Shattered Hope

|Lancelot|

My body tore through the blazing forest, leaving a trail of destruction in my wake as I fought to maintain my bearings amidst the chaos.

The emerald glow of my halberd shattered, unable to withstand the strain of my waning mana.

'What was that?' I demanded answers from Bell, frustration mingling with the trickle of crimson blood seeping from my nose.

'I'm not certain, Lancelot," she responded with a hint of helplessness. 'It possessed a power akin to aether, yet its utilization was unnaturally twisted.'

Even in my heightened Mana Sovereign state, the world before me was a swirling tapestry of mana and aether, but his attack eluded my senses.

Either his mastery of aether far surpassed even Gary's expertise, or he employed a cunning trick to conceal his true technique.

"Now, now, don't keep me waiting," he jeered, his words sending a shiver down my spine. I spun around, only to find him leering down at me with a smug grin.

With haste, I raised my hand, unleashing the fury of Spirit Storm toward him. Yet, it proved futile as he effortlessly extended two fingers, summoning a legion of ethereal blades that converged and halted my assault in its tracks.

"I won't keep my dear Cecilia waiting, so let's bring this to an abrupt end," he sneered, launching a relentless barrage of hundreds, if not thousands, of swords hurtling towards me.

In response, I activated Spirit's Hushed Dance, my movements honed to perfection by the augmented power of the Mana Sovereign state, allowing me to flawlessly detect and evade each incoming strike.

'Bell, it's time to go all out,' I declared to my spirit, steeling myself for what lay ahead, before activating my mana zone.

[Mana Zone: Neverland]

Though lacking the perfection of star magic in this realm, it would suffice for now.

A flicker of concern flashed across my enemy's face as he sensed his movements hampered by the atmospheric mana bending to my will.

Closing in on him, I prepared to strike him down with my blade, determination burning within me.

"How intriguing," he murmured, summoning a physical sword at his side. Suddenly, my advance was halted as he unsheathed the weapon, revealing a dark silver curved blade adorned with enigmatic markings.

In my journey, I had witnessed numerous extraordinary swords. Gary's Dusk's Shadowfang, Alistair's Faithkeeper and Argentum Fang, even Arthur's Dawn's Ballad to a certain extent.

All of them remarkable weapons.

But what stood before me now...

It was unlike any blade I had encountered before.

An essence of pure malevolence emanated from its very core.

"Quite macabre, wouldn't you agree?" he chuckled, his emerald gaze fixated on the sinister sword. "Even I was taken aback when Agrona bestowed this blade upon me. But why would I refuse such a gift?"

In that moment, it felt as if time itself had frozen, the world holding its breath, anticipating the Vritra's tale.

"This blade..." he spoke, his voice dripping with a sinister allure. "It is forged from the feathers of a phoenix, the scales of a dragon, the bones of a pantheon, and even the horns of a basilisk. Four of the eight Asura species. Why not all eight? Well, too many cooks spoil the broth, as they say. But I digress."

His piercing emerald gaze locked onto me, sending shivers of dread coursing through my entire being, as he continued with a chilling revelation.

"And do you know whose scales were used to fashion this very sword? Someone with whom your fellow Paladin shares a bloodline. The scales of the most formidable Asura to ever grace existence, Lady Saphira Claxter."

"Now, do you still harbor the illusion of victory?" he taunted, tilting his head in a mocking gesture. In a surge of raw power, his dark blade pulsated with an explosion of consuming darkness, fueled by the potent fusion of his mana and aether.

In an instant, my meticulously constructed mana zone was torn asunder, its protective embrace shattered. The world around me blurred, and the echoes of Bell's desperate cries resonated in my fading consciousness, a lamentation for our impending defeat.

And then, darkness claimed me, snatching away my awareness and leaving me engulfed in an abyss of unconsciousness.

|Gary|

A prickling sensation coursed through my veins, igniting a surge of urgency within me. With narrowed eyes, I turned my head abruptly, startling the other Council members who were taken aback by my sudden intensity.

'Telmore Forest,' I whispered, my thoughts consumed by the safety of Lancelot. 'He's in peril.'

