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Prismatic Sovereign's Legacy

'Survive...Anasthasia' Keeps on repeating her mind. She found herself in the unknown future, will she be able to handle the tough adventure? WPC Gold Tier winner: Am I Too Strong? Anasthasia, the last known Prismatic Legatee, discerned the legacy as nothing but a curse. She came a long way until she built her empire, the Prismatic Empire. But things went far worse as she got caught from the flames of war. After a decade of war, Anasthasia, the empress of one of the prominent empires and the strongest human ever recorded in the known history of this world, found herself in a dire situation. Clinging to the one sliver of hope, Anasthasia soon trapped herself in eternal ice, but when the ice broke down, she found herself in an unknown place and era. Anasthasia torn between her cursed legacy and the future of humanity; whatever the case, she must make her decision. =======================================This is a long-term project of mine that would last up to 7 volumes. The first volume would be around 220 chapters. Please expect for the rest of the volumes. Have fun! Thank you so much Emperor Sgui Sgui for the cover! As always, its very beautiful! If you want to know more, please reach out to her, (turtleboiii#4991) in discord!

Magical · Fantasía
Sin suficientes valoraciones
215 Chs

Allegiance Of Wallace

'I remember this, even on his fresh wounds, have dried scars engraved on his radiant skin forever.'

Anasthasia, ignoring his qualms, went down on her knees and fingers scooped near teaspoonful of the mossy ooze. Wallace's cyan eyes flared, mortified, from her actions.

"You shall not touch—" His mouth let out a deep grunt.

"You're critically injured; might as well calm down." She let out a deep sigh. Her fingertips glided over his deep gash, and his ever-quivering body had flinched from her touches. His muscles relaxed as she got the hang of it.

"You... don't have to do this, mortal. I'm—angel myself, so I—recover by then..."

"My name isn't mortal; it's Anasthasia." She jammed her hands in her pocket and retrieved a rolled white fabric. "Aren't your powers clipped now that your wings ripped down to four—?"

Anasthasia met his cold gaze, gulping so hard from the lump on her throat.

She crossed the line.

"I'm sorry. I'll treat you now; please be patient." She went to continue when he clicked his tongue.

His eyebrows furrowed further. "I was punished and ostracized—though I don't think... I'd want to be with them. Those hypocrites…"

"Aren't you one with them?"

"Unlike them, I don't—gather my main source of power… with... bunch of pious and crazy worshippers…" From gritted teeth, he seethed in anger.

"Angels are good and give graces for their believers."

"It's—facade... to get them; in return, however, all they do—sneer and mock behind their backs...Such arrogance—"

"Calm down. You hold so much anger in your heart."

"—Hate them; I want to destroy them..." The quiver in his voice was apparent.

Anasthasia remained silent, no disputes from his deep-rooted hatred.

Soon, the scene played afore them distanced several miles away and engulfed in the darkness. Everyone was stunned and couldn't react as they turned their backs, and another bright light flashed.

Squinting eyes didn't suffice; arms covered barely held a significant effect, which they only waited for the brightness to subside.

They all broke free when they heard loud explosions crashed nearby. Liam, out of instinct, grabbed Lucy close to him as she shrieked. From above, a gigantic sphere of devouring flames struck them inevitably.

Anasthasia swiftly moved and raised her hand as she cast for a reversible action spell sequence. The flames shrank at a visible rate, imploding, and gave off a popping sound—like a playful pop of the tongue.

"Run!" she howled.

More and more flames descended into the fray amidst the broad daylight and the ocean skies. At the peak of the towering rocks that viewed the sea, their sprints accelerated as they head down. She turned back and reached her arms toward them as she cast a spell to her bidding.

'Stability!'

Their feet aglow from every stride they took with heavy crunches among the grasslands. Moving relatively farther, although not safe, to say the least, they glanced at the disaster, and a sense of bewilderment shook their core.

A flock of birds revolving around a large piece of land—akin to an empire landscape—afloat midair, and Anasthasia shuddered from the nostalgia, striking her gut.

"Freid! We need to get a closer look up there!"

They all looked at her with skepticism. Freidmirth snout contorted in irritation.

"Why… What for?"

"If you don't want to, then I might as well go! You rot in here—!" Soon another batch of flames rained down their proximity, and with Anasthasia, they heaved a sigh of relief.

"Revert me!" he snarled. "In fact, stop switching me—I'm disoriented!"

Anasthasia nodded, and he was back to his majestic self. With them perched on top of him, he beat his wings and soared amidst the capricious. She caught up to them, and she cast another for them to fade themselves into the background.

