2025-09-07 01:34:01
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Chapter 92
"Lord Elvis, it appears that the heroes are not alone in their venture, thousands of knights are on their way with a strange creature," Spider Monkey swung into the scene and swiftly delivered the news. His words held an urgency that mirrored the gravity of the situation."Prepare to meet your demise, foul demon lord!" bellowed one of the heroes, his laughter brimming with confidence and defiance.Observing the disrespectful manner in which the heroes addressed their master, Charlotte and Jorm felt the flames of anger ignite within them. Their loyalty to Elvis, their esteemed master, fueled their desire to put an end to this insolence."Master, why not allow us to swiftly dispatch these adversaries?" Jorm proposed, his voice tinged with determination."Yes, these insolent peasants have become an unbearable nuisance," added Charlotte, her countenance contorted with a mix of fury and disdain. Her lips trembled with restrained aggression.Not too far from the confines of the Northern Ki
Tallying the cost
The phantom chill of the God-Anchor was a new constant in Adrian's bones, a deep-seated cold that even the morning sun couldn't touch. The brand on his soul that mark of attention from the Hungry Void, thrummed with a low, persistent frequency, a reminder that their victory had come with a price far beyond the battlefield. He sat on the edge of his bed, the silence of the mansion pressing in on him. His first coherent thought wasn't of strategy or power. It was of Alan. He pulled up the System interface, his focus sharp. [Core Character: Alan - The Mystic Maestro - STATUS: COMPROMISED] The red, flashing text sent a jolt of cold dread through him, sharper than any magical chill. "System, full report on Alan's exposure and current status," he commanded, his voice tight. A flood of data streamed through his consciousness, grainy images of Alan's desperate flight through the archives, the collapsing bookshelves, the final, brutal look of comprehension on Sister Anya's face before Alan
Once the issue is all over, we can go back to being enemies
The silence after the rift closed was a physical thing, thick and heavy as wet wool. It was broken by the small, helpless sounds the vessel-boy made, shivering against the obsidian stake. Finn was the first to move, scrambling up the black steps with a knife to saw at the thick chains.Adrian didn't move. He stood over the spot where Mordian had been erased, the God-Anchor cold at his feet. The internal wound from using it was a hollow ache, a piece of him scooped out and fed to the silence. But beneath that, a new, deeper cold was settling in. The brand.It wasn't a pain. It was an awareness. A fixed point in the geography of his soul, a icy pinprick that felt like a distant, unblinking eye had just taken note of his coordinates.Boots scuffed on the stone behind him. He didn't need to turn. He knew Maria's step."You look like shit," she said, her voice rough. She came to stand beside him, looking down at the empty space where the ritualist had been. Her arm was bleeding from a deep
The Vessel
Adrian's boot hit the first step of the black altar. The stone wasn't cold. It was a void, sucking the warmth from his soul. Each step upward was a fight against the hook in his core, the hungry void above pulling him in while the dead weight of the Anchor tried to drag him down.He was halfway up when a wave of force slammed into him, not from the rift, but from the side. It wasn't physical. It was a command, written in pure will.STOP.Adrian staggered, his head ringing. At the top of the platform, Brother Mordian had turned from the raging pillar of green light. His eyes were no longer human. They were pools of the same oily blackness as the rift, his tattooed skin cracking like dry earth, leaking that same void. He held one hand toward the rift, sustaining the connection, and the other was now pointed at Adrian.YOU ARE THE KEY. YOU WILL BE THE GATE. The words weren't spoken; they were branded directly into Adrian's mind.The pull intensified. Adrian grunted, driving the base of t
Don't let it touch you!
The world broke with a sound like a mountain dying.One moment, the only noise was the wind and the distant, maddening drums from the basin below. The next, a concussion of force slammed into the ridge, so visceral it felt like a physical blow. The air didn't just grow cold; it became thin, starved, as if the life was being sucked out of it.Adrian's knees buckled. A white-hot brand seared the core of his being, the psychic hook the Reclamationists had embedded in him was no longer a tug, but a chain, and something on the other end was yanking with the force of a collapsing star. His vision swam, the grim faces of his pack smearing into a blur. For a terrifying second, he wasn't on the ridge. He was nowhere. A vast, gray, silent nothingness pressed in on him, and at its heart was a single, overwhelming sensation: Hunger. It was a cold, simple, and absolute need to consume, and his soul was the brightest thing on the menu.On the Sunken Altar below, the gaunt figure of Brother Mordian
The Bleeding Land
Two days of hard marching north-east had stripped away the familiar. The rugged but life-filled foothills of the Serpent's Teeth gave way to a blighted expanse that seemed to suck the very vitality from the air. The ground was a cracked, grayish-purple, like old, clotted blood. Sparse, twisted trees clawed at a sky the color of a day-old bruise. There was no birdsong, no scuttling of insects. Only the moan of a wind that carried the taste of ash and ozone.The Howling Peak army moved through this desolation with a grim, focused silence. The initial energy of their departure had been replaced by a wary tension. Their enhanced senses, a gift from Adrian's ascension, were now a curse, amplifying the wrongness that permeated everything."It's not just dead," Bella murmured, her boots scuffing the brittle ground. "It's... infected. The earth is in pain. It's screaming, but the sound is too high for anyone but it and I to hear."Adrian felt it too, a constant, low-level psychic static that
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