CHAPTER 45: PERCHEL ZONE CLEARED

But Kael Vi-rel roared, a guttural sound of pure defiance, forcing the last of his magic into his strike. His body screamed in agony as his mana reserves drained dry, leaving him feeling hollowed out and empty, yet he swung with everything he had. With a brutal arc, his sword severed the ghoul’s head in one clean motion. The creature’s body collapsed, writhing for a moment before dissolving into a black mist that scattered into the night air, carried away by the wind like smoke.

For a single, long heartbeat, silence reigned. The battlefield was littered with the horrifying scars of warped space, whole sections of the ground erased as though carved away by a careless god. Selene and Clara stood frozen, their bodies slack with disbelief, unable to comprehend the sheer, raw power they had just witnessed.

Kael Vi-rel staggered, his sword slipping from his numb fingers and clattering to the ground. His vision blurred as the adrenaline, his only fuel, faded. The backlash from overusing his mana and stamina crushed down on him all at once, a tidal wave of exhaustion and pain. His legs trembled violently, and his chest heaved for air that barely filled his lungs. He was running on fumes, and the engine was about to give out.

"Master Kael!" Hay’s voice broke, filled with pure, unadulterated panic.

But he couldn’t respond. His knees buckled, the world spinning around him in a dizzying kaleidoscope of color and motion. The last thing he saw was Clara Winslet rushing forward, her face pale with fear, her arms outstretched. The black mist of the ghoul finally faded into nothingness. Then Kael Vi-rel collapsed onto the broken battlefield, unconscious, his body lying among the scars of warped space, a testament to his sheer will.

Kael Vi-rel woke up with a throbbing headache, his vision still blurry as he blinked at the faint glow of torchlight dancing across the cold stone walls. His body felt heavy, as though he had been trampled by a stampede, and every muscle in his frame screamed for rest. Slowly, he sat upright, clutching his forehead.

The stone floor beneath him was unforgivingly cold, a sharp contrast to the dull ache of his exhausted bones. The air, once filled with the tension of combat, now held only a quiet stillness, broken only by the soft, rhythmic drips of water echoing from some unseen corner of the dungeon chamber. He could smell the lingering scent of ozone and dust, the ghosts of the battle.

"So, you have finally woken up, huh?" Selene Whitmore’s calm voice broke the silence. Her piercing eyes were fixed on him, arms crossed over her chest. She stood at a slight distance, her posture radiating both relief and sharp disapproval. The light from a nearby torch cast long, wavering shadows across her face, highlighting the tense set of her jaw. She looked as if she had been waiting for a long time, her patience worn thin.

Kael Vi-rel’s lips curled into a weak smile. "Yeah... I guess I’m alive. What about the ghoul? Did I get it or did it escape?" The words felt like sandpaper on his parched throat, but he had to know. The memory of the fight was a jarring blend of instinct and blur, a fever dream of near misses and brutal force.

Selene Whitmore tilted her head and scoffed. "Escape? Hardly." Her voice held a hint of grudging admiration, a rare sound from her. "It’s gone. You made sure of that."

"Well, you just defeated it," Clara Winslet chimed in, her tone lighter, almost cheerful. She pointed toward the grotesque figure sprawled across the ground, its twisted body already crumbling into ash. The sight of the defeated foe was a small comfort, a tangible sign that his sacrifice had meant something. "Its body is right there, but..." she paused, crouching down and poking at the remains, "...it didn’t drop any rewards. Not a single coin or magic stone. How unlucky." Her disappointment was palpable, a stark contrast to her earlier relief. For her, the reward was as important as the victory itself.

Kael Vi-rel rubbed the back of his neck, sighing. "Seriously? After all that effort?" The sting of the void’s graze on his side still ached, and the thought of such a brutal battle yielding nothing but exhaustion felt like a slap in the face. It was an anticlimax, a bitter end to a heroic effort.

"Don’t worry about that," Kael Vi-rel added with a reassuring grin, though he felt anything but. "I’ll make sure you’re compensated properly later. You have my word, Selene Whitmore and Clara Winslet." The promise was a necessary one, a way to show his appreciation for their support and to smooth over the disappointment.

Selene Whitmore gave him a tired nod. "Fine, I’ll hold you to that." Her trust was a heavy burden, but he accepted it without hesitation. He knew he could not have won that fight without them, even if they had been forced to stay out of the direct conflict. Their presence had been his anchor.

"Good. Then let’s not waste any more time. Let’s leave this dungeon," Kael Vi-rel said firmly. He felt a sudden, powerful need to escape the suffocating walls and the lingering residue of the ghoul’s power.

A faint glow enveloped the party as the dungeon’s exit rune activated. In the blink of an eye, all three were teleported outside. The sudden rush of fresh air filled Kael Vi-rel’s lungs, far more invigorating than the stale, suffocating atmosphere within the dungeon’s depths. The world outside felt alive again the chirping of distant birds, the warmth of sunlight, and the rustle of wind through the leaves. The shift was jarring, a sudden return to life after dancing so close to death.

The three companions exchanged brief words of farewell, each heading off in different directions to rest and recover. Kael Vi-rel lingered for a moment, staring at his own hands, still trembling slightly. I survived... but for how long? The thought was a nagging whisper in the back of his mind. He had pushed himself to the brink, and it had been enough this time. But what about the next? What would it take to overcome the next challenge? The game was more brutal than he had remembered, and his life felt more fragile than ever. The thrill of victory was already fading, replaced by a quiet, gnawing fear.

The Next morning

The bustling courtyard of the Crimson Thorn group was alive with chatter. Students moved about, discussing quests, trading goods, and boasting of conquests. The air was thick with the scent of roasted meat from a nearby stall and the sweet perfume of blooming flowers from a nearby garden. It was a place of vibrant energy, a hive of ambition and rivalry. But far away from the noise, two figures stood in the quiet corner of the guild’s upper balcony.

"I think I know what’s on your mind," Julie Wartin said casually, her long crimson coat swaying lightly with the breeze. She leaned against the railing, watching the movement below with a sly grin. She was always observant, her wit as sharp as her gaze.

Lucian Crowe, standing beside her, remained silent, his expression unreadable. His sharp eyes followed the crowd, though it was obvious he wasn’t looking at them at all. He was thinking. The defeat of the ghoul had reached his ears, and with it, the whispers of Kael Vi-rel’s unusual power. It was a puzzle he was determined to solve, a flaw in the perfect world he had built for himself.

"Hmm?" Lucian Crowe finally muttered, sparing her a sidelong glance. He was not one for idle conversation, especially when a new mystery had presented itself.