CHAPTER 53: WEAKNESS ALONG WITH DREAD

"Haaaa..." Caelen exhaled. After what felt like a dance of death, his chest finally loosened. The frantic pounding in his body slowed, his breath steadied. Only now could he think clearly, only now could he try to figure out how to crawl out of this hellish situation.

"I need something to keep safer from this shit... the bow, that can help," he muttered to himself, reaching for the bag at his side.

His hands slipped inside until they brushed against wood, and he pulled out the elven bow. It was beautiful even in this cursed place, its body was covered in carvings so precise it looked like someone had cut the wood with a knife made for art, not war.

He dug further and found arrows. The sight made him pause, relief and hope creeping into him. Maybe these weren’t just ordinary weapons.

Out in the world, people made tools from rare materials, metals, magic stones, and ores that carried strength beyond their wielder. If this bow and these arrows were crafted from that kind of material, then maybe, just maybe, they could make a difference here.

He stared at one of the arrows, an idea crawling into his mind. What if I cover it in my demon energy? Will it hold, or will it break apart like everything else I try?

He gripped the shaft, focused, and tried to wrap his aura around it. The black-gray energy flickered along the arrowhead, then shattered into nothing.

He clicked his tongue and tried again. And again. The aura kept disintegrating, as if the wood was rejecting it. His muscles tightened, sweat running down his temple, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t afford to stop.

Two minutes of grinding effort later, the aura finally clung to the arrow, coating it in a thin but steady layer.

"...Nice." He whispered it under his breath, a small victory in this nightmare.

He stood and crept toward the edge of the mountain. His boots scraped lightly against the stone, and he slowed, forcing silence. Step by step until the cliff’s edge opened in front of him. He crouched and peeked over.

The centipede was still there. Its massive body writhed slowly as it tore into the serpent’s corpse. The crunch of bones echoed faintly, the sound chewing at Caelen’s nerves.

He narrowed his eyes, studying the thing. Could it climb the mountain? He looked at its body, the countless legs twitching in rhythm. It seemed built for horizontal movement, for crushing anything in its path, but climbing sheer cliffs? Maybe not.

Relief bled into his chest, but he didn’t let himself sink into it. Better to assume the worst than die from false comfort.

He stepped back from the edge, nocked the arrow, and pulled the string. Demon energy seeped into the arrowhead again, the aura whispering with a hungry hiss. He edged closer to the cliff, every nerve in his body screaming as his gaze locked onto the centipede.

It stopped feeding. Its head lifted, feelers twitching, eyes glinting faintly as if it sensed him. That gaze made his chest tighten, dread gnawing up his throat. He felt small, almost crushed beneath it.

"Shit..." He didn’t wait. With no hesitation, he released.

The arrow streaked down like a streak of black lightning. The centipede jerked, its head twisting aside at the last instant. The arrow slammed into the thick pincer at its mouth.

The aura erupted in a violent burst. The air shook with the blast as half the monster’s face tore apart, green slime spraying out in a disgusting wave.

The centipede screamed. The sound wasn’t just a cry, but it was pressure itself, a vibrating wind that rattled his bones.

Caelen staggered back from the cliff, teeth clenched against the shiver running down his spine. His foot caught the rock, and he quickly pushed himself farther away from the edge.

Below, the centipede’s huge body writhed, then slammed into the ground with an impact that sent dust and leaves spiraling. It collapsed.

The corpse twitched, oozing rivers of slime across the earth. The stench carried upward, bitter and sour, forcing Caelen to cover his mouth.

"Ugghh..." He stepped back again. The sight made his stomach twist. The goo poured out endlessly, painting the ground in green. The monster looked more disgusting in death than in life.

His chest heaved, breath after breath, until it finally slowed again. Calm crept back in, heavy but steady. The first thing he did was grab his bag.

He crouched to pick up the dagger he had dropped when the serpent’s coils had choked him. His fingers curled around the handle, grounding him, before shoving it back into the bag.

When he looked down again, his eyes widened. The centipede’s body was swarmed. Tiny creatures, too many to count, crawled over it.

Their teeth sank into the green flesh, ripping and tearing. The massive corpse was already being devoured.

