Chapter 11

I posted the images of MC, priest, Lyria, saya, Cyrus, Atesso, and Izel in chapter 1 , 2 and 7 in paragraph comments

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FIVE MINUTES EARLIER

OUTSIDE THE TEMPLE

Under the shroud of night, three shadowy figures stood upon the rooftop of a wooden house opposite the grand temple. They were Cyrus, Atesso, and Izel, concealed beneath black hoods and masks, poised to launch their audacious attack.

As their eyes fell upon the temple grounds, they were met with the imposing sight of over thirty guards patrolling the area. Atesso, ever impulsive, voiced the pressing question on their minds. "So, how should we attack, Cyrus?"

Cyrus, with a demeanor of utmost seriousness, responded, "You two will initiate a frontal assault. I'll approach from behind."

Izel cast an inquisitive gaze at Cyrus. "Are you planning a sneak attack?"

Cyrus shook his head, and his countenance grew stern. "No, this time, a full-fledged assault is our best course of action. We need to draw as much attention as possible."

Silver light radiated from his hands, gradually transforming into a magnificent regal bow with a shimmering blue hue adorned with intricate golden and silver filigree patterns. Seeing his weapon materialize, both Atesso and Izel readied themselves. Atesso equipped two black gauntlets that surrounded his forearms, clenched his fists, and commented with enthusiasm, "Finally, it's action time."

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Izel locked onto his target with a gaze of determination, his arms emanating a brilliant gray light. In his hands appeared a pair of exquisitely crafted silver daggers, adorned with intricate red detailing, reflecting ancient influences. His weapons were a sight to behold, and he couldn't resist a chuckle at Atesso's envious grumbling.

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Atesso sighed, glancing over at Izel's gleaming daggers. "Huh, what's so great about beautiful weapons." he muttered, keeping his voice low as not to distract Izel from his concentration.

Izel grinned, knowing Atesso was just a step behind, always eager to catch up. "Don't be like that. When you reach the knight realm, you too will get something."

Cyrus intervened, bringing an end to their banter. "Enough joking around. Let's begin." With a synchronized nod, Atesso and Izel leaped from the building, their figures disappearing in the shadows.

Atesso, using his gauntlets, unleashed a torrent of forceful punches upon the guards. Each strike propelled them backward, sending them tumbling more than ten feet. He exhibited raw power, seeking to incapacitate rather than kill. Izel, on the other hand, moved with precision and grace, wielding his daggers as he darted between the guards. His attacks were focused on their vulnerable points, non-lethal but disorienting. Within the first two minutes of their assault, five guards had already fallen.

Meanwhile, Cyrus, the strategist of the group, had embarked on a different path. He rushed toward the temple's rear, his sipver aura enveloping his body. The aura coalesced at the tip of an arrow as he continued his relentless sprint. Finally, at the rear entrance of the temple, he aimed his arrow at the door.

With remarkable concentration, Cyrus released the arrow, causing a dramatic explosion. The temple's door shattered into a storm of splinters, and parts of the walls surrounding it crumbled under the explosive force.

The explosion from the blown door still echoed through the temple's corridors as Cyrus rushed in, determined to reach his objective. The sudden commotion had alerted the guards inside the temple, and six of them quickly assembled to confront the intruder.

Swords and spears were drawn as the guards formed a semi-circle, their expressions resolute. The first guard lunged at Cyrus with a sword, aiming for a quick strike. But Cyrus, with his agility honed through years of training, swiftly ducked beneath the blade's arc. In one fluid motion, he delivered a powerful punch with his bow to the guard behind the first attacker, rendering him unconscious.

The guard who had initiated the attack with the sword spun around to assess the situation. To his dismay, Cyrus was already upon him. With a fierce kick to the face, Cyrus incapacitated him as well, and the guard crumpled to the ground.