Upon closer look, they saw a woman, in a mint minidress, remained afloat opposite the giant landmass. Her brown hair unbridled in the air, fluttering, the same way her dress. Only her limbs moved in subtlety. Blake and Michael sucked in cold breaths when they heard her ultrasonic voice.

Calls after calls had sent a rain of spells from either side—most notably the fire and lightning spells—no mercy razing the angels, of different ranks, from her whims. Most of the landmass's defenses deflected her accurate projectiles of gigantic spells. Worse comes to worst; they required sacrifices as they took the hit.

Seeing it first-hand, Blake croaked, "The path of the invoker…"

The men on board gaped at him with horror and astoundment. Fear continued to stiffen their spine as more and more spells rained down, and their ears heralded the deathly cries of long-dead angels. Their falls from the sky eventually turned into particles of light.

"No way…" Michael's eyes rattled as he said in disbelief, "That's… Tasha right there?"

"I presume so." Blake squinted his eyes, which his affirmation brought forth doom that loomed their hearts. They took a glimpse of her nothing but a long face, and eyes clouded with sorrow.

"So, Sister Ana will teach—"

"So-so, Lucy." She lowered her head as she clutched her chest. "Though, I may have the representation, Blake. But I'm not close to the likes of them, do you forget already?"

"No! I dare not! Of course, I know your true power! Just by hearing those ultrasonic calls!"

Lucy, who always sat forefront, snapped back and queried, "I can't hear exactly; what is it?"

"Calculations… I hear numbers and logical conditions of magical sequence—" Michael's eyes widened, which startled them. But it didn't take long for them to realize who she was.

Levi noticed his glasses almost fell off his nose bridge, having him affixed it. "You mean…"

Their hairs stand on its ends from the thought of it, and Blake, no matter how many times he reminded himself, it was ever the same.

"Those fall under the ancient magicians' category, and few, closer to none, could perfect it other than you, Miss Ana."

"Let's go closer, Freid! I'm pretty sure I'm compelled to believe this nothing but in retrospection of his view." She bit her lower lip as she mumbled, "...Where is Wallace again?"

"Over there!" Lucy chirped out as she pointed.

"Lucy, we need to cover your eyes." Liam pleaded while he gestured as they drew close to the epic scene. Lucy never retorted and let him do his thing.

There, they saw Wallace swing his mighty sword, sending in a flurry of attacks towards the enemy ranks. One after another, the abundant morning stars dwindled. He spread his wings and blew a strong gale; as their formations ruined, there he launched once more—an excellent provision of his impetus of slaughtering his kin.

Wallace, for sure, wasn't alone. After all, he got her back and destroyed them in one fell swoop the moment they popped out.

Anasthasia glanced at him, even from afar; his grin went ear to ear as his eyes darkened red and went out for blood.

'I knew he was this hellbent when it comes to his hatred… I could only—' Her eyes shut as she could no longer bear to see the outcome.

The next thing they knew, the scene drifted away and welcomed the abyss. Somehow, they grabbed a glimpse of this phenomenal experience of perceiving things as though they peered at the lens of the grand scheme of events.

They all found themselves back on the grasslands, similar to how they appeared in the first place; however, they watched the piece of landmass burned like a shooting star.

The descent was slow, melodramatic—enough for them saw how Wallace stood stalwart. He beamed at Anasthasia, who tucked her hands on the back.

"Do you feel much better now?"

Wallace was despondent, saying nearly a bland tone, "Yes..." Then he stared at her golden eyes. It was screaming, something that would make sense out of him. "I did it. I don't regret what I did, but… Why do I feel so empty?"

"It's for you to find it out yourself, Wallace. I helped you, as promised, and here we are." She turned around and glanced at the aftermath. From the place, they stood to bear the greener pastures flipped differently from the other: austere and desolate.

He clicked his tongue, but as the spectators, they couldn't help but take a medicine that was too hard to swallow.

"In the end, you stayed and held onto the bargain. I'm eternally grateful." Wallace said.

'I see, since then, his eyes told me so...' Anasthasia's heart fluttered.

Michael was quick enough to move in front of Lucy as he suddenly held his sword and aimed from his back. They gasped, overwhelmed, and petrified in their steads.

He cut his wings from that fair slice and chunky sound. Anasthasia turned around only to see him went down to kneel, with his body quivering, and reached out his torn wings and laid it on his cupped hands.

"...I present this to you, and I, Wallace Raguel, shall swear my absolute loyalty…"

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