The wall crumbled.
Maze's hand reached out to grasp the magical energy. He could feel the ethereal tendrils linking his mind to the earth. Straining with the surge of power, he directed the energy, burying soldiers beneath the weight of rubble. Gasping for breath, he shifted his focus, scanning the chaotic scene for the next target.
But in an instant, a terrible force struck him square in the chest. Gravity seemed to vanish, propelling him forward into thin air.
"Maze!" Rose's voice called out in alarm as he plummeted through the void.
Crunch! Maze collided with the ground, his body finding a gap among the ranks of enslaved men. His arms clutched his chest, feeling his heart pounding beneath his trembling fingers. Gasping for air, he fought to regain his bearings. Lurching forward onto all fours, he coughed blood onto the grass, his vision blurred with pain.
Maze's frantic gaze darted around, taking in the chaotic scene. Behind him lay his fallen spell book, resting in a bed of grass. Beyond that, the remains of the wall lay in ruins, revealing glimpses of hundreds of terrified villagers screaming and fleeing for their lives. The world spun around him, disorienting and overwhelming.
A small group of soldiers, wielding spears, advanced toward the gap, cutting off any escape route. Maze found himself surrounded, trapped amidst the encroaching enemy.
"Damn it," he winced, feeling the throbbing ache in his lungs.
Kneeling up, he scrambled toward his spell book, his fingers tugging at the leather covers to free it from the ground. Maze looked up and noticed a strange disturbance—a small gap materializing within the throng of soldiers ahead.
Flicking through the pages of his book as quickly as he could, he searched for the spell he needed, all while keeping a vigilant eye on the newly created path within the enemy ranks.
A figure emerged from the midst of the soldiers, draped in a large, dark robe that concealed their features. The black hood shrouded their face in shadow, and tendrils of dark smoke wafted from the ends of the robes. Maze knew instinctively that it was the caster responsible for summoning the devastating energy spheres.
It had been ages since he had witnessed such a magnificent yet terrifying sight.
His aged eyes locked onto the blackened chain slung across the caster's back. Resting there was an event caster's book—a sight that sent a lump rising in Maze's throat, panic coursing through his entire being.
Black? Maze thought in disbelief. How can there be a black book?
The shadowy figure turned its gaze slowly toward Maze's direction, its hood offering no clue to its identity. With deliberate steps, it advanced, inching closer. Maze's eyes darted back and forth through his book, searching for a specific event, but the heightened panic made him realise he’d gone too far.
Robes rippled as the dark figure paused a few steps ahead of Maze. From somewhere beneath the hood, a low, menacing chuckle resounded, the voice gravelly and oddly windswept. "Hello, brother."
Maze's fingers froze on the parchment, his gaze lifting to meet the hooded figure before him. In the shadows lay an ancient, pale face, its eyes sunken deep into the skull, obscured by remnants of wicked scars. The figure smiled, a sight that made Maze's stomach churn. This once proud and handsome man had transformed into the embodiment of death and despair.
"Micholas? What? You were dead," Maze mumbled.
"Dead? Yes, I was. It’s been a lifetime, Romazen. How are you, little brother?" Micholas spoke without a trace of emotion.
"You are no brother of mine!" Maze retorted. "How are you still alive? What are you?"
"Questions, questions," Micholas chuckled darkly. "Let's just say I have some errands to run in the kingdom."
"Kingdom?" Maze stumbled over his words, his mind racing to make sense of the revelation. "The king. His madness. It was you!"
"No. The king and I have an understanding," the robed man replied, his smile sending shivers down Maze's spine. "Well, at least he thinks we do." In an instant, the hooded man turned away, only to strike Maze across the face without warning. The attack was savage, filled with a dark intent.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
Maze could only scream as pain exploded across his face, feeling the burn of the cursed black robes. He dropped his book as his feeble hands clutched at his face.
The fabric of the robes seemed unnatural, emitting smoke as it seared Maze’s skin, causing his muscles to cramp. Ground surged up as Maze collapsed, coughing and struggling to breathe.
Through blurred vision, he looked up, his gaze meeting the face of his long-lost brother. Micholas looked down at him with a smile devoid of joy.
⚔
Rose watched as Arthur charged forward; his pickaxe held aloft like a fabled weapon from the ancient stories. His roar filled the air as he tried to batter the soldiers aside, but their spears kept him at bay. Beside him, Charles ran with equal determination, wielding a long spear he’d pinched.
Despite their efforts, the soldiers were overwhelming them, preventing any progress.
Rose she glanced beside her and saw Ellie’s determined expression. They knew they had to find a way to close in on the enemy.
