CHAPTER 167: CECELIA’S ELDER BROTHER!

The beasts circled around her in the forest. Snarls rumbled from their throats, low and guttural, vibrating through the air.

Their claws scraped against stone and bark, the sound sharp and grating, like jagged steel being dragged over bone. Each scrape sent a chill up Elysia’s spine.

Drool hung in long strands from their bared teeth, glistening faintly under the dim forest light that filtered through the canopy above.

Their eyes glowed faintly with something unnatural—like the fading embers of a dying fire. They were patient, too patient, moving one step at a time. Every step was a reminder of what she already knew.

She became their prey.

Her grip tightened on the Oathblade. The runes etched across its surface pulsed faintly, almost as if the sword itself was breathing with her, sharing her tension.

Her chest rose and fell, quick and uneven. She could hear her own heartbeat, pounding against her ribs like a drum calling her to war.

Then, without warning, the closest beast lunged.

(All my mana and strength are exausted)

It was a wolf-like monster, but larger than any wolf she had ever imagined—its shoulders broader than a man’s chest, its fur dark and matted with dried blood.

Bony ridges jutted along its spine like jagged armor, each spike tipped in a pale, unnatural white.

Elysia moved on slowly and slowly.

Her stance twisted just enough, the Oathblade rising at the perfect angle to meet its strike.

Steel and claw collided with a violent spark. The beast’s claws dragged across the glowing blade, screeching as if the metal itself resisted corruption.

She braced her legs and shoved forward, forcing the creature back with a cry that tore from her throat.

The wolf stumbled, its claws tearing furrows into the dirt as it skidded back. But it didn’t fall. It only snarled louder, froth bubbling at its lips.

Elysia’s chest burned with the effort, but she didn’t have time to breathe.

Another beast moved.

From the side, a lizard-like beast rushed forward.

Its body was lean, scaled in sickly green, with twin horns curling upward from its skull. Its yellow eyes burned with malice.

Its tail lashed like a whip, cutting through the air with a crack that made the trees shudder.

Elysia ducked low, the strike missing her head by a hair’s breadth. The force of the tail still brushed past her, throwing dust into her eyes as she rolled across the soil.

Her lungs stung with grit, but she didn’t falter. She came up in one smooth motion, blade flashing.

The Oathblade’s runes flared as she slashed upward in a rising arc.

Steel bit into flesh.

The lizard’s scream was shrill, like glass breaking. Black blood gushed from its side, spraying across the ground.

The drops sizzled where they landed, hissing against the glowing runes of her blade as though the weapon refused to be tainted by its corruption.

Elysia staggered back, her chest heaving.

And then she felt it.

The orb.

Its energy pulsed in her chest like fire once again. It rushed through her veins, hot and wild, a storm urging her forward.

Her hands steadied. Her legs stopped trembling. The whispers of exhaustion were drowned out by a voice inside her—a steady, unyielding rhythm.

The rhythm... feel their rhythm...

Her eyes narrowed. She could see it now.

The way they circled.

The way their claws dug into the ground before a leap.

The way their breathing shifted a second before a strike.

It wasn’t random.

It was a pattern.

And if she could see it, she could break it.

She adjusted her stance, feet light, blade angled forward. The beasts snarled, circling faster now, as though sensing that their prey was no longer quite so helpless.

Elysia swallowed hard. Her throat was dry. Her arms were heavy. But the fire in her chest would not let her fall.

"Come," she whispered under her breath and her voice almost lost to the growls around her.

"I can keep fighting..."

And when the next beast lunged, she was already moving.

She could see it—the patterns of their movements, the hidden dance of aggression and hesitation.

The orb lent her clarity, each strike guiding her hands like she was not alone in the fight.

Her body became a conduit, her Oathblade a whisper of light in the darkness.

But for every beast she struck down, another pressed closer.

Claws scraped against her shoulder guard, tearing through cloth and biting into skin. She gritted her teeth against the pain, twisting and shoving the attacker away.

Her breaths grew heavier. Sweat streamed down her brow, stinging her eyes, and every swing of the Oathblade grew heavier.

The orb pulsed violently, its heartbeat loud in her ears. The giant phantom figure flickered behind her again, its towering outline shimmering faintly as if ready to materialize.

Elysia’s lips tightened. She knew she could call it—one more devastating blow, enough to scatter these beasts into nothing but dust and blood. But the cost...

Her mana was already drained, her body trembling from the strain.

If I use it again... I might not stand afterward.

The wolf-beast lunged again, its fangs missing her neck by a mere breath. She ducked under, slashing at its underbelly, but the counter left her open.

A lizard-beast slammed into her from the side, sending her sprawling across the dirt. The Oathblade clattered but she held onto it, dragging herself up on one knee.

