Echoes Of Promise

Arthur's words landed like a thunderclap, reverberating through the hall and stunning everyone into silence. It wasn't just what he said—it was the audacity behind it, the unyielding conviction in his voice.

Arthur Nightingale, the most prodigious talent of his generation, was still a boy. He hadn't yet come of age, let alone scaled the Wall to reach Ascendant-rank. On the other hand, Alyssara Velcroix was a force of nature—a mid Radiant-ranker, the Cult Leader of the Red Chalice, and the one who had driven Selene Kagu to retreat. The gulf between their strengths was not merely wide; it was a chasm that spanned mountains.

The air thickened with tension as murmurs began to ripple through the crowd. A single question was etched on every face: would Alyssara retaliate? Though she had made a mana oath of non-violence, her power was undeniable. Even with Leopold Astoria present, a Radiant-rank clash would obliterate everyone in the vicinity. The few Immortal-rankers in the hall might survive, but no one else would.

Yet the tension broke—not with the crack of battle, but with Alyssara's laughter.

It was a rich, melodic sound, startling in its warmth and genuineness. There was no malice in it, no sinister undertone, only amusement so raw it defied the charged atmosphere.

"You never fail to surprise me, Nightingale," Alyssara said, wiping an errant tear of mirth from the corner of her eye. Her jade-green gaze softened, though the gleam of dangerous delight remained.

"If you truly wish to reach me," she continued, her voice lilting and teasing, "then sharpen your sword. Sharpen it until it can sever my threads, until it can pierce my heart."

Her words hung in the air, both a challenge and an invitation, before she smiled—a smile that promised she would be waiting at the pinnacle of power, for when he finally dared to meet her there.

"I will," Arthur promised, his gaze meeting hers with unwavering conviction. The intensity in his eyes caught Alyssara off guard, sending an unexpected ripple of excitement through her. 

'He reminds me so much of my Arthur,' she mused, her lips curving into a smile. 'But he's his own person—different, sharper, and just as fascinating.'

"Well," she said lightly, tilting her head as if to defuse the moment, "this makes it all worthwhile." Her smile grew as she added, almost teasingly, "Even worth dressing up like this."

She spun on her heels, the crimson folds of her dress flaring dramatically as though she were painting the air with her presence. Then, as if the very fabric of existence bent to her whims, the space around her began to ripple and warp.

Before disappearing completely, Alyssara turned her head just slightly, infusing her voice with mana so it reached Arthur's ears alone.

"I'll miss you, Arthur," her words echoed, soft yet heavy with an almost painful intimacy.

Arthur's expression tightened as he exhaled, the fleeting sentiment hanging in the air long after she was gone.

Alyssara reappeared within the grand, shadow-drenched halls of the Red Chalice cult's headquarters. The familiar crimson threads that adorned the walls seemed dull compared to the vibrant glow of her presence. She stood there, momentarily quiet, her playful demeanor giving way to a pensive stillness.

Her original plan had been to discard the cult entirely, to break free from its clutches and the expectations that bound her to its machinations. But now, she saw its utility.

"For now," she murmured to herself, her jade-green eyes gleaming with a mixture of calculation and mischief, "it's a convenient tool. Better to wield power than squander it."

After all, being the Cult Leader wasn't just a title—it was an identity that granted her immense influence. Alyssara knew full well that a rogue creature, no matter how powerful, could never command the same level of respect or fear. Not yet.

Her lips twitched into a sly smile as her thoughts drifted back to Arthur. "But for how long will even this cult remain useful?" she wondered aloud, crimson threads coiling lazily around her fingers. 

Well, it didn't matter to her anyway.

Alyssara had already set her sights on the next step toward her goal: reaching peak Radiant-rank.

She placed her palm against the cold, unyielding surface of the wall before her. Threads of both mana and black mana seeped into the stone, their currents intertwining like a forbidden dance. With a deep exhale, Alyssara closed her eyes, focusing as the intricate defensive spell array unraveled under her touch.

This wasn't just any spell array. It was a masterpiece crafted from the blood of numerous 9-star beasts, an ancient safeguard left by the founder of the Red Chalice cult. The effort required to bypass it was monumental, but Alyssara's skill far outstripped the protections of a bygone era.

Finally, the air before her shimmered and twisted. A rift in space-time appeared, glowing faintly like a wound in reality itself. Without hesitation, she stepped through.

The world shifted around her, and she emerged into a sprawling, labyrinthine library. Red light spilled across the gleaming glass and ancient tomes, casting elongated shadows that seemed to flicker and move like living things.

Alyssara paused, her jade-green eyes scanning the chamber. It was different from how she remembered from when she was a child. Sleeker. Modernized. 

"Did they renovate this?" she muttered to herself, her voice laced with faint amusement. But she quickly shook the thought away.

Now wasn't the time to admire—or lament—the changes. 

It was time to get to work.

__________________________________________________________________________________

Back at the banquet, as Alyssara vanished into the ether, the room collectively exhaled, the tension dissipating like a storm retreating to the horizon.

"What was that about?" Rachel murmured, her grip tightening around my arm.

I didn't answer immediately. My thoughts were a tangled mess. Alyssara's behavior wasn't random—there was history here, a thread that tied her to Art in ways I couldn't fully understand. Yet, the more I tried to unravel it, the more it resisted, like a knot deliberately tightened by time and circumstance.

Her love was warped, fractured—a broken mirror reflecting something obsessive and unnatural. Of course, her upbringing explained part of it. Alyssara had never known a life without manipulation or darkness. But still, I couldn't help but feel frustrated.

Why had Art let her fall in love with him? Why had he approached her with the gall of someone saying, 'I can fix her,' when he clearly couldn't?

Maybe I was being unfair since I didn't know what truly happened. Maybe the bitterness in my heart was clouding my judgment. But it didn't change the reality we were facing.

The Alyssara Velcroix who had just stood before us wasn't the same person from the stories. She had changed—transformed into something far more dangerous.

"She's evolved," Luna's voice rang in my mind, her tone devoid of its usual lightness. "Yes, biologically. She's ascended beyond what she was before."

I frowned at the thought, my mind piecing together the implications. "How far?" I asked her.

"High Radiant-rank," Luna confirmed, and the weight of her words hit me like a blow. "She's surpassed Julius at his peak."

Julius. The name alone was a measure of power, a mid Radiant-rank who once stood as a pillar of strength. And yet, Alyssara had surpassed him.

This was no longer just a dangerous enemy. This was a calamity in human form, something on par with one of the seven Demon Lords.

The difference? The Demon Lords were far removed, threats relegated to distant realms and the pages of grim warnings.

Alyssara, on the other hand, was here. Walking among us. Smiling, laughing, and toying with the world as if it were hers to shape.

Alyssara's strength was staggering, a towering reality that loomed too large to even contemplate defeating at my current level. The sheer enormity of the gap between us was almost suffocating, so I did the sensible thing: I stopped dwelling on it.

There were more immediate battles to fight, more attainable goals to reach. My path was clear—I needed to scale the Wall and achieve Ascendant-rank. That was the next step, the next rung on the endless ladder of power.

The banquet wound down soon enough, the lingering tension dissipating as the guests filtered away, their whispers trailing in Alyssara's wake. I left not long after, returning to Avalon with my thoughts locked firmly on what lay ahead.

For now, the towering shadow of Alyssara would remain in the distance. My focus had to stay here, on the climb directly in front of me.