NOVEL NEXT Chapter 266: Battling Ghosts.
Destra stared wide-eyed at the Aurorafrost gem as Aodhán pulled it from its frost cradle, her mind racing with a thousand frantic thoughts.
The first thought was the loudest. How had Aodhán even known that something of such value was hidden here?
Aside from the chill in the air, which certainly hinted at something unnatural, there was nothing else that pointed at the presence of a treasure. If anything, the chill was creepy, planting dread in one's heart rather than curiosity. Yet, somehow, Aodhán had known the cause of the chill as well as its location.
And by the winter gods, it was an epic-ranked treasure.
Her first instinct was to attack Aodhán on the spot, to rip it from his hands before he could even comprehend what he held—but she discarded the idea almost instantly. It would be suicidal. Aodhán was too powerful, too unpredictable. The number of skills he had displayed already was mind-blowing, to say the least.
What couldn't he do? He could vanish into thin air, phase through attacks, teleport at will, and command lightning as if it were his trained beast.
But more than that, there were his so-called instincts—an uncanny sense of his surroundings, hinting at a perception so far above her own that it was like night and day. She could never blindside him, not even for a heartbeat.
No, attacking was out of the question—especially after how long it had taken her to earn the little trust he had placed in her so far.
But she needed that gem. Desperately. The Aurorafrost would sharpen her control to near-perfect precision, add depth and bite to her casting, and—most importantly—unlock several of the sealed passages in Zimara's grimoire. It wasn't just powerful; it was tailor-made for her.
And if she couldn't fight for it, then she would have to beg for it.
And beg; she did.
Swallowing her pride, Destra spoke, her voice trembling in reverence as she fixed her gaze on the gem's shifting auroras.
"Aodhán," she whispered, "I beg you in the name of all the winter gods… please, give the treasure to me."
Aodhán turned toward her, blinking as if dragged out of a trance, and only then did Destra realize he hadn't heard her plea at all. Her throat tightened as she forced the words out again, clearer this time. Perhaps, a bit commanding.
"Please. Give it to me."
Aodhán frowned, his gaze hardening in suspicion. "And why would I do that? Are you trying to mind-control me? Can ice witches do that?"
"No!" Destra shook her head quickly, panic edging her voice. For someone who already distrusted her, confessing her talents with illusions and persuasion would be the worst possible move. "I can't mind-control you, and I'm not a witch. I just—this treasure is perfect for me, and I would really appreciate it if you gave it to me. I swear I'll repay you. If you give me this, I swear you'll never regret it."
Aodhán's expression softened a bit. "I kind of had other plans for it. It would also be perfect for Daruk."
"Daruk doesn't need it," Destra almost snapped in desperation. "Or at least, he doesn't need it as much as I do. He is a double inheritor. He has more than enough willpower to make up for any deficiency in control and focus. I, on the other hand, do not have that luxury."
Aodhán cocked his head and smiled. "And now you sound like a crazy scientist. Are these behavioral changes intentional?"
Destra gritted her teeth. "They are not. Aodhán, please—you know I need this. I attacked you; you've seen my skill."
"And they are not the best, yes." Aodhán nodded in agreement. "But that doesn't mean Daruk doesn't need it either. If he absorbs this, his abilities will go from lethal to catastrophic in an instant."
"He's already catastrophic," Destra muttered, her body trembling with the urge to snatch the gem and swallow it whole before Aodhán could stop her. "I've seen a little of what he can do, and it's deadly."
"But it could be deadlier," Aodhán countered, more amused than concerned.
Destra exhaled sharply, forcing reason over desperation. "If you give me that treasure, you'll gain an ally for life. I know you already have allies, but I would be like a sister—"
"I already have a sister." Aodhán's smile widened, his chest rumbling with laughter, and then he froze. The laughter died, his smile withered, and every hint of amusement faded from his expression. His voice softened, but his eyes hardened.
"I already have a sister." He repeated himself, but this time there was no sign of mirth. "She's a changeling, and she's most likely worried sick for me. Along with my mother, my father, and my elder brother."
He swallowed, then sighed. "Look, Destra, I get it. This treasure would change everything for you. But I can't give it to you. I'm Daruk's brother first before your… friend? So, this is what will happen: I'll give the gem to Daruk when I see him. If he decides he doesn't need it, then it's yours."
Destra's voice cracked as she asked, "And if he does?"
"Then that's what it is," Aodhán said firmly. "I'm sorry, Destra."
Destra sagged against the trunk of a blue tree, pain and regret evident in her expression as she blinked hard against the burn of tears. Aodhán grimaced at the sight and lifted a hand to comfort her—but paused just before his fingers brushed her shoulder and instead let it fall back down, choosing a small smile instead.
"I'll make it up to you," his smile widened. "The realm is big, and where there's one treasure, there's bound to be another. The next one I come across is yours; no matter how powerful, I'll give it to you."
Destra's expression perked up immediately, and though the longing in her eyes never vanished, she nodded. "I will be grateful if you do that."
Aodhán chuckled and gestured to the spike still half buried in the frozen ground. "Take that as a consolation prize."
Destra smiled lightly, eyes still fixed on Aodhán as he placed the treasure in a spatial storage. How he had managed to sneak the storage in here she had no idea, but that was just one of the many things that made him so mysterious.
Shaking her head, she yanked the spike free and glanced back at him. "I'm just leeching off you, aren't I?"
"You are," Aodhán admitted with a smirk. "But that's not how I see it."
Her brows arched. "Then how do you see it?"
"I see it as paying for good company. Besides, like you said earlier, two is better than one."
"Humph." Destra scoffed. "You're terrible company."
