Near the northern end of the earth trench, the atmosphere was charged with anticipation and congratulatory wishes as the army continued its advance on horseback. The newly-promoted Great Elder Cedric was being commended by his fellow elders for his recent promotion and its strategic significance in the clan's political landscape.
"Congratulations on your well-deserved promotion, Great Elder Cedric. This achievement has provided our faction with a substantial advantage in the clan's internal politics," the elders expressed their congratulations and support as they rode through the plains towards the earth trench.
Cedric graciously responded, "Thank you, esteemed elders, for your unwavering support throughout this journey."
Amid the warm wishes, the conversation shifted towards a recent incident involving Edmund, and the elders exchanged amused observations. "The expression on Edmund's face when you turned around after assigning him the task of guarding the castle was truly a sight to behold. Even I couldn't help but feel a bit sorry for the young lad. He certainly received a series of shocks in a single day," one elder commented.
"Indeed, I also empathized with the boy's situation. Even the clan leader was quite shocked," another elder added.
Cedric shared a wry smile. "Thank you, my friends. Sometimes, the simplest solutions can yield the most effective results."
As the conversation continued, one elder inquired, "May I ask, Great Elder, how you managed to outmanoeuvre the boy?"
"It's rather straightforward," Cedric explained. "I took advantage of the opportunity when he went to arrange the funds, I paid off the informant. By the time he returned, it was already too late."
"Well played, Great Elder. Your strategy was impeccable," the elders praised.
Cedric then redirected their focus. "However, my esteemed elders, this is not the time for self-congratulation. Our primary objective now is to eliminate the Jackal. His head is crucial to our plans for overthrowing the current regime. We must be prepared to compete with our clan and the powerful Great Naga clan in this endeavour."
The conversation shifted to the seriousness of their upcoming mission. As the army advanced, the air was filled not only with anticipation but also with determination and the weight of the impending confrontation.
As the colossal army of the Nagas followed behind the Silver Fang clan's forces, tensions were high among their ranks. The Naga clan leader expressed his frustration and confusion regarding the situation they found themselves in.
"Explain to me how the Silver Fang clan managed to gain information about Geoffrey's whereabouts in the first place, and how they are now ahead of us," the Naga clan leader demanded, clearly displeased with the turn of events.
"Lord, the information regarding Geoffrey's location came from multiple sources, which we anticipated. However, it seems that the Silver Fang clan was able to take advantage of the situation as their location is closer to the earth trench," one of the Naga commanders explained.
“Hmm. As soon as our forces are in range, order our men to initiate long-range attacks. We must ensure that we reach the location before the Silver Fang clan secures Geoffrey's head."
Meanwhile, Alfred Thorne of the Silver Fang clan was navigating through the challenges posed by the earth trench. Despite facing frontal attacks and flanking assaults by the monsters within the trench, as well as the rearward pressure from the Nagas, he managed to maintain his composure.
"Geoffrey chose a truly treacherous location to hide. It's no wonder that he managed to evade detection for so long," Alfred Thorne thought to himself as he led his forces through the perilous environment of the earth trench. The combination of multiple threats and obstacles had considerably slowed down their progress, and the relentless pursuit of the Nagas was starting to close in.
As the two opposing forces converged within the earth trench, the situation grew more dire by the minute. The pursuit had escalated into a high-stakes race against time, with both sides determined to reach their destination first.
With Alfred Thorne leading his forces from the front, their determination and morale were boosted, creating an atmosphere of enthusiasm and unity among his troops. However, this was not the case for Cedric and his faction, who struggled to keep up with the pace set by Thorne.
As they approached the cave indicated in the report as Geoffrey's hideout, Alfred Thorne's forces had to endure losses along the way, but they finally reached their destination. Their eagerness to capture Geoffrey and secure their victory fuelled their charge, and they surged forward, their goal almost within their grasp.
The Naga clan leader, realizing the urgency of the situation, urged his troops not to let the Silver Fang clan charge ahead and reach Geoffrey first. The stakes were incredibly high, and whoever got to Geoffrey's head first would gain a significant advantage in their power struggle.
