Chapter 163: A Turn of the Tide
Back at the front line, Frigid continued to stand firm, his towering form blocking any attempt to push forward. But even he could sense the shift in the air, the overwhelming heat radiating from the artifact as it reached its peak.
Aeloria's eyes locked onto him, cold and merciless. "This ends now," she said, her voice barely audible over the crackling energy.
Your next read awaits at empire
With a final surge of mana, she activated the artifact. The runes blazed with a blinding light before a massive wave of molten fire erupted forth, surging toward Frigid like a tidal wave of pure destruction.
For a moment, it seemed as though nothing could stop it. The sheer force of the blast incinerated everything in its path, turning the once lush battlefield into a scorched wasteland. The air itself seemed to crackle and burn as the wave closed in on its target.
At the center of the blast, Frigid remained motionless, his icy armor shimmering faintly. As the wave of molten fire crashed over him, a massive explosion erupted, sending a shockwave rippling outward that knocked everyone off their feet.
When the dust and smoke began to clear, all eyes turned toward the center of the battlefield, waiting to see the result. Had the artifact succeeded? Was Frigid finally defeated?
The battlefield lay shrouded in silence, thick with tension, as the aftermath of the devastating blast settled. Embers from the explosion danced in the air, and a heavy heat lingered, distorting the view with wavering ripples.
Aeloria and her team stood frozen, their breaths uneven as they surveyed the destruction they had wrought.
Yet amidst the scorched earth, something was wrong. Horribly wrong.
Frigid was supposed to be dead. Burned away. Reduced to nothing but a memory by the devastating force of the Obsidian Flame. And yet . . .
"Impossible . . ." Trisha whispered, her voice trembling with disbelief.
Standing amidst the wreckage, Horizon's team remained unscathed. Not a single scratch marred their armor, nor a drop of blood stained the ground beneath them. Even Frigid, the primary target of their assault, stood firm, his frosted armor gleaming faintly beneath a thin veil of dissipating steam.
"How . . . ?" Liora's voice barely made it out, her hands still clutching her staff as if her mind refused to process what her eyes were telling her. "There's no way they could have survived that."
The audience watching from the distant stands erupted in gasps, murmurs spreading like wildfire through the crowd. Even the commentators, who had been rendered momentarily speechless, scrambled to find words to describe what had just happened.
"That should have ended them," Aeloria muttered, gritting her teeth as doubt crept into her mind. "There's no way they could have blocked that attack . . ."
Her words trailed off as she caught sight of something—no, someone—floating mid-air in front of Frigid and the others. The figure hovered just above the ground, wrapped in a dark, almost ethereal aura that seemed to distort reality itself. The very air around it shimmered with unnatural energy, and an ominous purple glow emanated from its form.
The entity was unlike anything most of the audience had ever seen. Its skin was a dusky purplish hue, faintly glowing as if imbued with otherworldly power. Long, jagged grey hair cascaded down its back, framing a face that was both regal and terrifying. Its blood-red eyes gleamed with a predatory hunger, and sharp fangs peeked out from between its lips in a menacing grin. Large, bat-like wings unfurled behind it, casting a shadow over Horizon's team as if shielding them from the world.
"What . . . what is that thing?" Trisha stammered, taking an instinctive step back. Fear rippled through Aeloria's team, even though they tried to hide it behind hardened expressions.
"That's . . ."
"A dark creature! A Vampire!"
But those who knew better—those who had lived through the ancient history of the elven kingdoms—felt a deeper terror. A murmur spread among the elven spectators, some clutching their chests as if struck by an unseen blow.
"It can't be . . . ," one of the older elves whispered, his eyes wide in shock.
"The Crown Prince . . . ," another murmured in disbelief, her hands trembling.
Liora's eyes narrowed. "Who are you?" she repeated, her voice filled with confusion.
"That's . . . ," Aeloria said grimly, her gaze fixed on the floating figure. "That's Varioneth Von Lyrandar-Velorian, the banished Crown Prince of the High Elves. He was exiled years ago . . . for being cursed."
The tale was one steeped in tragedy and fear. Von had once been the pride of the elven kingdom—a prodigy in both magic and swordsmanship, destined to lead their people into a new era of prosperity. But fate had other plans.
On the eve of his coronation, he was struck by a powerful curse—one that twisted his form and tainted his mana. The once-glorious prince became something else entirely, his power growing darker and more dangerous with each passing day.
Fearing what he might become, the elders of the elven kingdom made a painful decision: they exiled him, stripping him of his title and banishing him from their lands forever.
Yet now, here he was—floating before them, very much alive and radiating an aura of raw, cursed power.
"After all these years . . . he's still alive," Aeloria said, her voice low but tense.
The cursed prince, Varioneth Von Lyrandar-Velorian, slowly descended until his feet touched the ground. His crimson gaze swept across the battlefield, pausing briefly on Aeloria's group before locking onto the elves in the audience. His grin widened as he relished their visible fear.
"I see my people still remember me," Von said, his voice smooth but laced with a dark undertone. "Good. It's nice to know that even after all this time, I still haunt your memories."
Aeloria stepped forward, her grip on her staff tightening. "You . . . You're not supposed to be here!" She demanded, pointing toward Von. "Why would someone like you get involved in this battle?"
Von chuckled softly, the sound sending chills down the spines of everyone who heard it. "Why? This is my land, and I have more right to set foot here than anyone else."