As the remaining guards regrouped, one of them, more skilled than the others, nocked an arrow to his bow and released it, sending it hurtling toward Cyrus. But Cyrus's training had sharpened his reflexes, and he sidestepped the incoming arrow with ease.

With a cold determination, Cyrus readied his bow, summoning a shimmering arrow made of pure energy. He unleashed it upon the remaining three guards with startling precision. The arrow struck its targets squarely, and the explosion that followed sent them flying in different directions.

Gasping for breath, the last remaining guard trembled in the aftermath of the encounter. Cyrus, his silver aura still glowing, closed in on the shaken guard and fixed him with a steely gaze. He uttered in a voice filled with resolve, "Which way is the priest's chamber?"

The guard, overwhelmed by fear, stammered out a response, pointing down the corridor. Cyrus nodded in acknowledgment, showing no mercy as he continued on his path toward the heart of the temple, where the final confrontation awaited.

PRESENTLY, IN THE PRIEST'S CHAMBER

As Lyria advanced towards the priest, her determination to end this once and for all was palpable. She had seen enough manipulation caused by the priest, and now she had her chance to stop it. The priest, however, understood the peril he was in. His panic intensified as he attempted to harness his energy, but the injuries from Lyria's previous strike had taken their toll, rendering his efforts futile.

With a cold and calculated tone, Lyria addressed him, "Are you trying to channel your energy, priest? It appears the blows you received have damaged your body."

Before she could deliver the final blow, the door to the chamber abruptly swung open, and Saya entered in a state of sheer panic. She managed to stammer, "Priest, there was a big explosion just n—"

But her words trailed off, and her eyes locked onto the scene before her. The priest, typically the symbol of authority and power, knelt before Lyria, blood trickling from the corners of his mouth. The walls of the chamber displayed ominous cracks, evidence of the devastating force that had been unleashed.

Seeing this unthinkable sight, Saya's disbelief turned to frantic anger as she shouted at Lyria, "What are you doing?"

Saya rushed toward them, her intention clear—to protect the priest who had orchestrated this sinister arrangement. She was determined to shield him from any harm. As Lyria's attention momentarily shifted to Saya's abrupt entrance, the priest seized the opportunity.

In an act of desperate cunning, the priest summoned his last vestiges of strength and telekinetically grasped a piece of rubble from the cracked walls. Lyria sensed the incoming attack and skillfully dodged the projectile with a graceful leap to the side.

But before she could react further, the priest used the distraction to enact a sinister plan. He moved with remarkable speed and crossed the distance between himself and Saya. With unexpected strength, he heaved Saya toward Lyria, using her as a human shield to cover his escape.

Lyria's instincts kicked in, and she skillfully maneuvered to protect Saya from harm, allowing the priest to make his getaway. The two women collided as the priest's escape route remained open. In the end, the priest had displayed a resourcefulness that caught Lyria off guard, vanishing into the temple, leaving Lyria and Saya to grapple with the tumultuous turn of events.

In the frenzied moments after the priest's escape, Lyria's first instinct was to give chase. However, Saya stood resolute, blocking her path with a determination that Lyria found infuriating. She demanded, "Didn't you see what he just did? He doesn't care about your well-being. Move aside."

Saya shook her head, her eyes filled with anger and blame. She retorted, "This happened because of you. If you hadn't appeared, everything would have ended peacefully. You, you ruined everything. IT'S ALL BECAUSE OF YOU!"

Fueled by anger and despair, Saya lunged at Lyria, her intention clear: she wanted to engage in combat. But just as their clash seemed inevitable, it was Cyrus who intervened. He appeared from behind, stepping into the room and assessing the chaotic situation with a sense of exasperation. He glanced at Saya, who lay unconscious on the ground, and muttered, "She's gone crazy."

Lyria, still grappling with the tumultuous turn of events, could only nod helplessly at Cyrus. She then inquired, "Did you see the priest on the way?"

Cyrus shook his head, his thoughts racing as he said, "No, I didn't see him."