Both armies entered the cave one after the other, the tunnel leading them to the anticipated confrontation. At the end of the tunnel stood Geoffrey, seemingly unperturbed by the overwhelming forces that had arrived. Alfred Thorne was momentarily taken aback by Geoffrey's audacious stance, standing boldly in the face of their approaching army. He couldn't shake off the feeling that something was amiss, and his instincts told him that caution was necessary.
With a sense of urgency, Alfred Thorne commanded his troops to initiate long-range attacks. The cavern quickly became a chaotic battleground as ranged projectiles, spells, and attacks were launched toward Geoffrey. The cave echoed with the sounds of magic and weapons clashing, creating an intense and suspenseful atmosphere as both sides engaged in a fierce battle for dominance.
As the battle raged on within the cavern, the Naga clan leader recognized the protective barrier that surrounded Geoffrey, deflecting and neutralizing the incoming attacks launched by the Silver Fang clan. Despite his relief at Geoffrey's apparent defence, he still worried about the capabilities of the enemy leader, who possessed a formidable strength at the fourth chakra. Determined not to let victory slip through his fingers, the Naga leader commanded his forces to give their all and activated his own tantra to enhance the speed of his horse.
Alfred Thorne, leading the charge, felt the surge of power behind him, indicating the Naga leader's attempt to close the distance. Though he had already employed his own tantras to increase his pace, his abilities as a dhāmanapada (strength path) cultivator had their limitations when using tantras from other paths.
Using his expertise in the pavanapada (air path), the Naga leader utilized the vayu nihan tantra to create a vortex over his palm, compressing it with his qi before launching it towards Alfred Thorne's back. Sensing the impending attack, Alfred Thorne faced a dilemma—defending against the attack could cost him valuable time, potentially allowing the Naga leader to surpass him in the race to Geoffrey. Making a quick decision, he signalled to his loyal commander to intercept the incoming attack on his behalf. The loyal commander followed his leader's command, blocking the air bullet with his body only letting the residue bypass him and hit Alfred Thorne's armour, leaving a small dent. Grateful for his subordinate's quick response, Thorne focused on his primary objective—Geoffrey, the traitor, who was now within his grasp.
With determination in his eyes, Alfred Thorne's sword approached Geoffrey's neck, and victory seemed inevitable. However, at that crucial moment, there was a sudden shift in Geoffrey's demeanour. Lifelessness overtook his eyes, and he uttered a single word that sent shockwaves through the cavern—"RUN!!"
In an abrupt burst of intense red light, a shockwave surged through the cavern, enveloping it in an eerie darkness. Confusion and unease spread among those who bore witness, struggling to make sense of the bewildering sequence of events transpiring before them. Initially considering the possibility that Geoffrey had invoked a demonic tantra for his escape, their fleeting thoughts dissipated as the obscurity seemed to engulf their very awareness.
From the depths of the shadows, a distinct figure materialized, clad in resplendent red dragon armour and elegantly sheathing his sword—an aura of triumph surrounding him. Within the enveloping darkness, a voice resonated, expressing approval for Jeremiah's endeavours. Their interaction was succinct, unveiling a shared understanding of their goals and intentions.
As the conversation concluded, the figure shifted his attention to the gruesome scene—a mound of lifeless bodies, blood pooling on the cave floor, and an intricate formation absorbing the crimson flow. The question of whether this sacrifice would be sufficient lingered in the air. Jeremiah responded confidently, assuring that the price paid was more than enough for their purpose.
With a sense of purpose, the figure commanded Jeremiah to prepare the troops and secure control over neighbouring clans. The dissemination of information needed to be managed carefully, and the figure intended to oversee the revival of their leader, Lord Hubal. With a final statement, the figure disappeared from the cavern, leaving Jeremiah to his duties.