Without giving anyone a chance to object, I issued my command with unwavering authority. "Virion, handle the remaining matters. I must act swiftly." With a resolute focus, I tore open a rift in the fabric of space, harnessing the power of spatium to traverse the realms with haste.

In an instant, the scenery shifted, transporting me from the Floating Castle to the beleaguered Telmore Forest—or what remained of it. The once majestic forest now stood engulfed in a ravenous blaze, threatening to reduce its splendor to ashes.

My attention fixated on the inferno, directing my mana to extinguish the most voracious flames before descending towards Lancelot's location.

A colossal crater marred the earth, stretching hundreds of meters at the forest's edge, perilously close to Mayburn. With unwavering determination, I descended swiftly, activating the cloak of Monarch's Indifference, shielding my heart from the heart-wrenching scene that awaited me.

There, amidst the devastation, Rachel wept inconsolably beside a fallen figure—a young man who held a cherished place in my heart, my closest friend in this life.

Crimson blood stained his lips as he valiantly struggled to console his beloved, while Sylphie, his spirit, wept beside him, fading away into nothing.

"You have finally arrived, Gary," Lancelot wheezed, his voice laced with pain, even with a malevolent blade of aether impaling his chest.

It was solely the fact that mana loved him that kept him clinging to life.

"I am here, Lancelot," I responded, my voice trembling with the weight of suppressed emotions as I allowed the facade of Monarch's Indifference to crumble, baring my soul to the full brunt of grief and anguish that threatened to consume me.

|Alistair|

"I implore you, release her," I pleaded, my voice trembling with desperation.

Ulrike's rage burned in her eyes as she tightened her grip on Tessia's silver locks, causing her to wince in pain. "Do you honestly believe I would show mercy after what you've done to my face?" she seethed. "Perhaps I should disfigure her with acid, and then we'll see if you still hold affection for your precious elf."

I stared defiantly at the leader who had lost his arm in our previous encounter. "Is this truly the path you choose, Richmal?" I questioned, my voice laced with disbelief.

"The end justifies the means," he retorted coldly. "You have already taken the lives of two of our comrades. If capturing your princess leads to our victory, then so be it."

Frustration coursed through me, my mind racing to find a way out of this dire situation. Reluctantly, I sheathed my twin swords, realizing that employing aether would be futile. These Vritras had somehow developed a means to detect its usage, rendering it useless against them.

In that moment, an illusion engulfed the surroundings, momentarily obscuring our reality.

Words of discouragement threatened to spill out of my lips, to save her life. Yet, a selfish resolve suppressed my instincts, silencing the utterance, understanding that Aya had willingly chosen to sacrifice herself.

I summoned Faithkeeper and Argentum Fang once more, their weight reassuring in my hands. Swiftly, I charged towards the three Wraiths, prepared to confront them.

The confrontation ended swiftly, the formidable Wraiths momentarily caught off guard by Aya's skillful illusions. In those precious seconds, I seized the opportunity to eliminate Ulrike and Blaise, liberating Tessia from their grasp. However, my triumph was short-lived, as a piercing scream filled the air, shattering the newfound hope.

"AHHHHH!" Aya's once alluring and captivating voice pierced through the chaos, a cry of despair that echoed with unimaginable pain. Richmal, fueled by his twisted arrogance, callously drove his hand through her heart, extinguishing her life in an instant.

But I refused to let him escape unscathed.

In a blur of emerald and silver, my blades sliced through the Wraith's neck with relentless speed, silencing him forever. As the life drained from his eyes, I stood before him, overcome with grief and fury.

"Why?" I choked out, my voice trembling with anguish. "Why must you abandon me, Aya?"

In those final moments, as Aya's breaths grew shallow and her essence waned, a radiant smile graced her lips. It was a bittersweet expression, filled with the joy of knowing that Tessia and I had survived the ordeal.

With the weight of loss heavy upon me, I watched as a powerful roar erupted from the depths of Elshire Forest, followed by the devastating wrath of a dragon. Its vengeance unleashed upon the Alacaryans, a cataclysmic storm that claimed the lives of thousands.

|Arthur|

"I see you've come alone," I remarked, my gaze fixated on the imposing figure before me—the Scythe known as Cadell.

