Chapter 137: A Legend's Shadow
Lady Clarke’s heart pounded, blood racing through her veins like a war drum. Every cell in her body seemed to vibrate with battle intent as she hovered above, her wings spread wide.
Below stood the Legend Knight—Gillian Cross. The Last Winter. The man whose name carried the weight of centuries of battle, and whose aura alone froze entire armies. Even now, with his power suppressed to match hers, the sheer force of his presence set her nerves alight.
Clarke’s lips curled into a grin, gratified and unrestrained. This was what she lived for—this pounding in her chest, this fire in her soul. Not just a duel, but a chance to test herself against a legend. A fight that would push her to her limits. Her fingers flexed against the shaft of Mountain Crusher, the dark energy pumping through the hammer in sync with her racing pulse.
“Finally,” she muttered under her breath, the words barely a whisper.
Her eyes burned as she locked onto his, the battle between their auras making the air crack with water and earth mana. Every fiber of her being screamed for the fight ahead.
She flapped her wings once.
A single, thunderous beat sent cracks rupturing through the frost. Her voice cut through the air, sharp and excited. “You ready, old man?”
Gillian tilted his head, his frozen helm catching the light. Despite his calm demeanor, Clarke could feel it—the rising storm within him. A predator answering her challenge.
“I wonder,” he said, his voice a cold whisper. “Will you burn out before you break?”
Clarke’s grin widened, teeth bared.
She dove, the air splitting around her as her black wings propelled her. The distance between them vanished in an instant. Mountain Crusher swung down like a falling meteor, the sheer force of her attack visibly splitting the air.
Gillian sidestepped, his longsword meeting the hammer’s descent with a controlled, effortless block. The clash sent shockwaves across the field, shattering the surface of ice beneath them. Clarke’s momentum carried her past him, but she twisted mid-air, wings flaring, and launched back instantly.
The air erupted with the clash of sword and hammer. Clarke’s strikes were faster, each swing fueled by her armor, her speed a blur. Gillian moved like water, his blade deflecting her attacks with minimal effort. Every parry flowed into the next, his calm demeanor unshaken even as her strikes exploded the area around him.
Due to her armors ability, her senses sharpened, every fiber of her being vibrated as it pushed her body past its limitations. She pressed harder, her attacks faster, heavier. Gillian’s frost-coated aura began to creep across the field, chilling the air with every movement. Clarke felt her limbs stiffen slightly as the cold nipped at her, but she pushed through, her battle intent amplifying her movements with every strike.
Gillian’s sword danced in perfect arcs, each motion designed to drain her stamina. A feint forced her wide, and his aura surged. Frost exploded outward, encasing the ground in jagged spikes that forced her to take flight again. The cold clawed at her strength, and she gritted her teeth. “You fight like a shield knight!” she spat, diving back in.
He smiled faintly. “And you burn like a wildfire.”
Clarke’s disgust and aura flared, her movements becoming more intense and unpredictable. Using her wings as cover, she feinted left and swung low, her aura condensing on her hammer. For the first time, Gillian’s stance adjusted.
The hammer struck the ground, but the force wasn’t aimed at him directly. The impact sent a shockwave through the earth, cracking the frozen terrain and sending debris flying. A sharp boulder surged upward, aimed squarely at his chest. Raising his hilt, he deflected it, but the motion threw him off balance.
'Opening!'
Surging forward, she twisted Mountain Crusher upward, the hammerhead connecting with his blade. Sparks and shards of ice erupted between them as the force sent Gillian sliding back several meters.
Stabbing his blade into the ground, he steadied himself. Frost swirled around him, a flicker of surprise crossing his cold expression. “Impressive. Seems I've underestimated your worth as a concubine.”
Grinding her teeth, Clarke dove in, her hammer swinging as each strike roared through the air. Her speed forced Gillian to meet her with flawless precision. His blade moved like a phantom, every deflection fluid, every counterstrike timed to exploit the smallest gap. Yet, no matter how he shifted, her aggression kept him on the defensive.
The battlefield quaked under their duel. Hammer and sword collided, sending shockwaves that ripped through the ground. Frost spread with every step Gillian took, his calm expression betraying nothing as he met her raw power with honed technique.
As Berthold watched from the sidelines, his breath caught in his throat. His focus darted between them, his expression shifting wildly between shock and relief. “She’s… keeping pace,” he spoke to himself in disbelief, “But for how long?”
Clarke gained altitude with a snap of her wings, soaring high above the frozen destruction. Her yellow aura burned brighter as she gripped Mountain Crusher with both hands. “Fissure Cleave!” she roared, the words crackling with mana.