"My lord, rest assured that no unforeseen events will occur," Jeremiah declared with a bow. With deliberate intention, he disposed of Geoffrey's lifeless form among the heap of fallen bodies. Ensuring the cave was left in the hands of capable formation masters and commanders. Stepping outside the cavern with his men, the surroundings began to fill with a thick green fog, an eerie presence that hinted at the mysterious forces at play. The events within the cave were now part of a larger scheme, a tapestry woven with secrets and intentions that would ultimately shape the fate of all involved.
The hunting event was abruptly cut short, not enduring its customary three-day span. Students retired to their quarters, replaying the tumultuous events that unfolded. It wasn't until the following morning that they noticed the scoreboard remained unchanged from the previous day:
Ethan Throne - 9860 points
Serena Briggs - 2420 points
Henry Tudor - 1980 points
Rana Prathap - 1020 points
Irene Langer - 850 points
Many, unaware of the events that had transpired during the competition, were taken aback by the scores, as a lower-ranked student claimed the top spot, and there was a substantial gap between the first and second places. Initially, some thought it was an error, but their misconceptions were swiftly rectified as news of the competition spread.
Inside the headmaster’s office, tension filled the air.
“Who gave you the authority to display the scores?” Mahendra Varma's voice carried his frustration as he reprimanded the instructor.
“Sir, it's a long-standing tradition in the academy to publicly announce the hunting scores. Since you didn't specify otherwise, we followed the usual practice,” the instructor responded, attempting to explain.
“You dare speak in such a manner to your senior? I won't tolerate insubordination twice; consider this a warning,” Mahendra Varma reprimanded before letting the matter drop due to time constraints.
"I apologize, sir," the instructor replied, recognizing the gravity of his actions. However, his internal thoughts revealed his true feelings about his superior.
"Where are Ethan and Tzedek? Why haven't they arrived yet?" Mahendra Varma's impatience was evident.
“Sir, Malki Tzedek has been summoned for questioning by higher-ups,” another instructor interjected.
"And Ethan?"
"He's in seclusion for cultivation."
"Seclusion for cultivation?! Who authorized such a thing?"
“He had arranged for it prior to the competition. By the time we inquired, he had already entered seclusion,” the first instructor explained. As they were conversing, another instructor urgently entered the room.
"Sir, we've received a crucial report from the Order. We need to evacuate the students immediately."
"What? Why?" Mahendra Varma's concern deepened.
"We've received intelligence indicating an impending Asura assault on the academy."
"On a day like this... what a nuisance. How much time do we have?"
"According to the report, we've been instructed to immediately relocate the students to the inner circle. The Order of the Zaštitnik will defend the first two circles."
"Follow the orders. Begin preparations."
"Sir, what about Ethan?"
"What about him? This situation might actually be for the best. Hurry, we can't waste any time on trivial matters. We need to complete the evacuation by tonight."
Inside the cultivation chamber,
Yuvan was meticulously arranging everything for the Ārōhī vidhi. Prior to this, he had coordinated with Toby to bring him the cursed dagger immediately after the hunt concluded. Despite his injuries, Toby successfully procured the blade and had it ready in front of the cultivation room by the time Yuvan arrived.
As before, Yuvan positioned himself within the designated circle, carefully placing the dagger at its centre before initiating the formation. The entire room quivered with energy, and the formation itself appeared on the brink of collapse. Yuvan allocated a portion of his consciousness to the task, desperately trying to stabilize the formation and prevent its disintegration. Despite his efforts, the absorption process was sluggish, hindered by the cursed energy's reluctance to meld with Yuvan's essence. The procedure was proving more time-consuming than he had initially estimated, but he persisted in absorbing the energy at a measured pace, striving to maintain control throughout.
If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.
In front of the second gate, a scene of organized chaos unfolded. Students, neatly arranged according to their classes, stood in a collective sense of anticipation and unease.