It was he who had mercilessly taken the lives of Sylvie and Saphira, leaving a trail of sorrow and anguish in his wake. From the twisted horns that adorned his head, curling beneath his ears, to the bloodstained cape that mirrored the fiery intensity of his eyes, every aspect of his appearance exuded an aura of ominous power and unbridled arrogance.

He remained unchanged, just as I had remembered him from over a decade ago.

In those days, I was but a defenseless child, incapable of opposing his malevolence. But times had changed, and so had I.

"So, you venture here unaccompanied," I stated calmly, though contempt laced my words. "Truly befitting of an asura. You still carry that same air of superiority, looking down upon us 'lessers'."

I had witnessed firsthand their haughty disdain in Epheotus—their unwavering belief in their own supremacy, their utter disregard for those they deemed beneath them. This twisted sense of entitlement seemed to have been inherited by their half-blood descendants, even though they paled in comparison to their pure-blooded counterparts.

Their pride remained intact, unyielding, despite their inherent weakness.

Today, I would witness the depths of despair etched across the face of an Asura, defeated by a mere lesser like myself.

As the power of Realmheart surged within me, the very fabric of the world responded, aglow with the vibrant hues of mana and aether.

'Sylvie, have faith in me,' I reassured her through our telepathic bond, 'I will emerge victorious. Look after our division.'

Summoning Dawn's Ballad by my side, I faced Cadell as he advanced, his every movement resonating with an overwhelming surge of soulfire.

While the Vritra's mastery of mana arts surpassed our own, courtesy of their Asuran lineage, aether stood even higher on the hierarchy.

The battle commenced as Cadell launched himself at me, his soulfire met with the formidable resistance of my frostfire infused with ethereal motes of aether.

Though rudimentary, the combination proved effective.

Obsidian blades materialized in his hands, and we clashed in a clash of swordsmanship—a grave miscalculation on his part.

In the duel that ensued, I consistently outmatched and outmaneuvered him, my swordplay far surpassing his own.

Yet, just as I prepared to deliver the final blow, his body transformed into a swirling mist of darkness, allowing my blade to pass through emptiness.

In an unexpected turn, his obsidian blade found its mark, drawing blood from my side. Nonetheless, I swiftly retaliated, kicking him aside.

"New trick?" I scoffed, swiftly mending my wound with the healing power of vivum. I wouldn't allow the insidious soulfire to seep into my body and consume me from within.

He remained silent, his eyes narrowing with an intensified determination before launching another assault.

The once-clear sky grew ominously dark. Cadell soared at the heart of a tempestuous hurricane, infused with a swirling maelstrom of Decay. The malevolent wind coalesced into an impenetrable cloud, obscuring his figure.

With a forceful gesture, he jerked his hand downward, unleashing a deluge of black spikes and searing soulfire from the ominous cloud. Like a merciless barrage of ballista bolts, the burning projectiles rained down. The infernal wind propelled them with increasing velocity, creating menacing streaks of darkness.

Above me, a shield formed, interweaving aether and mana, acting as a bulwark against his relentless assault. Within the protective barrier, I calculated the optimal strategy to bring this battle to a decisive conclusion.

A single resolute strike, fueled by the power of aether, would be necessary to vanquish him. Yet, his elusive mist form posed a hindrance to my plan.

In a swift motion, I teleported towards him, my blade slicing through his neck just as he attempted to evade it. A grunt escaped him, his mist form struggling to escape.

However, I seized control of time with the arcane mastery of aevum, suspending his mist form within its confines. In this temporal stasis, I utilized the prescient capabilities of Realmheart to anticipate his next move and deactivate his ethereal state. With my manipulation of aevum complete, I relinquished my hold, channeling all my mana and aether into my sword.

As anticipated, Cadell moved precisely to the spot where I awaited him. My blade pierced through his back, lifting his body with my firm grasp.

Gurgled sounds escaped his throat as mana deserted him, his Asuran form succumbing to the absence of life-giving energy.

"It's over, Cadell, Arthur," I said indifferently before dropping his corpse on the ground, done with my job.