Chaosbound: Elarith Chronicles

Velka's brow furrowed as he processed Aurel's words. His initial suspicion lingered, but the man before him exuded an undeniable certainty, backed by the overwhelming chaos power Velka had already witnessed. Gradually, his doubt gave way to a begrudging belief.

"That fake king..." Velka murmured, frustration lacing his voice. "He's not someone anyone can defeat. Even our group—the Umbrafang—and the five pseudo-Abyssals combined, we weren't sure if we were a match for him."

Velka paused, his gaze hardening as he spoke with conviction. "Our task was to kill him. We uncovered that he was sending information to the western Luminaries, stirring chaos in this land. That man—and the others like him—they want chaos to consume the south, to rip apart everything we've fought to protect."

His expression darkened, anger flickering in his tone. "But we don't want that. The Abyssal doesn't want that. We've kept this land balanced, no matter what others think of us. If you really did kill the fake king..." Velka hesitated, considering the possibility. "Then maybe, by now, the real king has already been escorted back to his kingdom by other members of the Umbrafang."

His voice softened slightly, losing its edge. "That's it. That was our mission. Nothing more."

Aurel's piercing gaze remained locked onto Velka, his tone measured but with an edge of incredulity. "You were willing to kill the people of that kingdom? All for one fake king?" His words carried a note of condemnation, but also curiosity—a need to understand.

Velka's lips curled into a faint sneer, though his voice remained calm, resolute. "Casualties of war," he said plainly, as though it were a universal truth. "That whole kingdom is corrupt anyway. You may not approve of our methods," he added, his tone unyielding, "but we do this to protect the southern territory."

Aurel's brow furrowed, his arms crossing as he weighed the response. The conviction in Velka's voice once again struck a chord, but it did little to quell the unease rising in his chest. "I don't question your resolve," Aurel replied after a moment, his voice tinged with both agreement and reproach. "I don't like your methods, that's true—but I don't want to judge you either." He paused, stepping back slightly as his tone shifted. "That fake king, though... he was of the Luminaries."

His words carried weight, deliberate and sharp. "He was powerful indeed," Aurel continued, his eyes narrowing. "But I killed him quickly." A hint of regret seeped into his tone as he admitted, "I regret that I didn't get any information from him. He took his secrets to the grave."

Aurel exhaled softly, his gaze now thoughtful, contemplative. "Do you think there are others like him?" he asked, more to himself than to Velka. "Others roaming the southern territory, pretending to be kings?" He glanced back at Velka, his eyes hardening. "They must have artifacts that completely cover their identities as Luminaries." He shook his head slightly, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "Too bad I destroyed his artifact to smithereens."

A Clash of Wills

Aurel's expression hardened, his piercing gaze never leaving Velka as the words sank in. "What about the man you captured?" he asked, his voice steady but edged with a sharpness that left no room for evasion. "Who is he, and what does he have to do with the Dusk Kingdom?"

Velka exhaled slowly, visibly weighing his options before responding. "He came to this territory looking for help," he began, his voice carrying a reluctant edge of honesty. "He sought out the Eclipseborne information broker network—controlled by the Abyssal, of course." There was a faint flicker of pride in his tone, though his eyes betrayed a trace of caution.

"He was sent to us by Nephra," Velka continued, his voice dropping slightly. "That man has information about the fake king. He knows more about the Luminaries than you think. He's a valuable source of information for us."

Velka hesitated then, his gaze darting briefly toward the rocky ceiling before returning to Aurel. "Look," he said, his voice steadying with a note of warning, "I understand you're here to investigate. But you're facing a threat that's impossible for you. The Abyssal are forces you shouldn't offend."

Aurel's jaw tightened at the boldness of Velka's statement. His eyes narrowed, and a faint, sharp smirk tugged at his lips. "You were cooperating up until now," Aurel said, his voice low and cutting. "Oh well."

He stepped closer, his presence looming over Velka as the air seemed to grow heavier with his chaos-infused energy. "I don't care who the Abyssal are," he continued, his tone cold and deliberate. "Or how powerful they claim to be. They're killing people. Making monsters. Playing gods in this southern territory." He leaned in slightly, his eyes burning with intensity. "Worship them all you like. But for now, I only care about those Luminary bastards. I'll deal with your masters later."

Aurel tightened the chaos vines around Velka with deliberate precision, the faint pulsing of chaotic energy amplifying the pressure. Velka grunted, his resolve flickering for the briefest of moments before steadying again. Aurel leaned closer, his tone cold yet laced with dark amusement. "I'll get back to you later," he said, his voice low and cutting. "Maybe when you feel more chatty."

Straightening, Aurel let the chaos-infused vines lock into place, ensuring Velka's movements were completely restricted. His next words came sharp and precise. "The captured man you spoke of? He's with me now, under my protection." A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he added, "Meanwhile, I'll go talk to your friend. Sit tight, Velka."

