CHAPTER 69: EXPLOSION!

From the final stroke, the wind screamed—and reality cracked open.

The aether-glyphs Lucas had traced into the air shuddered with sudden brilliance. A swirling vortex of green light erupted from the sigils, spiraling upward like a rising gale.

The arena’s sounds dulled beneath the force of summoned wind—not with overwhelming volume, but with presence.

Dust and flame bent inward toward Lucas, not torn by power, but pulled by recognition—as though even the elements paused to see what would emerge.

A single crack split the space before him. Then another. Veins of emerald light spidered outward through the air like lightning frozen in time, sharp and deliberate.

Then it burst—not violently, but with intention.

A rush of emerald brilliance spilled forth, coalescing into form with a sound like rushing wind and whispered prophecy.

Then the light pulsed.

A shape began to form, emerging from the center of the swirling aether.

At first, it was just a shimmer, a distortion in the air—like wind caught in sunlight.

Ash tensed, one paw slowly shifting in front of Lucas, unsure of what would step through.

Then paws touched the ground.

She stepped out of the light with grace and quiet fury, her form fully materialized from the storm.

Massive and low to the ground, her body moved with a raw elegance, muscles rippling beneath her sleek fur with each calculated step. Her eyes—crimson as bloodied wind—flashed in the haze of summoned aether.

Every movement was quiet, but charged with an undercurrent of danger.

Ash’s spine stiffened as he realised the beast that had just been summoned. This was the feline that he had been accompanying him the whole time from the battlefield.

It had been left back at the Valen Estate but now it was here.

The feline’s fur shimmered not just with silver and green, but with streaks of pale violet that faded as quickly as they came, as if the wind itself weaved through her.

Her long tail unfurled slowly, like a banner caught in an unseen storm, and her claws clicked gently against the cracked marble, each step poised and deliberate.

Her gaze swept the broken environment like a blade—before locking with Lucas.

Her long tail curled like a banner caught in an invisible breeze, and each movement stirred the air around her in ghostlike currents.

Ash blinked, caught off guard by the silence of her arrival.

Lucas’s mouth fell open, a gasp lodged in his throat.

His voice was caught in his throat as something familiar clicked in his gaze, "Wait... that’s—"

The feline tilted her head slightly, her stormlit eyes narrowing with recognition as well. She padded forward, each step effortless and airy, until she stood before the boy. The wind around her, once wild and swirling, slowed into a gentle current.

Lucas extended a tentative hand, "I know you... You were at the estate. You were the one in the courtyard..."

The feline blinked slowly, then stepped forward to gently touch her nose to his fingertips.

Lucas lowered his voice, "You remember me... don’t you?"

The feline let out a low rumble—neither threatening nor soothing, but filled with something deeper. Recognition.

Ash’s mouth curled slightly, his expression shifting from focused to something closer to impressed, ’I can’t believe it’s her... She’s the one from the courtyard.’

Lucas turned to him, "She watched me every day. I thought she was just... curious. Looks like there was something deeper..."

The feline stepped closer to Lucas, her side brushing against him like a promise made real.

At that moment, Ash’s thoughts and attention returned to the situation at hand as he nodded once, ’It’s not enough to win... but we’ve got more fire to throw into this fight.’

He stepped closer, crouching so his golden eyes were level with Lucas’s, ’This will be your first real fight, Lucas. Your first time standing on the edge with blood and death around you. There’s no more waiting. No more safety. You must be ready.’

’Listen to her. Trust her. She’s part of your strength now,’ Ash hesitated for just a moment, then placed a paw gently on Lucas’s shoulder, ’This will be your first real fight, Lucas. But you must fight to protect yourself, not to harm. You must be ready.’

He glanced once more toward the battlefield—toward Bennett and Seraphina, holding their own amidst overwhelming odds.

’They need me,’ Ash said quietly, ’Your parents. I am going to go help them. But you—’

He locked eyes with Lucas again— ’you hold this ground. You and her. Together. Can you do that?’

Lucas took a deep breath, nodding slowly as the feline moved to his side, her fur bristling with awareness.

"I am," he whispered. "I will be."

But even as the words left his lips, something stirred behind his eyes.

For a heartbeat, he wasn’t in the ruined arena anymore. He was younger—standing in the Valen estate’s training hall, fists clenched, facing a younger version of Bennet.

His voice echoed across the stone: "Strength doesn’t come from power, Lucas. It comes from purpose. Know why you stand, and the rest will follow."