Twelve of them. Twelve feral monsters with no fear of death, driven by some primal rage to avenge the one that had fallen earlier.

Her chest heaved. Her arms felt like lead. She whispered under her breath, almost a prayer, "There are more of them... and I won’t be able to face them alone. I need... I need another way..."

The circle tightened.

Claws scraped the ground. The air vibrated with their snarls. Elysia raised her sword, her knees threatening to give way beneath her.

And then—

A horn’s call split the forest air. Deep, commanding, like thunder rolling through the trees.

The beasts froze for the briefest moment, their ears twitching toward the sound. Shadows moved between the trees.

Then they came.

Figures burst from the treeline, armored in polished steel that gleamed under the faint light, banners snapping in the air.

At the front rode a young man with hair the color of midnight and eyes sharp as obsidian. At his side marched fifteen bodyguards, the Erainlia, their formation was as precise as a blade’s edge.

They moved like a tide, shields raised, spears and blades thrusting in perfect rhythm.

"Form the line! Do not let a single beast slip through!" the man commanded, his voice like a crack of authority.

The Erainlia obeyed without hesitation.

The forest erupted into chaos.

Steel clashed against claw. Shields bashed against fangs. Spears pierced scales and fur alike. The beasts howled in fury, but they were no longer circling prey—they were trapped against a wall of discipline and strength.

Elysia staggered to her feet, Oathblade still in hand. For a heartbeat, she stared in disbelief. Then instinct roared to life. She charged forward, blade humming with rune-light, and joined the formation’s rhythm.

Together, they struck.

She cut down one of the wolf-beasts that tried to break through the shield wall, her Oathblade slicing clean through its neck.

Another lunged for the commander himself, but his blade flashed in a brutal arc, severing its head in a single stroke.

His movements were refined, efficient, and utterly merciless.

The Erainlia fought as though they were one body, their shields locking together, their spears thrusting in perfect unison.

Every time a beast tried to leap over them, a blade rose to meet it midair. Every time claws raked against steel, a counterstrike punished the attempt.

Elysia moved between them, her blade a crimson-and-gold arc of death. Though her body screamed in protest, she couldn’t stop. With their support, every strike found its mark, every parry became easier.

Minutes stretched like hours. The forest floor became a battlefield of blood and broken branches. One by one, the beasts fell.

The last of them—a horned tiger-like monster—let out a defiant roar before charging directly at the commander. The man stood tall, his black hair whipping in the air as he raised his blade.

With a single thrust, guided by perfect timing, he pierced through the beast’s throat.

It collapsed with a final, shuddering growl.

Silence fell.

Only the sound of heavy breaths, the drip of blood onto soil, and the faint hum of Elysia’s Oathblade remained.

She swayed on her feet, lowering her sword slowly. Her body trembled from the exhaustion, but her eyes lifted toward the man at the center of the formation.

Her breath caught.

"...You...?" she whispered.

he turned, his obsidian eyes meeting hers. Recognition flickered in them, sharp and surprised.

"Elysia."

Her chest tightened. She hadn’t expected to see him here of all places. Cecelia’s elder brother—his presence was undeniable. The air around him carried authority and weight, like a mountain cloaked in steel.

She struggled for words, but he spoke first.

"I did not expect to find you here, fighting alone against beasts of this rank." His gaze flicked to her trembling arms, to the faint glow of the Oathblade, then back to her weary face.

"You’ve changed."

Elysia swallowed, lowering her sword. "And I did not expect... you. It’s been..."

Her words faltered. The last time she had seen Cecelia had been more than a month ago. Her heart twinged with unease.

His expression softened just slightly, though his posture remained steady. "You haven’t seen my sister, have you?"

Elysia shook her head, biting her lip. "...No. Not for over a month. I’ve been wondering if she was safe."

He exhaled slowly, a sound between relief and reassurance. "She is fine. My sister is safe. Circumstances kept her away, but you need not fear for her."

At that, a weight lifted from Elysia’s chest. Her grip on the Oathblade eased, and she let out a shaky sigh.

"...Thank you," she murmured. She lowered her gaze briefly, then looked back at him, her eyes still glowing faintly with rune-light.

"If not for you and your guards... I wouldn’t have survived. Truly. Thank you."

One of the bodyguards stepped forward, bowing slightly.

"It was our honor, Elysia. But you fought bravely, more than most could endure alone."

Erianlia gave a small nod, his sharp gaze softening again as he studied her.

"Rest. You’ve carried yourself far enough."

For the first time since the beasts had appeared, Elysia let her body relax.

The Oathblade’s light dimmed, its hum quieting as though even the sword acknowledged her need to rest.

The battlefield, littered with fallen beasts, carried the stench of blood and smoke. Yet within that ruin, Elysia stood alive—alive because of her will, and because of the help that had come when she needed it most.