"...Great," Caelen muttered. So this forest isn’t just crawling with giant monsters. It’s filled with flesh-eaters too. Perfect.

No time to linger. Staying on the ground here was suicide. He glanced at the bow and the few arrows he had left. Ten in total. One was already gone. Nine left. He clenched his jaw. Losing them would be stupid. These weren’t just arrows anymore, they were survival itself.

He took a deep breath, spread his wings, and lifted himself off the mountain. It wasn’t graceful.

His body tilted awkwardly, the wind tugging at him, but he forced himself upward.

His flight wasn’t pretty, but right now it didn’t matter. He would get the hang of it. He had no choice.

The Elf Palace

The glow of the palace stood in sharp contrast to the nightmare he had just left. After the exchange with the girls and the Queen, along with her mother, they split apart.

Lucy walked alongside Seralyth, the queen’s mother, her back straight but her steps carrying a weight Caelen didn’t miss.

The rest, Emma, Evelyn, and Silver, fell in behind Elunara. Their footsteps echoed softly against the stone floor, the palace walls reflecting faint glimmers of light.

The air was heavy, not with blood and monsters this time, but with silence between them, the kind that carried more meaning than words.

Lucy followed Seralyth through the long stone hall. The elf’s steps were calm, almost casual, but her presence weighed heavily. Without turning her head, Seralyth suddenly spoke.

"So. Name?"

Lucy blinked, caught off guard. "...Lucille," she answered after a pause.

The elf gave a small nod. "Alright, Lucille. Good name." She glanced back briefly, eyes sharp. "You can walk faster than that, right?"

Lucy quickened her pace, moving in step.

"Tell me," Seralyth continued, voice smooth, "are you also Caelen’s lover?"

Lucy froze mid-step, her pale face tightening. She hesitated, wrestling with the answer, but finally gave the faintest nod. A light blush touched her cheeks despite her drained state.

Seralyth only nodded again. "Alright. Even though you’re a demon... just wanted to be sure."

They walked until the hall opened up into a vast grassy clearing — the same place where Seralyth had first met Caelen. She lowered herself into the grass, sitting with graceful ease. Lucy remained standing, unsure, until Seralyth’s gaze lifted back to her.

"I’m very curious about you," the elf said calmly. "So... tell me. What is your magic type?"

Lucy stiffened at the question. She hadn’t expected it, but the answer slipped out almost automatically. "...Ice."

Seralyth repeated the word slowly. "Ice, huh? That’s good. Especially for materializing things."

Her eyes lingered, sharp and unreadable. "And your combat proficiency?"

Lucy shifted slightly. "...Close quarters. That’s how I fight."

"Okay, okay," Seralyth mused. "That’s good. I know someone who uses ice magic. She usually just freezes things straight away, which is how she fights. I don’t hate it, but I don’t praise it either." A faint smirk touched her lips. "Not that she cares about my opinion anyway."

Lucy didn’t respond.

"Then how about this?" Seralyth continued, tilting her head. "You and I have a sparring match. Let me see what you can do."

Lucy tensed. "Sorry... I can’t use my magic right now. Since Caelen went off to train, I have to wait for him, I can’t recover without him." Her hands clenched, her voice carrying a trace of frustration. She hated the weakness clinging to her body and hated even more how helpless it made her feel, which before she was praised for being strong.

Seralyth’s eyes narrowed, studying her. She could see it.

"In that case," the elf said quietly, "do you want to learn how to get better in close quarters? We don’t have to use magic. We can try weapons. I think it’s really useful... even if you prefer your fists."

Lucy hesitated, then exhaled. "...I don’t mind." She wanted to keep busy. To push her body. To stop her thoughts from circling back to home and her mother, which this weakness reminds her of. Maybe she could gain something from this.

Seralyth rose to her feet, brushing the grass off her dress. She motioned with her hand, creating space between them.

"Alright then. Are you ready?"

Lucy stepped forward, shoulders tightening, and raised her fists into position. "Yeah."

They adjusted their stances. The air between them grew sharp, heavy with tension.

The silence broke.

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[Hoped you enjoyed the Chapter, and obviously more are coming and hope you stay and enjoy it and if not, i don’t mind feedback and any comment which might help.