Her descent was instant, the air splitting with thunder. Flying close to the ground, her hammer struck, dragging its massive head across the earth as she swung upward in a vicious arc.
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The impact was cataclysmic. A surge of earth mana ripped through the frozen terrain, erupting outward in a cone of raw destruction in an instant. The ground split and buckled, jagged shards of stone and dirt exploded in all directions.
Gillian moved. His footwork was unreadable, each step precise and deliberate as he danced through the attack with ease. The earth shattered around him, but not a single shard touched him.
“Winter's Blade,” he said coolly, his frost aura surging. With a single, effortless motion, he slashed his longsword forward. A line of ice erupted from the blade, growing rapidly as it surged toward Clarke, straight and unrelenting. The freezing mass consumed the ground in its path, reaching her in the blink of an eye.
Clarke’s expression hardened as the glacier roared toward her. She gritted her teeth, slamming her hammer into the ground. “Shade!”
Dark energy surged through Mountain Crusher, its head glowing with a menacing light.
The hammer smashed down with an earth-shaking blow, causing the earth to erupt and meet his attack. The collision redirected it skyward, the glacier of ice shattering into countless frozen fragments.
As the dust and ice settled, the battlefield stilled, the air heavy with anticipation. Clarke straightened, her chest heaving as she steadied her grip on her weapon. Across from her, Gillian stood tall, his icy helm unbroken, his calm gaze fixed on her.
Neither spoke. The fight was far from over.
Smirking, Clarke’s chest heaved as her aura stayed firm, rumbling with intensity. Her muscles screamed in protest, her armor amplifying her every motion but exacting a steep toll in return. 'I don’t have much time. Feels like my body's tearing apart.' Though powerful, the magic coursing through her armor burned her stamina like dry tinder. Minutes were all she had left. This needed to end.
With a sharp flap of her wings, she launched into the air, ascending beyond his reach. Her hammer began to glow, her aura pouring into it with focused intensity. The Dusk-Iron Raven’s essence and mana merged with her own, amplifying the earth element surging through her. The weapon vibrated violently, the raw energy within seeking release.
Below, Gillian stood motionless, watching her preparations with an icy calm. His aura swirled around him like a blizzard on the verge of breaking. “Risking it all already?” His voice carried a note of amusement, though the irritation on his face betrayed his intent. “That armor must have quite the appetite. So be it. I was starting to enjoy myself, but this suits my taste as well.”
Without fanfare, Gillian raised his arm—a simple, casual motion. The blade of his sword caught the light, mana rippling along its length. The air around him grew colder, sharper, the ice creeping outward like living tendrils.
Watching from a distance, Berthold’s voice broke the tension. “He’s not…” His breath hitched, his face paling as realization struck. “Father! You’ll kill her!”
His words fell like stones into the roaring storm of the battlefield. Neither combatant wavered. If anything, Clarke’s battle intent surged, her battle intent raging brighter. The fire in her eyes only deepened as she stared at the Legend Knight. Above her, the hammerhead trembled violently, light pooling in its surface like molten gold.
Gillian responded with an icy smirk, his aura condensing as he began channeling it to the tip of his blade. “I will honor your efforts today, Mountain of Floeur d'Alene. Few alive have witnessed this Knight Skill. I created it myself after a century of solitude, studying the sword within the cold embrace of absolute zero. It is the skill that made me the strongest Free Knight Gaia has ever known.”
Above, Clarke finished her preparations. The hammer’s head glowed with a fierce amber light, radiating a heat so intense it caused the frost around her to hiss and steam. Though her arms remained steady, the hammer vibrated with uncontrollable energy, its power eager to be unleashed.
She raised it high, her voice cutting through the charged air with the weight of the world itself.
“GAIA’S DESCENT!”
Instantly, Berthold staggered back, the force of the earth mana eruption nearly knocking him to the ground. Winds whipped violently around him, debris swirled in the chaos as he shielded his face. His eyes widened, awe spilling into his voice. “How big… can it get?”
Before him, Mountain Crusher transformed. The hammerhead expanded, growing like a mountain erupting from the sky itself. The sheer size of it cast a massive shadow over the castle grounds, darkening the battlefield. The earth groaned beneath its weight, fissures spreading outward in jagged lines as the weapon's presence alone threatened to reshape the land.
It wasn’t just a name—it was a promise. Mountain Crusher could break the very bones of Gaia.
