CHAPTER 465: CHAPTER 465 - NIGHT RAID [V]

Askara gripped the hilt of his Katana tighter, the edge of his blade trembling with condensed crimson light. The mana around him thickened, vibrating with restrained violence.

"Then we make it simple," he said, voice low but cutting through the storm.

He stepped forward, boots crunching against the fractured ice, his mismatched eyes glowing in the ruinous snowlight. "I’ll handle the cult. You guys keep that thing busy"

Kiara’s voice cracked through the wind, sharp with disbelief. "You can’t take eleven of them alone!"

Askara glanced over his shoulder, the corner of his mouth curving. "Who said I’d be alone?"

The air around him twisted, then bled. From the snow, shadows poured out like spilled ink, writhing into shape. Dozens, then hundreds, of spectral figures rose silently, their bodies formed from blood and mist. Their faces were obscured, yet their eyes blazed a uniform crimson, burning with loyalty and wrath.

The storm itself seemed to bow to their presence.

Every Blood Echo knelt behind Askara in unison, their voices unheard, but their intent palpable, an army born from his will alone.

For a brief moment, even the cultists hesitated.

Anggana’s grin widened, revealing sharp teeth. "He’s calling the Blood Echoes again... It’s been a while." His emerald aura pulsed in sync with his heartbeat. "But... isn’t it still not perfect yet?"

Askara tilted his head slightly, the faintest smirk forming. "Perfection is boring"

His katana lifted, and the crimson aura crawled up the steel like veins pulsing with life. Each heartbeat made the air hum with deeper resonance. When he spoke, his voice was calm, steady, yet it carried like a command across the frozen plain.

"D’Archys," he said, tone solemn but alive with pride, "Always remember, if we start something..."

He turned toward the eleven masked figures, eyes narrowing to burning slits.

"...we see it to the end. Even if it means dying trying"

And then, he moved.

The Blood Echoes followed, surging like a tide of living shadows behind him. Each step Askara took left a streak of red light burning in the snow.

The cultists raised their hands, chanting as sigils flared to life, but their formation shattered the moment Askara’s army collided with them. Steel met corrupted mana, crimson light and darkness clashing in violent harmony.

Meanwhile, Kiara’s jaw tightened. Her eyes flicked toward the siblings, then back to the monstrous figure rising beyond the ridge, the reformed Aboriginal Being, its vast shape writhing with corruption.

"You heard him," she said, her voice trembling with determination. "Let’s finish what we started"

Anindha’s runes ignited. Anggana spread his wings, scales shimmering in the dim light. Litani cracked her gauntlets together, golden sparks dancing like lightning between her fingers.

And as Askara vanished into a sea of blood and shadow to face the cult, the rest of the D’Archy siblings charged toward the new horror, a god reborn through blasphemy.

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- Outside the Artificial Dimension.

A moment before the True Aboriginal Being of the Artificial Dimension emerged, Erelythe, Shasha, and Alice, who were standing guard not far from the Gate, suddenly felt a disturbance.

Erelythe’s expression darkened. Her Crimson eyes caught the faint shimmer within the Gate.

"Something unnatural is being born," she murmured, her voice low but laden with weight. "That presence... It’s almost identical to Lembuswana"

The air around them trembled. Even without touching the portal, the mana it exuded began to twist the mana around them.

"An Aboriginal Being? And this Mana, a Corrupted Mana?" Alice asked, disbelief cracking through her voice. Her pulse quickened. She knew what that meant what it implied.

Lembuswana, the Beast of the End, on the Planet Draco, was a calamity even the Angels have a hard time just to seal him. His roar alone once reshaped mountains.

And then there was her mother, Gaia, once the Aboriginal Being of Earth herself. Though diminished from her prime, her mere presence could silence storms.

If what was growing within that dimension was even a fragment of such power, not to mention the Corrupted Mana.

"This...They can’t face an Aboriginal Being," Alice whispered, voice trembling between fear and fury. "Not yet... not alone"

She clenched her fists, her aura flaring like wildfire. "Erelythe! We need to-"

"Calm yourself," Erelythe interrupted, though her gaze never left the Gate. "Remember, if we move carelessly, the dimension could collapse from interference. Whatever is happening in there... they must resolve it from within"

Alice’s breath caught. She knew Erelythe was right; intervention could shatter the artificial dimension itself, trapping her siblings inside. She knew her siblings could survive. But knowing didn’t ease the dread clawing at her chest.

Her voice broke through the tension. "...Nāgāntaka!"

The world answered.

The air split with a resounding cry, a sound that shook the heavens themselves. The night sky blazed open as light burst from above, small at first, then swelling until the dark was drowned in radiance.

It was as though a second sun had risen in defiance of the moon.

The brilliance descended in silence, burning yet gentle. The warmth it carried wasn’t of heat, but of life itself, a pulse that soothed even Erelythe’s cold composure.

As the light receded, feathers of molten gold drifted down like embers.

Then he appeared.

Nāgāntaka, the Garuda, the bird of Legend.

Wings vast enough to shroud mountains, eyes like molten dawn, and a presence that made the air hum with reverence. His mere breath carried the scent of storm and sunlight.

