klaus is at your door…"

The shadow grew larger, the unmistakable presence of something ancient and powerful approaching.

"Five, six, there's no need to fix…"

Estron's eyes darted around, panic beginning to creep in as he tried to locate the source of the voice.

"Seven, eight, too late to escape…"

The jester's bravado faltered, and the fallen warriors around him began to stir, hope flickering back into their eyes.

"Nine, ten… Melanthius Shadowbane is back again."

With a thunderous creak, Klaus, the towering, menacing house, appeared on the horizon, its massive legs pounding the earth with each step. Standing atop it was Melanthius, his eyes glowing with fierce resolve, his silhouette framed by the darkening sky.

Gasps filled the battlefield, quickly followed by a wave of cheers. The wounded, the hopeless, and even the battered warriors found new strength as they beheld their hero's return. Melanthius leapt down from Klaus with grace, his presence commanding the attention of every soul on the field.

Without a word, he walked over to Lance's limp body, kneeling beside the boy. His expression softened for a moment, a brief flicker of pain crossing his face. He then rose, surveying the battlefield—the battered upperclassmen, his fallen Atlantean comrades, and the bloodied forms of Elowen and Dorian.

Finally, Melanthius' gaze locked onto Estron, his eyes burning with purpose. The battlefield grew silent, the air thick with anticipation. This was the moment everyone had been waiting for—the showdown between Melanthius Shadowbane and the lost baby.

Estron smirked, though a flicker of doubt betrayed his confidence. Mel glanced at Dorian, giving him a familiar nod. "Draven, a little help here?" he asked, his tone teasing but urgent, a callback to their first day at school.

Draven chuckled weakly from where he lay, groaning. "Nah, wouldn't want to steal your thunder," he replied, knowing full well Mel was invoking an old memory.

Mel stepped forward, positioning himself between Elowen and Dorian, who stared in disbelief. "I know you've got questions," he said, his voice hard and determined. "But they'll have to wait. Right now, we're going to take down this bastard—because no one gets to break my moral code and walk away."

His eyes burned with fierce determination, and the weight of his words set the air around them ablaze with intensity.