2024-09-29 03:36:50
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Chapter 372
The streets of Glassview pulsed with light, laughter, and the clatter of celebration. Stalls were draped in banners of azure and silver, crowds pressing shoulder to shoulder, the air thick with roasted meats, sweet incense, and the acrid tang of fireworks sparks. Lanterns bobbed above the thoroughfares like floating stars, casting shifting glows across cobblestones scarred from months of reconstruction.Caster Spellbound moved through it all almost invisibly, a shadow among the living. He walked with the grace of a man used to command, though his eyes constantly flicked upward, scanning, measuring, reading the currents of mana that hummed invisibly above the city. The festival was meant to honor heroes, him, Sikoa, Solon, the brave few who had risked everything, but in the back of his mind, a dozen other faces haunted him. The students, archivists, and low-tier assistants who had perished in the inferno of the burning library. The necrotic storms. The invisible toll exacted by th
Chapter 371
Night had already swallowed Glassview when Sikoa stepped onto the first ridge of the city’s fractured rooftops. Her cloak, black as the void between stars, fluttered briefly in the wind, catching just enough moonlight to reveal the faint silver embroidery, a sigil she had traced herself, one of concealment and passage.The air carried the tang of smoke and ozone from the necrotic storms that had raged only days before. The city was still scarred, buildings leaning like broken teeth, mana wells flickering with residual corruption.She paused at a vantage point above what remained of the Lower Lime Quarter, surveying the streets below. The quiet was deceptive. Shadows moved in the alleys, some natural, some artificial, shaped by lingering Twin Moons wards that had survived the purge. Sikoa adjusted her gauntlet, fingertips brushing the engraved runes that hummed softly with protective magic. Every step tonight was deliberate, measured, calculated. No orphan, no hidden agent, no lin
Chapter 370
The council chamber of Glassview rose above the city, a patchwork of shattered architecture and hastily repaired towers. Cranes leaned against broken walls, scaffolding lined with banners flapping in the wind, but the chamber itself had been reinforced with layers of Skell energy, warded against collapse and intrusion.Caster Spellbound entered first, flanked by Sikoa. His robes, dark and unassuming, brushed against the stone floor. His aura was subtle but unmistakable: threads of Skell essence interlaced with mortal mana, radiating calm authority. The chamber’s energy grid hummed in recognition, every line of reinforced mana tuning to him.Across the room, representatives from Cloud Tower, Thorn Academy, and Iron Peak waited. Each was an imposing figure, marked by their own sigils and protective wards. Their eyes flicked toward him, weighing, judging, calculating. The air between them crackled with tension, as if the city itself held its breath.Caster did not rush. He paused at
Chapter 369
Glassview was quiet, but not lifeless. Smoke had dissipated from the streets, and the air smelled of wet stone and scorched metal. The city still bore the scars of the Warden’s chaos, the floating towers leaned slightly, fractured stone hung precariously from rooftops, and the once-pristine streets were strewn with ash and shattered constructs. Yet, amid the ruins, life persisted. Citizens emerged from hiding, rubbing eyes against the sudden clarity, unsure if the nightmare had truly ended.Caster Spellbound walked through the Plaza, boots crunching over shards of glass and splintered stone. His circuits hummed faintly under his skin, synchronized with the recovering leylines beneath the city. He could feel the pulse of Glassview returning, fragile but growing. Residual Skell essence, tidied and channeled through his lattice, flowed outward into every conduit and anchor point. Each step reinforced stability, each breath a tether to the city’s slowly healing mana grid.At his side
Chapter 368
Ash fell across the plaza like snow, though the air carried no cold. Dust and fragments of broken constructs drifted lazily around the fractured towers. Glassview was scarred, yet it still breathed. The echoes of the battle lingered, vibrating through stone and air alike.Caster stood among the debris, chest heaving, circuits blazing. His hand still held the light-forged sigil that had pierced Lyra’s chest. Her body hung limply, shadows curling around her form, veins of silver-black slowly dimming. Yet the air itself pulsed with a presence, not hers, something older, something darker.The column of black and silver mist coalesced above her. It twisted, elongated, and grew, taking shape. The Veiled Warden had been defeated as a vessel, but its essence surged outward, unbound. And then, impossibly, a face formed from the swirling shadow, Eidric’s spectral outline. Fragmented, jagged, but unmistakable.Caster froze, circuits buzzing as he recognized the features. Not fully Eidric. No
Chapter 367
The first tower fell without a sound. Stone did not shatter. It folded. The upper ring of the western academic spire sagged inward, as if the air had grown heavy enough to crush it. Runes carved into the outer walls dimmed and died one by one. Floating platforms stalled mid-air and dropped. They struck lower roofs and slid off, breaking apart as they fell into the streets below. People ran.Caster stood at the edge of the observatory terrace and watched the city come apart piece by piece. His coat pulled tight against a wind that did not exist. Mana pressure rolled through the air in slow pulses, strong enough to make glass bend in its frames. The sky above Glassview had split into layers. A pale blue shell hovered over the inner districts. Beyond it, darkness churned, threaded with sickly silver light.Lyra had begun. Sikoa landed behind him, boots scraping stone. She did not speak. She did not need to. Her hand went to the hilt at her back. The blade hummed, reacting to the pres
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