Dominating the steps leading to the gate, Mahendra Varma commanded attention as he addressed the assembled students. His words carried gravity and urgency. "Dear students, I understand many of you are bewildered by this sudden gathering. Let me be clear: this is not a mere drill. I emphasize, this is not a training exercise. The Academy faces a genuine threat, an impending attack. To ensure your safety, we're initiating an actual evacuation. The first and second circles are expected to become battlegrounds due to the overwhelming numbers of the Asura forces. In order to safeguard you and avoid hindering the efforts of the 'Order,' we are relocating you to the third circle. I implore you to cooperate fully with your assigned mentors for a smooth and trouble-free evacuation." With his message conveyed, Mahendra Varma turned and approached the gate, positioning his hands upon its imposing surface. A surge of mana coursed through him, channelling into the gate. Witnessed by all, a brilliant blue fire ignited from Mahendra Varma's hands, surging forth and melding with the gate. Slowly, the colossal gate, standing two stories tall, began to open, revealing the path for a swift and orderly evacuation.
During the evacuation, Toby's concern for Yuvan compelled him to seek out Darryl Muller amidst the organized chaos. With a sense of urgency, Toby managed to catch up to Darryl as he navigated through the students.
Toby, his voice tense, addressed Darryl, "Sir, there's something about Ethan that you need to know. He's still..."
Darryl cut him off abruptly, his tone stern, "Ethan is not your concern right now. Return to your designated line immediately; you're disrupting the formation."
"But, sir, it's important. Ethan is in..."
Darryl's interruption was even more forceful, "I won't entertain any talk about Ethan. Follow orders and return to your line before I take disciplinary action."
Darryl had already faced repercussions from Mahendra Varma for Yuvan's actions during the hunt, after all, his student—whom he bragged about—killed an A grader. Mahendra Varma had taken disciplinary action against him for his student’s deeds, saying, “No Such Thing as Bad Student, Only Bad Teacher.” The event had tainted his pride as a teacher, and the name Ethan was now a source of discomfort for him.
As the evacuation process progressed and they entered the second circle, the structures mirrored those of the first circle, yet with noticeable upgrades. Even the tower, which appeared similar from a distance, was of higher quality and slightly larger. The pristine white marble from which it was constructed seemed to radiate with enhanced energy. The evacuation continued its course, unaware that Yuvan was secluded in his chamber, deeply absorbed in absorbing the cursed energy.
Upon reaching the third gate, the evacuation process encountered an obstacle. Mahendra Varma, taking the lead, confronted the guards stationed there, questioning their decision to close the gates despite knowing of the approaching evacuation. Annoyed by the situation, he dismissed the argument, realizing it was neither the time nor the place to engage in such debates.
Resolute, Mahendra Varma stepped forward, taking charge of opening the third gate himself. This gate's mechanism demanded not just a massive amount of mana, but also the projection of a potent inner qi force onto a specific point on the gate. It was a test of one's mastery over mana manipulation and control, truly measuring their expertise in this fundamental skill.
As a practitioner of dyotapada, the light path, Mahendra Varma positioned himself in front of the gate. His hands moved with precision, forming a lotus shape as he concentrated his energy into a ball of radiant light. Swiftly, he hurled the ball towards the gate's centre. The impact generated a brilliant red beam that struck the gate with resounding force, seemingly capable of obliterating it at any moment. This release of pent-up anger had a therapeutic effect on Mahendra Varma, and the guards' reaction to his display was an unexpected satisfaction. With the gates now open, he led the students into the third circle, progressing towards the safety it promised.
The Order of Zaštitniks had swiftly sprung into action within the confines of the first circle. Damon Zaccai, placed in a position of leadership, orchestrated the preparations to fortify the area as a defensive stronghold against the impending Asura assault. Focused on creating an impenetrable barrier against the incoming horde, they organized their strategies with precision.
Upon the tall walls, powerful mana cannons were positioned at equidistant intervals. Each cannon was manned by at least two individuals, ensuring their readiness to repel the enemy forces. Damon even released formidable beasts from the surrounding forest, instructing them to engage any adversaries other than the members of the Order.
Determined to fortify every aspect of their defence, Damon Zaccai issued unwavering orders. The walls themselves were reinforced with layers of mana, a meticulous process that demanded intense labour and dedication. Time was of the essence, and he spared no effort to ensure that every stone on those walls was imbued with strengthening energy. The urgency was palpable, with resources and manpower being allocated without hesitation. Damon's resolute goal was to create a stronghold that even a legion of Asura commanders would struggle to breach.