Lyria's gaze hardened with determination as she contemplated their next move. She uttered, "Then he must have gone to the temple's treasury room. Let's go."

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As the fierce battle outside the temple concluded, Atesso, his breath ragged from the intense combat, took a moment to catch his breath. He wiped the sweat from his brow, his exhaustion evident. On the other side, Izel, with his daggers cleaned and a composed demeanor, seemed untouched by the fight, displaying a remarkable level of control and skill.

Atesso's breathing gradually returned to normal, indicating that he had regained his strength. Izel, observing his recovery, suggested, "Come, let's go inside."

In the treasury room, the priest, who had managed to escape the chamber, frantically checked his surroundings. His thoughts raced as he wondered why everything was unraveling. He couldn't understand why they had attacked, questioning if they were affiliated with other organizations. He muttered to himself, "Why is this happening? Everything was going smoothly. Why now? Why did they choose to attack this small city?"

Amid his anxious thoughts, the priest found a vial and swiftly consumed its contents, hoping to regain his strength.

Just as the priest was recovering, Lyria and Cyrus entered the treasury room. With determination in her eyes, Lyria rushed toward the priest, who confronted her with a question: "You're from the organization?"

Lyria's silence was deafening in the chamber as her unwavering intent permeated the air. She stood there with a calm yet intense demeanor, her eyes locked on the priest. The atmosphere was charged with anticipation, a moment before the storm.

Their confrontation was inevitable. The tension grew palpable, the heavy silence setting the stage for a clash of forces.

As they began, it was evident from the very first move that the priest was outmatched. Lyria's movements were like a symphony of grace and precision, her every action a testament to her formidable skill. She moved with fluidity and power, her strikes executed with breathtaking accuracy.

The priest, on the other hand, found himself struggling to keep up. He tried to parry her blows, but Lyria's strikes were too swift and too fierce. Each time they clashed, it was a testament to the difference in their strength.

The priest's retreat was marked by a sense of urgency. His backpedaling was a silent admission that he was outmatched, yet it held an air of defiance. As he distanced himself from Lyria, his every step was measured, and his movements were deliberate.

In the chamber's dim light, the priest's hands came alive with a mesmerizing violet radiance. The glow that enveloped his hands was enchanting, casting eerie shadows on the chamber's walls. It seemed to be a manifestation of the weapon's malevolent energy, an ominous precursor to the impending battle.

The purple glow intensified, casting a haunting aura around the priest. It was a display of his readiness to unleash the weapon's power.

Cyrus, not one to stand idly by, warned Lyria, "He's summoning a weapon!"

In response, the priest conjured a weapon of unique and menacing beauty – a sleek serpent of purple hue, coiled tightly into a shape resembling a sharp-edged longsword. As the weapon materialized, it emitted a mysterious and malevolent aura, filling the room with a dense purple mist.

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Cyrus, who possessed the least cultivation strength among the three, immediately felt the effects of the poisonous aura in the air. Lyria cautioned him, "Get out, Cyrus. That weapon releases a poisonous aura. In a confined space like this, with limited air, it's highly effective. If the aura weakens your body's momentum, it could disrupt your energy flow."

The priest's sinister grin widened, his eyes gleaming with both respect and malice. "You are quite talented," he remarked, his voice dripping with a venomous mixture of admiration and malevolence. "It seems you have grasped the essence of this weapons abilities as soon as I summoned it. You have reached beyond the Knight Realm at such a tender age, which is a commendable feat."

He took a step back, increasing the distance between them as he continued to speak. "You would have made a fine offering to our Lord with your abilities. It's a pity we must meet like this."

He continued, revealing the name of his weapon, "This weapon is called Abyssalith. Its poisonous aura seeps into the air, disrupting the energy flow of opponents, particularly those weaker than me. But against someone of your strength, its effectiveness is limited. So..."

