CHAPTER 1018: ROT

The vines shot up like striking serpents coiling around the giant eagle’s talons before it even had time to react.

The huge summon animal shrieked in agony as Esther’s thorned vines dug deep into its flesh, blood dripping where the barbs tore through.

Its massive wings beat violently against the air but the bindings only tightened, each struggle making the thorns bury deeper.

Ilvera’s eyes widened, her composure shattering.

She looked down at the writhing vines, panic flashing across her face.

"W–what—?!"

The screeching of her summon stabbed at her ears, and fear was coming into her chest.

"You are indeed strong. You have a lot of Magic energy pool, you have a lot of Magic artifacts others could never dream of, and your wealth can buy you the greatest teachers in the land. But you are nothing but a brat who has never seen the real world."

Esther’s voice rang out cold and sharp, every word deliberate, her tone was sharp. Her eyes narrowed and her expression darkening and almost cruel.

Her gaze pierced Ilvera. She was no longer viewing her as a child but as a true enemy.

The thorns in the vines twisted again and the eagle let out another scream of pain.

Ilvera felt the chill race down her spine. Her breathing quickened and her mind scrambled uncontrollably.

"I... I can’t think... I must do something. Yes! another summon. A stronger one!"

She forced her trembling hands together, channeling raw energy into her runed gloves.

The engravings pulsed with light, glowing brighter as a summoning circle began to form in the air before her.

Esther exhaled heavily, shaking her head with visible disappointment.

"You... you really don’t get it, do you? Instead of controlling your eagle, instead of learning how to fight with what you already have to escape this situation first, you immediately summon another?" Her voice dripped with scorn. "Pathetic."

But Ilvera didn’t hear her. The circle grew brighter until the vines gave one final violent pull.

The eagle screeched as its body was yanked downward, Ilvera screaming as she was dragged with it.

Her half-finished summoning shattered into fading sparks of light.

"AAAAAAAH!" she cried, clinging desperately to the eagle’s feathers as both were slammed toward the ground.

Esther leapt gracefully from the treetop, her cloak fluttering behind her. Her eyes locked on her prey.

She landed silently on the ground. The vines following her command, writhing and tightening around the eagle and its master like serpents coiling around their kill.

—

Inside the haze of destruction, Arty stirred.

She staggered, dirt and ash clinging to her skin.

She pushed herself to her feet with a grunt. Her body trembled slightly. Not from wounds but from the sheer force of the earlier shockwave.

"Damn it..." she muttered under her breath, wiping blood from her lip.

Across the scorched field Renard was already rising. His body was marred with cuts, burns, and seared flesh. Blood trickled down his body but his face was twisted into something feral.

His eyes gleamed with maniac intensity. His lips curled into a grin that looked more like a beast than a human.

Arty’s brows furrowed as unease settled in her chest. "He’s... not normal."

Her fists clenched. "What should I do?" Her mind raced. "Should I... really kill him?"

The thought feels heavy. He doesn’t want to kill another human being if can, but logic pressed harder.

"He won’t stop. He can’t stop. And if he doesn’t stop, he’ll kill me and he’ll kill the others."

Arty thought.

"Kill him..."

Suddenly a whisper slid into her mind, soft at first, but unmistakably her own voice. But she knew it wasn’t her.

Her brows furrowed. "What... what was that?"

"You know what you must do. You must kill him. End him before he harms you again. He threatened your friends, didn’t he? Kill him. KILL HIM!"

The voice roared, echoing inside her skull, each word hammering harder until her head rang in pain.

Arty squeezed her eyes shut, her teeth clenched against the pressure clawing at her mind.

In that vulnerable moment, Renard moved.

His body blurred, lightning sparking from his limbs as he appeared before her in an instant.

His strike connected with brutal force.

CRACK!

The attack slammed into her chest and hurling her backward like a ragdoll.

She smashed against a tree trunk. Bark splintering under the impact. A violent cough burst from her lips with blood spraying into the air.

Her body sagged against the tree and her vision swimming. But the voice inside her head still echoed louder and darker.

"Kill him... or be killed."

Arty’s vision swam, the voice in her skull pounding. Her breaths came ragged and shallow, every inhale scraping her chest with fire.

Then suddenly her eyes snapped downward and she froze.

Her hands... her hands were blackened.

The flesh shriveled and peeling as if consumed by rot. Pus bubbled from her veins and dripped in foul streams, sizzling against the ground.

Her trembling fingers clawed at her own arms, frantically scratching, tearing at her skin as she gasped in horror.

"No... no, no, no!" Her scream was ragged and broken.

Her nails scraped against her face and what she felt made her blood run colder than ice. The flesh there was sagging, rotting, and slipping away beneath her touch.

Her heart thundered wildly. Panic swallowed her whole, suffocating her ability for reason, dragging her mind deeper into the abyss.

Her vision spiraled with terror.

Through that haze, Renard’s laughter cut through like a blade.

"Haaahahahaha!" His eyes were wide and wild. His bloodstained teeth flashing as he blurred forward again.

Lightning crackled across his body, and before Arty could even shield herself...

CRACK!

His fist smashed into her face. Her body whiplashed, crashing against the dirt.

She hit the ground hard but he didn’t stop.

He fell on her like a storm. His fists rising and falling, striking her again and again. Each blow was strong and gave an impact that shook the ground.

His manic and endless laughter mixed with the crunch of bone and the spray of blood.

Arty’s eyes were wide, but what she saw wasn’t blood. It was rot and pus splattering the ground, spreading across her body like a plague that consumed her alive. That unknown thing made her panicked beyond measure.

Her screams were lost beneath his laughter.

But in reality, her skin was still normal with no rot and no pus. Only blood, dirt, and bruises from Renard’s savage assault.

The decay she felt, the horror she clawed at, was nothing but the nightmare inside her own mind, tightening its grip, dragging her deeper into madness.

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