As Damon led the charge, he couldn't help but reflect on the historical significance of this moment. The Academy was facing an unprecedented assault, a consequence of their own complacency during an era of extended peace. Just as mighty predators might overlook the presence of a seemingly insignificant Griffon vulture soaring above, the Academy had overlooked potential threats. Now, they found themselves on the defensive against a relentless demonic Asura army, driven by a burning vengeance. The tables had turned, and their ability to rise to the challenge would determine the outcome of this tumultuous battle.
The Academy had made arrangements for the students' temporary lodging, forgoing individual rooms in favour of a communal hall. This spacious area was designed to accommodate all the students, with separate sections designated for male and female students at opposite ends of the hall.
Amidst this transition, word had spread about the tragic demise of Lucas Renfield, casting a sombre mood over the Academy. Among the students, Federick Renfield, a fourth-year student, was in search of Yuvan. The news of Lucas's death had reached him, and he sought to find Yuvan, likely to discuss the situation.
Navigating through the hall, Federick approached a group of first-year students, inquiring about the whereabouts of Ethan. Before he could get a clear response, an instructor intervened with a stern reminder of the current rules.
"Fourth years are not allowed in this area at this time. You need to leave and return to your assigned rooms," the instructor stated firmly.
Federick persisted, expressing his desire to see his friend. However, the instructor's patience waned as he reiterated the directive to leave.
Unwilling to provoke further conflict, Federick complied, turning to exit the area. As he departed, he directed a message to the first-year students, a mix of warning and concern, "I'll be back. Let him know he should be cautious."
In the confines of the cultivation room,
The passage of two days had seen Yuvan nearing the culmination of his absorption of the cursed energy. The addition of the newfound sattvapada (wisdom path) tantra to his repertoire had proven invaluable, as it provided him with the wisdom to navigate the treacherous blend of opposing energies. Gradually, the cursed energy was drawn into his being, its powerful and adverse nature subdued by his mastery.
As the final remnants of the cursed energy integrated with his own, Yuvan exercised patience, allowing the amalgamation to stabilize within him. The anticipation for the imminent culmination of his efforts weighed heavily in the air, signalling the approach of a significant moment that would undoubtedly shape his path ahead.
With the energies now stabilized within him, Yuvan's consciousness plunged into darkness. As he gradually regained awareness, he found himself standing amidst the remnants of a battlefield—likely the ruins of a clan's domain. This vivid scene was even more intense than his previous experience. The surroundings were shrouded in darkness, the absence of moonlight signifying it was an Amavasya, a moonless night. Yet, the fiery glow of burning structures cast an eerie illumination across the desolation.
At the heart of this bleak panorama stood Alha Udal, a figure of immense presence, clutching a glaive that bore the marks of battle's brutality. A grisly tableau lay before him, as the lifeless bodies of hundreds of fallen Asuras sprawled in a blood-soaked tableau. His once-flowing hair now hung in disarray, matted with both fresh and dried blood. Alha Udal's gaze swept over the aftermath, finally settling on Yuvan, a profound intensity in his eyes.
"Pay heed," Alha Udal's voice sliced through the heavy silence, his words laden with significance.
Alha Udal's grip on the glaive tightened, his focus shifting to the oncoming horde of Asuras. They converged upon him, forming a menacing circle that sought to engulf him. Amidst the throng emerged an Asura commander, a colossal figure that rivalled the stature of a mountain. Clad in thick, obsidian armour, he bore a massive zweihänder sword slung across his back—its length matched his own imposing frame.
With a voice like a tempest, the commander addressed Alha Udal mockingly, taunting him in the face of his dire circumstances. "Ah, Udal! Had you chosen to stand with us earlier, you might have avoided this pitiful fate. Your clan is but a shadow of its former self. Yet, I see no signs of your so-called allies from the righteous faction. Where are the champions of the Order of Zaštitnik? The self-proclaimed saviours of humanity—are they nowhere to be found? Have they forsaken you? Do they no longer deem you worthy of their cause? Can you not see their fear of your might, your potential to outshine even the first Sword Saint? Why remain loyal to a faction that fails to recognize your talents, your very existence?"