"...What is it?" Nāgāntaka rumbled, his voice deep, ancient, yet calm.

Alice stepped forward, desperation flickering in her eyes. "Aska and the others, they’re in danger! There’s something inside that Gate, something that shouldn’t exist! Not in mere an Artificial Dimension!"

Nāgāntaka’s gaze turned toward the gate. For a long moment, he said nothing. Then, with a single slow blink, the glow in his eyes brightened.

"Hm," he murmured, a faint smile touching his beak. "An Aboriginal Being. A newborn, no less"

His feathers shifted, light rippling across them like waves. "Interesting... To think an Existence like that could be born within a sealed space like that, I don’t think this Dimension is as simple as they said"

"You can sense it, can’t you?" Erelythe said softly. "It’s incomplete. Formed from corruption and imitation, a false god attempting birth"

Nāgāntaka inclined his head slightly. "Incomplete or not, it is awakening"

Alice clenched her jaw. "Then you have to go in there! You can open a path, can’t you?"

Nāgāntaka’s laughter rumbled like distant thunder. "Of course I can. Even Erelythe can do it as well"

His massive wings unfurled, stretching wide enough to make the clouds tremble.

"But once I enter, the balance holding that realm together will shatter. If I force my way in, the Dimension itself will collapse. Aska and the others might survive, after all, they are the Master’s descendants, his blood runs strong in their veins, but they’ll be trapped within the Collapsed Dimension. They’ll live, yes... but when, or if, they can ever escape, that’s another question entirely"

Alice’s heart sank, her expression faltering. "...Then what can we do?"

Nāgāntaka turned his gaze toward Alice, his eyes glowing faintly.

"I was bound by soul to the Master," he said, his deep voice carrying both reverence and sorrow. "And you know what? Even though the Master isn’t here right now, he’s always protected them. He’s always been on their side, within their bodies, their blood... and their souls"

"Your point?" Alice asked sharply.

"I can manifest beside them," Nāgāntaka replied. "Not in full form, but as an astral projection. It will only carry a fraction of my true power, perhaps a quarter, but it will be enough"

Erelythe nodded once, her expression thoughtful. "A projection of your will, not your body. That should preserve the balance"

"Then do it!" Alice urged, her voice trembling with urgency. "Send your essence, anything! Just don’t let them face that thing alone!"

Nāgāntaka’s expression softened. His feathers glowed brighter, light pooling around his chest like the heart of the sun itself.

"Very well," he said, voice resonating through the night.

He spread his wings wide. With a single beat, the darkness shattered, and a sphere of golden radiance shot from his heart, piercing the Gate like a comet.

Alice’s hands trembled as she watched the light vanish into the Gate, her heart echoing its flight.

"...Hang on, my dear siblings," she murmured. "Help’s coming"

--------

- Back Inside the Artificial Dimension.

Back inside the Artificial Dimension, the world was chaos, a fractured earth, and a drifting mana like mist.

Askara stood amid it all, panting lightly, blood vapor curling from his blade. Around him, corpses lay, or rather, what should have been corpses. The cultists writhed even after being cut apart, limbs crawling, black ichor threading them back together. His Blood Echoes tore through them relentlessly, yet the moment they fell, the cultists reformed, eyes glowing with eerie devotion.

"Tch..." Askara clicked his tongue, parrying a strike that should’ve been impossible for the mangled body in front of him. The blow barely had strength behind it, they were weak, all of them, but their persistence was maddening.

"Why won’t you bastards stay down!,

He sliced through another neck; the head rolled, yet the body still reached for his leg before an Echo impaled it.

He could hear it, their voices. Behind him, Kiara’s Ice roared, Anggana’s flames hissed, and Litani’s blow sent a shockwave through the blizzard-like air.

Each attack struck the Newborn Aboriginal Being, yet even from here, Askara could feel the futility.

They weren’t losing, but neither were they winning.

Their fight was locked in a terrible balance, a deadlock where every strike only delayed the inevitable. The creature was learning, adapting, growing.

Askara’s eyes flickered crimson as he analyzed the battlefield.

’Something’s off’

He could tell. Even as he fought, his instincts screamed that the cultists weren’t trying to kill him. Their movements were sloppy, their coordination unnatural, but consistent, deliberate. They weren’t pressing him; they were... stalling.

’They’re holding back. Defending instead of attacking... like they’re buying time. But for what?’

He deflected another blow, his Katana trembling with condensed crimson energy. The cultist screamed something in a tongue he didn’t recognize, and then exploded into black mist, vanishing.

Askara froze.

’Wait! Since when were there fewer of them?’

His eyes darted through the fog. ’The one-horned mask is here. The three-horned mask hasn’t moved since the beginning. Then...’

His pulse spiked. ’The two-horned mask... where the hell are they?!’

He spun around, scanning the field, but the echoing clangs of battle drowned his thoughts.

Then it hit him.

The realization carved through his mind like lightning. His pupils contracted, voice breaking through the storm as he shouted.

"Fuck!! The target’s not us from the beginning!"

The words tore through the battlefield... Too late.

....

...

..

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