Then his father’s voice, sharper: "There will be a day, son, when you cannot wait for someone else to act. In that moment, you must become fire."

The memory snapped away.

Ash watched him with an unreadable look.

’Good,’ he muttered.

Meanwhile, the duel at the heart of the chaos became more than a clash of blades—it was a collision of legacy and doctrine, of conviction and fury.

Bennett moved like a man possessed, every strike laced with righteous fire. His blade trailed arcs of molten gold, and the very air hissed as it cut.

Opposite him, the cult leader wove through his onslaught with spectral elegance. Her twin daggers sliced through sigils midair, deflecting bursts of power with unnatural precision.

Her eyes never wavered, locked onto him like a predator reading the weakness in a rival.

The battleground shuddered with each step they took, the earth splitting beneath them, as if unwilling to contain the fury of their war.

Their weapons locked—golden flame against violet corrosion.

"I underestimated you," Bennett growled.

The cult leader smirked, eyes gleaming with an amused expression, "And I must thank you for that, Lord Valen. Now, many more will die because of your weakness."

Bennett’s grip tightened, golden lines glowing up his arms.

"Not if I end you all here..." he said—and struck with everything he had.

To their flank, Seraphina carved her way through the battlefield like a descending star. Her serpent, luminous and swift, danced through flames and rubble, coiling protectively around nobles and children alike as it lashed out with radiant fury.

Her own aether pulsed in rhythmic harmony with the beast, silver light flaring with each flick of her fingers.

A cultist lunged from the dust, his blade already mid-swing—but Seraphina’s hand snapped up before the strike landed.

A shimmering barrier caught the blow, and her counterstrike followed like the falling of a guillotine.

The cultist crumpled—

—but then he smiled.

A slow, evil grin spread across his bloodied lips, and a low, guttural laugh escaped his throat.

Suddenly, the cultist’s body convulsed. His veins glowed with unstable violet aether that surged wildly through him. The air warped, pulsing with dangerous energy.

Ash’s eyes narrowed as he felt a sudden impending sense of doom, ’No...’

’He’s going to blow!’ Ash roared.

Shadows of the Pack!

Three clones burst from the shadows, forming in front of him like wolves answering a call. They stood poised and silent, eyes locked on him, awaiting command.

Ash didn’t hesitate. Shadow Sprints!

In the blink of a heartbeat, he launched forward, his form blurred into raw momentum. The first clone caught him, flinging him like a slingshot of flesh and fury. He tore through the battlefield, a blur of claws and shadow.

The second clone ignited, hurling him harder, faster—his form becoming a streak of kinetic violence.

From the third, he didn’t just sprint.

He exploded.

Ash erupted from the final shadow—

—and collided with the cultist like a meteor.

Bone cracked. Flesh folded. The air itself seemed to warp from the sheer force of impact. The cultist didn’t fall—he was launched, twisted in midair, his weapon spiraling from his grasp.

He crashed into a broken pillar across the battlefield.

And then, he detonated.

A shockwave of violet-black aether ripped outward, vaporizing the column in a ring of cursed fire. Debris shattered into the sky. Ash’s feet staggered on cracked marble as the blast rolled past him like thunder.

For a moment, only smoke remained.

Then silence.

’God that hurt!’ Ash shouted internally, feeling pain coursing all throughout his body.

Ash dropped low, steadying himself, ears twitching as he forced himself to ignore the pain.

His gaze whipped to Seraphina, ’Are you hurt?’

She rose from behind her barrier, breathing hard but composed, "You stopped him just in time."

Ash gave a tight nod, but his eyes weren’t on her anymore.

They were on the crater.

The fire had dimmed. But the truth still glowed.

Ash stepped closer, nostrils flaring. Beneath the scorched remnants of skin and armor, strange lines shimmered—not tattoos. Not scars.

Runes.

Carved into the flesh.

Buried beneath the skin.

His pupils shrank.

’No,’ he growled, ’I’ve seen that design before...’

He lifted his head—and scanned the battlefield.

Another cultist surged forward. Ash’s eyes narrowed.

There it was again. A flicker of arcane light beneath his neck. Another across the arm. One on the thigh. Faint. But unmistakable.

All of them.

’They’re marked,’ Ash said, voice now flat and cold.

He turned to Seraphina.

’Exploding runes. Engraved beneath the skin.’

A beat of silence.

Then his voice dropped.

’They’re not here to fight.’

’They’re here to die.’

’And they’re taking us with them.’