The commander's words dripped with mockery and scorn, challenging Alha Udal's loyalty. With calculated precision, he sought to undermine his convictions, raising doubts about his allegiance. "They are silent now, for they would rather see you dead than support you. They would let your clan crumble in their quest to eliminate you. Consider this, Glaive Lord, and ponder which faction truly bears the mark of darkness. It is not too late to alter your course. Join us, and you will stand unmatched, second only to Lord Hubal. Embrace the path of power, O Prince of the Dark Path."
"Is that relic of the past still breathing, even after all these years? Didn't he meet his end beneath the Sword Saint's strike?" Udal's words dripped with mockery, challenging the reality of the commander's existence.
"Don't you dare scorn the Great Lord Hubal! Your insolence shall bring you nothing but suffering. It was indeed the Sword Saint who met a pitiful demise, a fitting fate for the treacherous serpent who once called himself our Lord's brother," the commander retorted, a mixture of reverence and defiance lacing his words.
But Alha Udal remained resolute, his unwavering strength and potential to surpass even the first Sword Saint bolstering his conviction. "As you noted, I bear the potential to transcend even the first Sword Saint, a might surpassing your Lord's. Therefore, my answer remains as it did when 'The Order' came calling: 'Make me your leader, and I shall stand with you.'"
The Asura commander's response was swift and unyielding, driven by a deep-seated allegiance to Lord Hubal. "Such arrogance, even in the face of impending death. So be it, then. 'Make him suffer in the name of The Great Lord. All hail Lord Hubal!'"
Undeterred by the commander's fervour, Alha Udal embraced the forthcoming battle with a fierce determination. His glaive poised in readiness, he prepared to face the imminent onslaught. The battlefield's tension hung thick in the air, every breath charged with anticipation as the impending clash between Alha Udal and the Asuras loomed large.
In a swift and calculated motion, Alha Udal propelled his glaive toward the throat of the nearest Asura, exploiting the element of surprise to gain a crucial advantage. The Asura's momentary hesitation worked in his favour, allowing him to deftly twirl his glaive and sever the heads of the four other surrounding Asuras. However, he recognized the need to conserve his waning mana for the arduous battle ahead.
With a quick yet precise movement, Alha Udal enacted a ātatipada (dark path) tantra that he had developed. This tantra imbued his glaive with a sinister dark aura, channelling his internal energy to envelop the weapon. As his glaive slashed through the ranks of his enemies, the dark energy seeped into their bodies, inducing a slight disruption within their cores. Though the Asuras possessed the ability to cleanse foreign energy from their systems, the intrusion proved to be a distracting and unwelcome disturbance in the midst of battle.
In the realm of combat where split-second decisions determined life or death, any momentary distraction posed a grave risk. As the battle raged on, Alha Udal realized that precision and efficiency were paramount in dispatching his foes before they could exploit any opening he inadvertently created.
As Alha Udal's adversaries fell before him, their bodies dropping like discarded sacks, the imposing figure of the Asura commander Quintus Servilius strode forward, his voice echoing across the battlefield. "Halt, Alha Udal. I shall be your opponent. Let us settle this with a duel." The other Asuras stepped back, creating a space for the impending clash, their cheers resonating in the background as they left Alha Udal and Servilius alone in the centre of the battlefield.
With a swift and practised motion, Quintus Servilius unsheathed his towering Drachentöter from its resting place on his back. The massive black sword, standing at a towering six feet, seemed surprisingly manageable in his hands as he assumed a high guard stance, his intentions clear—he aimed to conclude the battle in a single, decisive strike.
Alha Udal's voice dripped with defiance. "Hooo! Underestimating me, are you?"
Quintus Servilius retorted, his tone filled with calculated confidence. "If I, in your current state, cannot dispatch an opponent with a single strike, it would reflect poorly on our esteemed ranks. Let us cease the idle banter and bring this to an end."