Rose pointed to the gap between the soldiers' spears and the ground. As fierce the soldiers may be, but the slave tonic had made the incoming soldiers predictable, and this was not a task suited for a giant like Arthur; stealth and speed were the key. Without another thought, Ellie mouthed, "Let's go."
With her knife in hand, Rose surged forward, darting through the chaotic battlefield. Just as she reached the spears, she skilfully ducked underneath the shafts and swiftly closed in on the distracted soldiers. Her knife struck deep into flesh as she dispatched the first soldier with precision.
Unarmed, Ellie joined the fray moments later, swiftly seizing a sword from an unsuspecting soldier's scabbard. With a determined thrust, she plunged the blade into his chest. The soldier fell silent after a few moments, succumbing to blood loss. Rose could only watch in astonishment as Ellie repeated this action, acquiring another sword and dispatching each attacker in quick succession.
To Rose's surprise, the soldiers remained unfazed by Ellie’s actions, their focus solely fixed on subduing Charles and Arthur. Rose's knife continued to strike, cutting down several more soldiers whose lifeless eyes stared off into the distance.
Finally, with a wide enough gap created by Charles's relentless assault, he mirrored Ellie’s deadly efficiency. The soldiers, now confounded, directed all their attention towards Arthur but fixated their gaze on Charles. The curse that had enslaved these men seemed powerful and had rendered their minds incapable of coherent thought.
Exploiting this vulnerability, Charles shoved the soldiers aside, widening the gap further, and the mindless men mindlessly complied.
“There his is!” shouted Rose.
The old storyteller was ahead of them huddled on the ground, clutching his face in agony, while a figure in a black robe towered over him, revelling in sadistic laughter.
"Maze!" Arthur bellowed; his voice filled with fury. With a snarl, the hulking man battered the remaining spears aside and sprinted toward them. Seizing a large spear, he jumped through the gap and hurled a fallen spear.
⚔
"Maze?" Micholas taunted, lazily evading the spear aimed at him. "Is that what they call you? Fitting, I guess."
The hooded figure slowly lifted his gaze toward the formidable figure of Arthur and smiled. The hood of his robe twitched with curiosity before he extended his arm, fingers flicking through the pages of his ominous black tome. A surge of dread gripped Maze as he watched obsidian sparks cascade down to his brother's concealed hand.
Instinctively, Maze's pain faded into the background as he flipped over and delivered a swift kick to Micholas's legs. The deadly energy that had amassed in Micholas' hands soared skyward as another spear hurtled through the air.
Snarling, Charles appeared somewhere in Maze’s vision and in a split second, the sharpened weapon impaled Micholas in the chest, sending him crashing to the ground. Seizing the opportunity, Maze rolled toward his fallen book, its desired page now within reach. A spark of hope ignited within him.
"Maze!" Charles skidded to a stop beside the storyteller.
"Here!" Maze shouted, clutching Charles' arm. "I don't have the strength for this."
In the periphery of Maze's vision, a horrifying sight unfolded. Micholas rose to his feet, the weapon still embedded in his chest. His hood had fallen, exposing his grotesquely disfigured skull. The back of his head was missing, replaced by a festering mass of decaying flesh and what appeared to be blackened tree roots. Maze fought back a wave of nausea.
"What now?" Charles demanded.
Arthur stood over the two brandishing his pickaxe and swung at the nearby soldiers, while Rose and Ellie covered the gap in the wall.
"This!" Maze called out, desperation fuelling his words. "Think. Grow!"
Charles slammed his hand down on the book beside Maze. In an instant, a radiant green tendril sprouted from the ground, snaking its way between them. It twisted and writhed like a living serpent, growing at an astonishing rate. Leaves sprouted into existence as the plant rapidly expanded, multiplying and stretching out in all directions.
Their hands fell away from the pages of the book as the flourishing vine pushed Maze's tome to the ground, now serving as its roots. Soldiers were battered away as easily as ants before the rapid growth, expanding into impenetrable roots as thick as trees.
Charles moved to retrieve the book, but Maze pulled him away.
"Leave it," Maze commanded, his voice firm. "It will continue to fuel this event. We must go. Now!"
Maze stumbled forward, and with Charles' help, they distanced themselves from the proliferating vines. Charles watched in awe as the ever-expanding wall of vegetation swallowed the sight of Micholas and the entire army within seconds. The vines extended along the Bran wall with blinding speed, forming a formidable barrier.
"Arthur," Maze spoke softly, his frail body burdened with exhaustion.
"What's wrong?" Arthur pleaded.
The old man coughed; his voice strained, "run." And with that, he slumped to the side.