A Conflicted Loyalty

Aurel turned on his heel, his cloak sweeping dramatically behind him as he made his way back to Rhenis. The oppressive hum of chaos energy faded slightly as he approached the other captive, whose restrained form seemed even weaker under Aurel's gaze. Rhenis looked up with a mix of desperation and defeat, his earlier panic barely contained.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," Aurel said, his voice carrying a faux cheerfulness, like someone indulging in idle gossip. "Your friend Velka is a bit... chatty. You won't believe what he told me." He chuckled lightly, his tone dripping with mock amusement. "You Umbrafangs seem to be so different from each other. It's fascinating, really."

Aurel folded his arms, leaning back slightly as he continued. "Well, Velka did tell me a few things—about the Luminaries, about your masters. Interesting stuff, honestly. But you know," he added with a smirk, "like I told you earlier, if you work for me, we'll get to kill some more Luminaries. Maybe even your masters. Oh, it'll be fun."

His tone darkened slightly as he leaned forward, his expression sharpening. "Yeah, yeah—Velka said something about not offending your masters. Well, I am offended by them." He shrugged casually. "Shouldn't I at least send them that message? Maybe send Velka's head to them. You deliver it, of course, since you work for me now."

Aurel let the words settle, his smirk widening as he added, "Oh—I forgot. You haven't agreed to that yet." He straightened, his presence looming larger as the chaos energy surrounding them seemed to hum louder. "So, what's it gonna be? Feeling like aligning yourself with me now?"

The chaos vines around Rhenis pulsed faintly, their rhythmic energy sapping any illusion of resistance from the captive. Aurel stood before him, his gaze unwavering and piercing, radiating an authority that seemed impossible to defy. Rhenis shifted weakly against his restraints, his breath hitching as he prepared to speak.

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"They already know about you," Rhenis said, his voice carrying a mixture of resignation and resolve. "The Abyssal—our masters—they are fully aware of you." He paused briefly, his gaze hardening despite his weakened state. "The Abyssal control all the information in the southern territory. They know everything—the Vanguard, the Shadow Blades, the kingdoms. They've been in this world for longer than I can comprehend."

Rhenis's tone sharpened as he continued, his pride in his masters evident. "Most of the Eclipseborne work for them. They are the true rulers of the south. The Abyssal... they've kept this land in balance, no matter what others think. It's why we, the Umbrafang, serve them without question."

He took a shallow breath, then added with a faint sneer, "Here's some news for you: they told us—the Umbrafang—to avoid you. To not engage with you under any circumstances. Velka's loyalty to them is true, and so is mine." His gaze fixed firmly on Aurel as he concluded, "I will not work for you. I will not serve you."

Aurel stood silent for a moment, letting the weight of Rhenis's words settle around them. The faint hum of chaos energy filled the air, amplifying the tension as Aurel's expression remained unreadable.

The Weight of Chains

Aurel's sharp eyes narrowed as he studied Rhenis, his tone laced with feigned curiosity. "The man chained over there," he said, his voice low and deliberate. "Who is he? And why is he bound like a captive?"

Rhenis smirked, his exhaustion momentarily replaced by a flicker of amusement. "Believe it or not," he replied, leaning his head against the chaos vines, "that man is not our captive. The chains? They're proof of an alliance. We can't let him wander freely, so he agreed to this... peculiar arrangement."

Aurel's brow furrowed in disbelief. "Chained, but not a captive? Are you joking with me?" His gaze flickered toward the restrained figure, irritation flashing across his face. "Who's stupid enough to believe that? And you expect me to think he just agreed to be bait for the fake king?"

Rhenis chuckled, then threw his head back in a sudden outburst of laughter. "Hahahaha! You don't get it, do you?" He grinned wickedly as he straightened, his teeth glinting faintly in the dim light. "Here's the punchline: I think you're the one who's fallen for the trap instead."

Aurel's blood ran cold. The mocking laughter reverberated in the cavern as the air grew heavier, a faint, sinister presence stirring behind him. His Chaos Divinant senses screamed a warning, every fiber of his being prickling with alarm. Aurel spun instinctively, his eyes widening as the figure behind him materialized like a phantom of fury.

It was Aric.

The old man's chains clinked faintly as they fell loose to the ground, his once-muted aura now blazing to life. His eyes burned with a fiery intensity, and his presence was like that of a predator in its final, lethal pounce. From his warrior aura, a sword coalesced—shimmering with raw power, humming with destructive intent. The cavern seemed to shrink around him as his energy surged, suffocating and overwhelming.

Aurel froze, shocked and confused. He recognized the man instantly—the legendary Bladelord, the supposed captive. His mind raced, but his instincts screamed louder. How? Why is he moving against me?

Aric's gaze locked onto Aurel, his lips curling into something between a smirk and a snarl. "You should've paid more attention," he growled, his voice carrying an edge of madness and purpose. The warrior raised his blade, the glow of his aura casting long, menacing shadows across the walls.

Aurel steadied himself, his own chaos energy flaring to life as the sword descended. The moment hung suspended, the collision of two forces inevitable.

The Blade of Divinity

Aurel felt it—a surge of malevolent intent so sharp and cutting that it sent a chill down his spine. It wasn't just the presence of danger; it was the killing malice behind him, poised and undeniable. His breath hitched, his chest tightening with an emotion far deeper than fear. He knew who it was.