With the tension between them palpable, the battlefield seemed to hold its breath as the two warriors prepared to clash in a duel that would determine their fates.
"As you wish!" Alha Udal's determination ignited his charge toward Quintus Servilius, his glaive cutting through the air with a fierce determination, each step bolstering his momentum. As Servilius responded, a thunderous downward slash of his Drachentöter rents the air. The sheer force of the strike created a pressure difference that momentarily drew in the Asuras standing nearby, before hurling them away to either side. The forceful impact cleaved the ground, rending it apart to create a deep trench that claimed the lives of any unfortunate souls in its path.
In a swift counter-move, Alha Udal thrust his glaive forward, enveloping the blade in the remaining reserves of his Qi. The glaive's trajectory intercepted the path of the Drachentöter, causing it to veer slightly off course. The glaive's blade connected with the massive sword, and the collision sent sparks flying, illuminating the darkness with an ethereal glow.
As the clash subsided, Alha Udal's glaive managed to graze Quintus Servilius's face during its follow-through. The blade left a vicious, bloodied gash along Servilius's cheek, narrowly missing his eye. With a defiant tilt of his head, Servilius evaded the worst of the blow, the flesh wound a testament to his quick reflexes.
Servilius was consumed by rage, his anger at the graze on his face fuelling his fury. But Alha Udal was far from finished. Armed with a comparatively lighter weapon and a nimbler tantra, Udal had the advantage of agility on his side. The limitations of using a higher-ranked weapon and tantra became evident as Servilius struggled to recover from his previous strike.
In a fluid motion, Udal spun with his glaive, launching himself into another attack. His glaive was a blur of motion as he thrust it toward Servilius's exposed neck. Servilius was still in the midst of his follow-through, his massive sword sinking into the ground, rendering him momentarily defenceless. Caught off guard, he was in a vulnerable position, with his back exposed to his enemy.
A shiver of foreboding crept down Servilius's spine as he felt the chilling aura of impending death inch closer. He instinctively focused his Qi, creating a defensive barrier around his neck to ward off the attack. The Qi-infused blade of the glaive pierced through the protective mana shield, leaving a superficial yet stinging flesh wound on Servilius's neck. The sensation of the blade against his skin served as a stark reminder of how close he had come to a potentially fatal strike.
THUD!!
Amidst the intense battle, a figure clad in resplendent golden armour strode onto the scene. With a forceful swing of his mace, he struck Alha Udal, sending both him and his glaive hurtling through the air, far away from Servilius. The impact was fierce enough to disrupt the ongoing combat and change the dynamics of the engagement.
Yuvan, still immersed in the vivid scene unfolding before him, initially anticipated that this intervention might mark the end of Alha Udal's involvement. However, the narrative took an unexpected turn—Udal's survival defied the anticipated outcome. Despite the powerful blow he had received, Alha Udal remained in the fight, his tenacity undiminished.
"You've grown weak, Servilius," taunted the Asura commander who had intervened and struck down Alha Udal with his formidable golden mace.
"I had the situation under control; your interference was unnecessary, Boris!"
"Oh, I could clearly see that," Boris retorted sarcastically.
"What did you say?"
"I said I wasn't willing to take any risks. Let's wrap this up, unless you want to continue playing with him."
"Hmm! I intend to make him pay for defaming our great Lord. Bind him up," Servilius commanded his soldiers.
"This is the result of promoting someone who isn't qualified," Boris remarked, his gaze shifting to the lifeless and grievously injured bodies of the fallen Asuras. He watched as Servilius, his head held high, marched forward with the Asuras escorting the unconscious ode of Udal.
The setting shifted, and now Alha Udal was bound and surrounded by his clan members, who were being held hostage. Udal was slowly regaining consciousness.
"Sir, he's waking up," one of the Asura soldiers informed Servilius.
"Step aside!" Servilius commanded, pushing his way forward. He positioned himself in front of Udal, eager to witness his awakening.
