Chapter 103
Lucas sat with his back against the stone, watching Ashely's chest rise and fall. The bloodline seal pulsed faintly beneath her collarbone, the web of light steady now, fully charged. Her wound had closed completely, the flesh pink and new where the corruption had been burned away. She would wake soon.
He waited.
Her eyes opened. For a moment, she simply stared at the rock ceiling above them, her breathing slow, her mind piecing together what had happened. Then she turned her head, finding him in the darkness.
"The seal," she said. Her voice was hoarse.
"Holding."
"The beast?"
"Free."
She closed her eyes again, just for a moment. When she opened them, they were clear. "The plan."
Lucas met her gaze. "I will finish things with Scarlett and the blue haired guy."
Ashely's expression did not change. "Alone."
"You'll be safer here than with me. Plus, your goal should only focus on sealing the beast don't worry about me."
She studied him for a long moment. Then she nodded once and she pushed herself up, her hand pressing against the wound that was no longer there. The healing had been complete.
Lucas stood, offering his hand, she took it.
The team had been waiting.
When Lucas's clone dissolved on the road, when the lightning clone of the Queen flickered and vanished, Ethan had not needed to speak. Austin was already moving, Kaya was already running. They had left the decoy formation behind.
They moved through the mountain passes at full speed, the terrain blurring beneath them. Austin's fire wings lit the darkness, casting long shadows across the stone. Kaya's lightning body crackled, her movements sharp and precise. Ethan led, his wind spells clearing the path ahead, pushing them faster.
Hours passed. The peaks grew sharper and the valleys deeper.
They reached the place where the valleys opened into a wide basin. Ethan slowed, his hand raised.
They stopped.
Three figures stood in their path.
The first was a woman with white hair cut short against her scalp. Her eyes were the color of old ice, pale and cold, and they held no warmth as she studied the three elites before her. She wore armor that seemed to shift with each breath, plates of something that caught the light and held it, bending it into shapes that hurt to look at. Her arms were bare, covered in scars that formed patterns—not random, but deliberate, as if someone had carved meaning into her skin. She stood at the center of the path, unmoving, her presence pressing against Ethan's senses like a mountain, A 9-star.
The second was a man with hair the color of rust. A long scar split his lip and climbed to his ear, twisting his face into something that might have been a permanent sneer. He wore no armor, only dark clothes that clung to a frame that was too lean, too sharp, the bones of his shoulders visible beneath the fabric. His hands hung at his sides, empty, but Austin could feel the mana coiled there, dense and waiting. He was watching Austin with eyes that held no fear, only the patience of something that had waited a very long time. An 8-star.
The third was younger, or looked younger. His black hair fell across his face in uneven strands, hiding one eye. The other was golden, bright, almost feverish with something that might have been excitement or madness. He wore a long coat that dragged on the ground behind him, its edges frayed, stained with something dark. He held a short blade in each hand, the metal black, the edges chipped, worn down from use. He was grinning, A 7-star.
The white-haired woman spoke first. Her voice was low, flat, carrying no emotion. "You are not going anywhere."
Ethan's hand moved to his sword. "Step aside."
The woman smiled. It did not reach her eyes. "We were told to waste your time and kill you guys if possible." She tilted her head, her gaze moving slowly across the three of them
Austin's fire wings flared brighter, the heat rolling off him in waves that made the air shimmer. "We're not here to talk."
The scarred man's hands rose slightly, the mana in them shifting, coiling into something sharp. "No," he said, his voice a low rasp. "Neither are we."
The young man with the golden eye laughed. It was a light sound, almost friendly, out of place among the rocks and the cold wind. "Finally," he said, spinning the blades in his hands. The black metal caught the light, flashing once, twice.
The white-haired woman raised her hand. Her fingers spread, and the air around her grew heavy, dense, pressing down on the stone beneath her feet until it cracked.
The scarred man's mana surged, rising around him like a wall of compressed air, ready to be released.
The young man's blades spun faster, a blur of black steel, his grin widening.
Ethan drew his sword. The wind rose around him, sharp and fast, tearing at the stone beneath his feet, lifting dust and small rocks into the air.
Austin's flame wings spread wide, fire blooming along his arms, his short sword Emberclaw already burning white-hot in his grip. The heat from his body made the air between him and the rust-haired man waver.
Kaya's lightning body flared, arcs of electricity jumping from her shoulders, her arms, her legs. Her kunai were drawn, her white eyes fixed on the young man with the golden eye, tracking his movements, waiting for the first twitch.
The white-haired woman's hand came down.
They clashed.