The ground of Sorriso trembled, but not because of chaos.
There were no screams, no panic.
Only discipline.
Firm footsteps, steel against steel, enemy portals crushed before they could even open.
From Bragan?a to the far North, flashes shot to the sky.
Alcairum shone in white streaks like living constellations —
high-class mages sustaining defensive portals in unison,
connecting the whole Empire.
It was the Turtle Defense,
a total strategy anticipated by Lukas.
Until dawn,
not a single border would fall.
Katarina and Draken were already on the most distant fronts,
fulfilling the quiet orders of the skinny guy:
prevent the Empire from losing even an inch of land.
In the South, in Sorriso, the evacuation moved perfectly.
Nobles, civilians, merchants — all moving like pieces of a well-trained board,
guided by the firm calm of Leli,
who turned the retreat into a flawless choreography.
Anatoly, wielding his blood sword,
expected fear and disorder.
But every second, he felt the opposite:
his servants dying one by one.
The connection in his chest burned,
each death stabbing his flesh.
— No… impossible… — he growled,
eyes blazing, spitting blood to the ground. —
I feel it…
I feel her presence,
that unclassified monstrosity…
Why is that energy coming from you…
Was the rumor true, you damn skinny rat?!
What did you do?!
At the center of the battlefield,
Lukas raised his gladius.
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His body still small,
but his posture firm —
César’s shadow and Morgana’s flame pulsing within him.
— Oh, chocolatinho…
you’re so hot like this,
burning with war and hatred… —
Morgana whispered, laughing in his mind.
— Silence,
shameless woman! —
César roared,
in Latin and fury. —
This is a field of honor,
not of sin!
Lukas ignored both,
inhaling deeply.
Then he smiled.
Not just any smile —
a cutting, wide, ironic smile.
A vortex of hatred and joy fused together.
His eyes shining like sharpened blades,
the left eye purple-black,
the right eye golden light —
a sun and an abyss
in perfect harmony.
His voice, deep and veteran,
echoed across the battlefield as a sentence:
— I evened the game, damned plague.
The air shook.
Even the portals hesitated.
His smile widened even more,
almost carving itself onto his face.
— You die today.
Thought you would defeat me in chess? ??
Original Disaster or not,
masked or not,
with minions or a whole army…
today you leave this world.
And I will make sure of it.
You went from hunter…
to prey.
Tiki taki…
Time is running,
miserable plague.
Anatoly stepped back —
for the first time in centuries.
The skinny boy no longer looked like a boy.
He looked like the omen
of the Desasters’ downfall.
— How do you know about… THAT?! —
Anatoly roared, his voice trembling in terror.
And Lukas just laughed —
a dry, calm laugh
of someone who already defeated the impossible once.
End of Chapter 14