"Coward! Duels are meant to be honourable!" Udal managed to mutter, summoning his last bit of strength as he locked eyes with Servilius's disdainful expression.
"What did you expect from a demonic faction?" Servilius retorted with a mocking tone.
Udal had anticipated such a response. He surveyed his surroundings, trying to grasp his location. He noticed his clan members nearby, though their numbers seemed significantly reduced. His gaze returned to Servilius, and if looks could kill, Servilius would have perished on the spot.
"Ooh, scary," Servilius jeered. "I know exactly what you're thinking, and no, we haven't killed the rest of your clan. In fact, the situation is much worse than your imagination. They've betrayed you! The elders of your clan struck a secret deal with the Order and other opposing clans. Together, they devised a plan to eliminate you, and that's where we come into play. Don't be so astonished; this isn't the first time we've been on this journey together. Before you, many others chose not to align themselves and met the same fate."
"Before you depart for the afterlife, let's have a bit of fun, shall we? Of course, in the company of your loyalists," Servilius sneered.
"Arrgh!"
With a swift motion, Servilius severed Udal's right hand and walked towards the clan members, clutching the hand. "Before bringing them here, I ensnared them in my jālaka (illusionary) tantra, hence their distorted appearance," he remarked coldly. He inserted a dagger into the severed hand and mercilessly drove it into the heart of a clan member.
"No! Lord, no! What wrong had your humble servant committed? Arrgh!" the victim's desperate screams echoed before succumbing to death.
"Nooo!" Udal's anguished cry filled the air.
"I pondered various methods to torment you, to humiliate you, to make you wish you'd never been born."
"Please, Lord, have mercy. Arrgh!"
"Physical torments are rather antiquated, and they fail to deliver the satisfaction I seek from someone like you."
"Please, lord. Please! Is this how you reward our loyalty? Arrgh!"
“By now you would have probably realised what my illusion does.” Servilius plunged the dagger into another victim, converting earlier pleas into venomous curses. "You joined forces with the Asuras, didn't you? Curse you! You malevolent... Arrgh!"
It's a twisted irony, isn't it? To them, it seems as though you're butchering them, and they're not entirely mistaken, are they? After all, it's your right hand that wields the blade. Muhahahaha... Do you get it?
"Please, stop!" Udal begged.
Ah, dear Udal, it's far too late for pleas now. And attempting self-destruction is futile; I've placed multiple inhibitors within you. Just sit back and relish the spectacle.
Amidst the valley, screams and curses reverberated. Servilius persisted in his slaughter until only Udal remained, his senses numbed by the relentless horror. Witnessing his loved ones meet such gruesome fates—feeling betrayed, misunderstood, and without a chance for correction.
"Executing these insignificant pawns one by one was tiresome, but your reaction; made the effort worthwhile. You now have my consent to meet your end."
With a chilling gesture, Servilius hurled the dagger at Udal. "Now, display the code of a warrior, Oh prince of darkness. Exhibit a demise that befits the tragedy you've suffered—let me have my catharsis."
Udal grasped the dagger with his sole remaining hand, his gaze locked onto Quintus Servilius. With unwavering determination, he plunged the blade into his own abdomen, dragging it horizontally from left to right, a deep incision forming. Undeterred, he proceeded to enact a second and even more agonizing cut—a vertical one this time. His entrails and blood cascaded forth, yet he pressed on. Performing the ancient code of the warrior, seppuku, he remained eerily composed despite the searing pain. But he wasn't done; summoning his remaining strength, he aimed the dagger towards the lower ribcage and thrust it upwards, piercing his own heart. A final, blood-soaked curse escaped his lips—directed at all who had wronged him: the Asuras, the Order, the betrayers within his own clan, and the righteous factions that had failed to answer his call. His scream reverberated against the sky, a single word carrying his unquenchable thirst for vengeance: "VENGEANCE!!"
"Sir, should I retrieve the dagger?" a low-ranking Asura inquired.
No, by now it's likely to be cursed. Its use would bring us more harm than good—especially in our own hands. Dig a grave, incinerate the bodies, and bury the remains. Our task here is done.