CHAPTER 31: Blades Against Darkness - Part 2

  “Varn,” she said without turning, “take this key and choose your weapon.”

  He complied with the request. The armory, albeit small, housed quality weapons. The swords, in particular, were Prana weapons.

  Prana weapons were not as exotic as they sounded. Some types of Prana weapons might differ in features or materials from regular weapons. But for swords, the difference lay in the thickness of the blade, a thickness that made them too cumbersome for a regular to wield. Varne swung several swords before settling on his specialty, a double-edged straight sword.

  Upon exiting, Almyria had laid the guards’ bodies in a row. Their fingers interlocked over their chests.

  “Are you ready, Varn?” Her face had returned to its usual state, a hint that she was no stranger to battle and death. He nodded.

  They entered a room with rows of white pillars on both sides. It was large enough to accommodate hundreds without crowding. The ceiling was so high that the light of the lanterns on the pillars barely illuminated it.

  At the end of the room, ornate double doors were shut tight and flanked by branched candelabras. A white-haired man in a black robe approached the doors.

  “Halt! Speak your name and intent!” Almyria's shout echoed as the man reached for the door.

  The man turned. He was in his early thirties, his skin pale, cheekbones prominent. His eyes were a light gray, almost white.

  “I am Ashtrel Banoic. I have come for the Fire Core.” His hand swept across his body in a bow, movements both natural and formal. Various symbols adorned his lean arms.

  “You’re the Necromancer responsible for all this!” Almyria said.

  “Indeed, that is one perspective to consider.”

  Varne stepped forward but she stopped him. “Be cautious, Varn. He… is dangerous.”

  “Very well, if you do not mind, I–”

  Dozens of light spears hovered in the air above Ashtrel as she manifested her spell, raining down all at once upon him. However, the enemy blocked them with a protective dome of black mist. The spears pierced but could not penetrate, and the mist devoured them until nothing remained.

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  “You have just cast a defensive spell?” Her eyes widened. “Impossible… you have ELEVEN Foci.”

  “What?” Varne asked, but she was too shocked to respond.

  “Varn, I have just cast three sets of Sacred Spear at once and he countered them with a single defense dome. His spell mastery far exceeds mine. We must work together to defeat him.”

  “I am pressed for time,” Ashtrel said. “I regret that I am unable to entertain you personally. Nevertheless, I have selected an appropriate substitute.” He lifted his right arm, a couple symbols glowing, and a mystical circle formed between them and him.

  Almyria stepped back. “That symbols… genuine Grammatons?”

  From the mystical circle on the floor emerged a serpent-like creature with five heads. Its green scales shimmered, reflecting the torchlight. All five heads towered, nearly brushing the ceiling. Pairs of golden eyes stared at them from the dimness.

  He took a defensive stance in front of Almyria.

  “Varn, you’ve never fought alongside a Mana Decima. Let me explain, as I need time to cast, you must gauge when I can attack and when I cannot. The more I concentrate on a single spell, the quicker it completes. But the more I divide my concentration among many spells, the slower I am.”

  He nodded, not taking his eyes off the five heads. He could not let them attack Almyria, so he would–

  One head lunged at him. He raised his sword to block. The strike hit his blade, pushing him back two steps. His sword vibrated like a tuning fork. Before he could steady himself, the other heads lunged at him.

  His feet were planted on the granite floor as he swung his sword, deflecting each strike. The strikes he parried gouge the floor with ease. Fragments of granite sprayed his face.

  “Varn, step aside!”

  Light spears manifested in air and showered down, shaking the room. The five heads and their necks were pinned to the floor. Green blood oozed from their wounds.

  Varne stepped on one of the heads. “Is this all?”

  “Varn, no! They can–”

  The closed eyelids opened, revealing golden eyes with slit pupils. At the same instant, sharp teeth bit into his torso and hurling him against a pillar.

  The impact rattled his entire body. Before hitting the ground, the other heads took turns ramming him. Only after these flurry of blows did he hit the floor. He might have died if he had activated Pale Thundercloud just a moment too late, right before being bitten.

  “–regenerate.”

  “Thanks, though I'd appreciate more timely warning,” Varne grunted as he stood up.

  “One of the symbols is ‘Regeneration’, but I wasn’t sure.”

  All five pairs of eyes shifted to Almyria, recognizing her as a softer and slower target. They struck but were repelled by a protective dome. A harsh, hammering sound echoed through the room as the heads pecked at it.

  Crash! The first layer of her triple-layered protective dome shattered. Varne darted forward, attempting to decapitate one of the necks, but his sword was repelled by scales as hard as iron.

  One head bit his leg and flung him against Almyria’s protective dome. Pale Thundercloud cracked, and another layer of protection shattered. Struggling to rise, Varne found he could not lift his left arm; his shoulder joint was dislocated.

  Two heads lunged at him from opposite directions. He braced for impact, but defensive spheres formed in front of each open mouth, stopping them like snakes trying to swallow boulders.