Across the battlefield, Gillian’s laughter rang out, deep and unrestrained, cutting through the howling winds. With deliberate ease, he reached up, removing his frost-coated helm and casting it aside. His long white hair and beard whipped wildly in the chaotic winds, his icy aura spiraling tighter around him, compressing into something sharper, deadlier.
The ground beneath him shattered, the frost retreating as the immense weight of Clarke’s attack began its descent. Yet Gillian stood firm, a calm storm at the heart of the chaos. His blade, held steady before him, glowed with a cold, lethal light.
“My sword is my heart,” he declared, his voice booming over the roar of mana. “My body is the ice that tempers its sharpness…” He shifted his stance, his aura compressing further until it pulsed like a beating heart. The frost along his blade crystallized, forming razor-thin lines that contained the eternal sword-heart of the Last Winter.
"Endless Pierce."
Gillian’s sword roared, a single thrust carrying the weight of his entire life.
Mana from the blade screamed through the air, transforming into a massive, spiraling sword of frost. It cut through the storm of Clarke’s aura like a predator, aimed directly at the heart of her attack. The frost twisted and grew with terrifying speed, leaving a trail of frozen air in its wake as it collided with the descending hammer.
A deafening clang of metal split the air, accompanied by an even sharper, ear-piercing ting as Gillian's Knight Skill met Clarke’s. The battlefield erupted, ice and earth exploding outward in violent waves, colliding with a force that obliterated everything in its wake.
Berthold stood far from the collision of mana, his armor now fully manifested as well as his mana-forged. A massive shield of ice stood before him, but even that groaned under the combined attacks. Chunks the shield were being destroyed, some shattered by impacts, others pierced clean through. He grit his teeth, unable to speak the attack before he summoned it, the shield was weaker than he needed, his mana draining rapidly as he fought to maintain his Knight Skill.
The chaos raged on, the shattering ice and crumbling earth blending into a singular, deafening roar. Berthold closed his eyes, his ears ringing, each breath labored. The vibrations from the battlefield shook his very bones.
But thankfully, it began to fade.
The violent howls of wind and mana died to a low hum, the ground settling beneath his trembling feet. Berthold's chest heaved as he let the remnants of his shield crumble, shards of ice falling uselessly to the ground. His ears still buzzed, muffling the world around him. But amidst the ringing, a sound broke through—a heavy clang, metal striking stone.
Something landed beside him.
He opened his eyes slowly, blinking away the blur as his senses returned. The devastation before him was incomprehensible—jagged terrain, scorched earth, and frost-coated debris littered the landscape. But his gaze was drawn downward, to the source of the sound.
His heart froze. There, barely a meter from him, lay something unmistakable.
Clarke’s severed arm.
----
At the same time, deep within the hidden depths of Gaia, Darius sat in closed-door cultivation. His body was steady in the lotus position, surrounded by piles of shimmering crystals. Their once-imposing size had noticeable shrank, the faint tune of mana radiating from them had grown quieter with each passing day. Huge waves of elemental mana peeled away from the crystals, flowing into him with each measured breath.
Above, the fifteen leylines hovered frozen in the skies of Agarttha. Streams of the five elements cascaded down like waterfalls, drenching the cave below in an endless downpour of raw power. Time seemed to stand still within this sacred convergence. Darius’s black messy hair was longer now, the streak of white in his bangs more prominent, his only physical change over the passage of months.
Breathing in a precise rhythm, steady and unbroken, his eyes remained closed, his expression calm. Though his mind was anything but idle. Part of him was immersed in the intricate process of his cultivation technique, while another worked tirelessly to decipher the complexities of his personal runic language. The air around him bent with the weight of his focus, his aura pulsing in a quiet yet powerful pattern.
Abruptly, a faint shift disturbed the stillness. Dust stirred on his skin as Darius’s eyes fluttered open, the deep azure within them igniting as his brows furrowed. He tilted his head slightly, his expression sharpening. “What was that?”
Remaining motionless for a moment, his senses extended, searching for the source of the disruption. The leylines continued their silent descent above, unchanged. Yet something lingered—a faint ripple that had passed through the air, the kind that couldn’t be easily dismissed.
'It felt like something changed... but what?' The thought echoed in his mind, his focus momentarily broken.
After a long moment, he closed his eyes again, dismissing the unease. 'Whatever it was, it has to wait. This path demands clarity, distractions will only hinder.' He drew a deep breath, centering himself once more.
The leylines above ignited faintly in response as he redirected his attention, their endless mana pouring down in torrents. His multicolored aura expanded, syncing with the mana around him. He pushed the strange sensation to the back of his mind and focused entirely on the task at hand.
In this moment, there was only cultivation.