The priest readied Abyssalith and invited Lyria to engage, "Come, it will be my last stand."

Cyrus, struggling with the disintegrating bow in his hand, wanted to help, but Lyria assured him that she could handle it. Understanding that his presence would be of little assistance at this point, he reluctantly left the room.

With Cyrus gone, Lyria positioned herself for the battle. The priest, who had briefly felt a flicker of relief at her lack of weapon, knew that her incredible strength was a force to be reckoned with. He realized that even with his Abyssalith, she could easily overpower him.

Yet, the priest held a hidden trump card. Earlier, when he had consumed a vial, he had tucked the last three remaining vials into his pockets – the Sanjeevani that he had promised to Saya's son. In this enclosed space, even if his weapon cannot directly harm her like it did to Cyrus, the mist mixed in the air slowly seeps into her body. By the time time she realises, the mist would have taken effect. Now, he just needs to be alive till then which he quite confident in as he recover immediately with sanjeevani. Thinking this, he questions lyria "Aren't you going to draw your weapon?"

With resolve in her eyes, Lyria assured the priest, "No need."

The priest, momentarily relieved that she hadn't summoned her weapon, was aware that he needed to prolong the fight and avoid certain death. The room was set for a final confrontation, a battle between Lyria and the cunning priest, with an unseen countdown as the Sanjeevani's effects began to take hold.

After exiting the room where Lyria was locked in combat with the priest, Cyrus came across Atesso and Izel, who had just entered the temple. Atesso, curious and concerned, inquired, "Why are you alone, Cyrus? Where's Lyria?"

Cyrus, his face etched with worry, replied, "Lyria is fighting the priest inside. He has a poison-type weapon, and I'd only be a hindrance if I interfered."

Atesso grinned teasingly and chimed in, "Well, Cyrus, that's precisely why we've been telling you to train harder. Now, your girl is out there protecting you when you should be protecting her."

Cyrus couldn't resist smacking the back of Atesso's head and hissed, "Shush! If she hears us, we'll be in even deeper trouble."

Izel, ever the instigator, playfully teased Atesso, "Furthermore, Atesso, you've been urging Cyrus to train harder, yet you've been part of the organization for three years and haven't even passed the first realm."

Atesso shrugged good-naturedly and said, "Sure, you can say whatever you want, but one day, I will surpass you two."

Amid their banter, the trio shared a few light moments as they hoped for Lyria's safety.

Izel then pondered, "Now that we can't intervene in the battle, should we just wait around?"

Cyrus considered the options and suggested, "I heard there's a dungeon here where prisoners are kept. If they're innocent, maybe we could free them."

Determined to make good use of their time, the three friends made their way toward the dungeon. As they walked, Cyrus couldn't help but glance back at the room where Lyria was locked in her fierce battle against the priest. Concern etched his face, and with a heavy heart, he pressed forward toward the temple, resolute to aid in whatever way he could.

In the dark and dingy dungeon, Nazer lay chained, his body covered in a tapestry of scars that bore witness to the relentless torture he had endured. Days and nights had blurred into a nightmarish continuum of suffering. Whenever his tormentors deemed him unable to continue, they'd administer a mysterious elixir that revitalized his energy, only to subject him to their cruel practices once more. However, for the past five days, during the fervent festival celebrations, they had seemingly forgotten about him, leaving him alone in his misery. It seemed they had concluded that he was not affiliated with any organization. Yet, his audacious attack on the temple had marked him as a target for the priest's vengeful cruelty. In the dank cell, he had been left to wither, slowly starving.

Amid this bleak existence, the sound of the cell door creaking open reached his ears. His weakened body could barely respond, but he mustered the strength to open his heavy-lidded eyes. His vision was blurred, and he could discern only a vague figure approaching, which then abruptly collapsed. His fragile consciousness ebbed and flowed, as the arrival of this mysterious visitor remained an enigma in the gloom of the wretched dungeon.