The realization hit him like a blow, not to his body but to his soul. The idea of Aric—his mentor, his second father—attacking him sent a wave of pain through him that dulled everything else. He didn't understand. He couldn't fathom. Why? Why would he strike at me like this? Has he forgotten who I am?

Rhenis's laughter, sharp and grating, shattered his fleeting thoughts. "Hahahaha! You see now, don't you?" he mocked, his voice dripping with cruelty. "You're done for, Vanguard. It's over!" His words seemed distant, muffled against the torrent of emotion swirling inside Aurel's mind.

Aurel's grip tightened on his sword, the metal humming faintly as his chaos energy began to flare instinctively. He felt the shift in the air—a burst of power, overwhelming and suffocating. It was coming for him, fast, unstoppable.

As the malicious aura converged, his instincts screamed. He spun on his heel, his sword rising just in time to meet the strike descending from behind—a blade forged from pure warrior aura, its brilliance shimmering like molten gold. The force of the collision sent sparks cascading through the cavern, illuminating the figures in fleeting, jagged light.

The weapon belonged to Aric.

Time seemed to freeze for an instant. Aurel's wide eyes locked onto the man behind him, his breath caught as the truth settled like stone in his chest. He's working with them. The realization burned, filling him with a mixture of confusion, sadness, and restrained anger. I don't understand. Why would he fight me?

Another surge of power hit like a wave, pushing Aurel back. His footing faltered, but his blade didn't drop. He adjusted quickly, his instincts keeping him alive as strike after strike rained down on him—each one a calculated blow meant to kill. Yet he didn't fight back. He couldn't.

I won't hurt him. I won't fight him. This isn't right.

Aurel's movements became a delicate dance of defense—parrying, sidestepping, retreating with precision honed by years of training. He held himself back, refusing to let his chaos energy lash out the way it wanted to. He felt its hunger in the pit of his being, urging him to retaliate, but he silenced it with sheer will. His focus remained sharp, his blade steady.

Through the storm of strikes, he couldn't help but marvel at the sheer power before him. Lord Aric... truly a Bladelord. The aura radiating from the man was staggering, crushing. Each swing carried devastating force, calculated mastery, and an overwhelming presence. This is what it means to face a legend. But why is it him? Why now?

The pause hung heavy, the clash reverberating through the cavern. The tension in the air thickened as Aurel's gaze flicked briefly to the shimmering aura blade in Aric's hands—dangerous, radiant, and purposeful. His heart clenched, but he refused to strike.

Shadows of Recognition

Aurel's blade clashed against Aric's with a deafening cry of steel. The force of the strike sent shockwaves reverberating through the cavern, and Aurel staggered back a step, his grip steady but his heart aching. He parried another strike, the aura-blade crackling with a fierce intensity as it sought to end him. But no matter how precise the blows, no matter how ruthless the intent, Aurel refused to retaliate.

I can't. I won't hurt him, Aurel thought, his chest tightening with every strike he deflected. His movements were fluid yet restrained, a masterclass of defense. This man... He believed in me. He treated me like a son. How can I raise my blade against him?

Aric, however, fought like a man possessed. His attacks came with feral precision, each step forward exuding the raw, untamed power of a Bladelord. His aura blazed around him, golden and radiant, a storm that suffocated the air in the cavern. He advanced relentlessly, every swing of his blade carrying the weight of a seasoned master. He looked less like a man and more like a force of nature—a warrior in his purest, most terrifying form.

"Is this all you've got?" Aric snarled, his voice like a low growl. His strikes grew heavier, faster, pushing Aurel further and further to the edge. The sheer dominance of his aura made Aurel's knees shake—not from fear, but from the overwhelming power of the man he had once called a father figure.

Aurel ducked under a wild swing, narrowly avoiding the blade that sliced clean through the stalagmite behind him, splitting it in two. So this is the true power of Lord Aric, Aurel thought, his heart pounding. Even as he evaded death again and again, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of awe. I never imagined... never in my life... that I would face this man. That I would stand against someone so powerful.

The strikes became relentless, the ground cracking beneath the force of Aric's blows. A final, crushing attack slammed into Aurel's blade, sending him flying backward. His body struck the edge of the cave, and the momentum carried him out into the open, tumbling across the rocky ground. His boots dug into the soil, carving a long skidmark that scarred the earth as he struggled to stop his momentum.

Rindel, standing guard outside the cave, turned at the commotion. His usually stoic gaze sharpened as he took in the sight of his master, battered and pushed to the edge. Without a moment's hesitation, Rindel's energy surged as he transformed, his aura sharpening to its strongest form. He moved like a shadow, prepared to strike at Aric with the ferocity of a loyal servant seeing his master under attack.

But before Rindel could act, Aurel's voice rang clear in his mind, a psychic command infused with the weight of authority: "Do not engage. Under no circumstance, do not attack him. He's a friend."

Rindel froze, hesitating for only a moment before lowering his guard and retreating back to Aurel's side. His loyalty held firm as he obeyed the command, though he watched Aric closely, his eyes still sharp and ready.