"And yet, you won't leave." Aodhán chided, core sense expanding as he turned toward the nearest cluster of null essence glowing in his mind's eye. This time, though, he left the other affinities half-open, unwilling to miss any subtle treasures that might be hidden along their path.
In this manner, their journey through the shivering plains continued for another two hours.
In that time, Destra finally broke into the leaderboard, claiming the tenth spot for herself. Aodhán, meanwhile, had surged past everyone—securing the very top, first place, by a margin so wide it was almost unfair.
ABYSSAL PINS LEADERBOARD
Aodhán Brystion—410 points
Baxterion Valenhall—310 points
Serenya Serenity—300 points
Mirith Vaelys—290 points
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
Sebastian Rune—280 points
Monica Weber—280 points
Cyrus Valerion—270 points
Daruk Brystion—240 points
Zareen Tahrizaar—240 points
Destra Mrazek—220 points
Aodhán's fast rise through the leaderboard hadn't gone unnoticed though, and a few minutes later, three powerful cores suddenly entered into Core Sense's range—the strongest of which was a tier 37 core blazing with spatial essence.
It wasn't Cyrus, obviously. Which meant—
The three cores teleported again, and Aodhán felt his body grow cold as a familiar woman suddenly appeared only a few feet away from him, a burning blade clenched tightly in her hands. Two figures flanked her, but Aodhán barely glanced at them, his eyes locked on the spatial awakened who had once nearly captured him.
The last time he'd seen her, Baxter had blasted her into cosmic dust. Yet here she stood, whole and unmarred, wreathed in a suffocating aura of death.
She smiled thinly, and Aodhán felt his body grow even colder as she whispered. "Aodhán Brystion, I have come to claim my bounty."
"The bounty is over," Aodhán replied hastily, trying to diffuse the situation. "You were dead at the time."
The woman's lips curled into something ugly.
"You dare make fun of me?" She snarled, her aura flaring as she took an enraged step forward. "You little shit. I almost died because of you. I will have your life, bounty or not."
Aodhán took an instinctive step backward, eyes wide as the memory of that burning blade slashing through his intangible form flashed across his mind. He ground his teeth. "We… we don't have to solve this with violence."
"Coward!" the woman spat, and her comrades laughed like hyenas. But Aodhán's grimace only deepened.
The spatial awakened was six whole tiers above him and strong. It was no longer impossible for him to defeat her, but he doubted it would be an easy fight. If he wanted to stand a chance, he would have to give this battle his best, and he couldn't afford to worry about Destra while fighting for his life.
"Get back," he whispered to her, but Destra refused to leave, eyes wide as her gaze darted from him to the spatial awakened in panic. She muttered an incantation under her breath, but before Aodhán could convince her that she would only be a hindrance in this battle, the spatial awakened attacked, her flaming spatial sword sweeping out in a deadly arc.
Aodhán jumped back immediately, dodging the attack by a hairsbreadth. Destra stumbled to the ground, a thin layer of ice blooming beneath her, but Aodhán only spared her a glance before turning his attention back to the battle.
Three against one were terrible odds. Fortunately, Aodhán was never truly alone.
Varéc burst out of him with a thunderous roar, lightning and chaos arcing off his body and wings in waves. Everyone jerked back immediately, shock written plainly on their faces.
Aodhán took advantage of the momentary window without hesitation, and an instant later, a churning storm appeared above them, thunder booming and lightning arcing in jagged directions.
"You're full of tricks," the spatial awakened hissed, pointing her sword at him. "But there are no friends here to help you this time." She flicked her gaze toward Destra, then barked an order. "Shem, you take the girl. Thomas, take the familiar. I will handle the boy."
Both men rushed forward immediately, the first propelled by wind, the other by fire. Aodhán gritted his teeth in annoyance. Both men were too strong for Destra to handle. But before he could even think of helping her, he had to dodge as the spatial awakened's sword cut through space in an instant, slicing through his long hair.
Varéc roared, unleashing a sweeping beam of purple electricity at the group, and Aodhán took that as his cue. He raised a hand to the churning storm above and activated {Lightning Spear—Violet}.
Violet lightning didn't have as much destructive power as red, but in a battle against a spatial awakened, violet was his best bet for victory.
Thunder boomed as the heavens cracked open, and a volley of crackling violet spears rained down, arriving at their targets instantly like a storm of divine judgment. One tore into Shem's right leg, shattering it in a spray of blood and bone fragments. Three lunged toward Thomas, only to pass harmlessly through as the man transformed into a living, breathing pyre of flame.
The rest screamed down on the spatial awakened, but she simply lifted a hand and warped space, turning all the spears against him in a blink.
Aodhán barely reacted in time, detonating half the spears and redirecting the rest toward Shem and Thomas. A guttural scream echoed behind him as Shem was impaled once more, this time by nearly a dozen spears at once.
He died instantly.
But Aodhán barely had a chance to bask in that victory as space warped furiously around him. The world tilted, and in an instant, Aodhán found himself standing only inches away from the spatial awakened, her burning blade cleaving straight for his throat.
Eyes wide, Aodhán activated {Surging Momentum} in an attempt to jump back, only for the skill to fizzle out without effect, kinetic energy exploding uselessly from his legs. The space around him had been locked down. He couldn't move. He couldn't dodge. And a blade was about to slice him in two.
Aodhán did the only thing he could do.
He leveraged the force of his spirit, and chaos surged tangibly around him, pushing against the fabric of space so powerfully that Aodhán suspected he could create a breach if he pushed far enough.
He pushed, and chaos burst into reality like a roaring tide, thunder booming and lightning of various colors arcing to clash against the sweeping sword. Chaos and blade collided with an explosion so powerful the spatial awakened was thrown several feet backward.
Willpower drained out of Aodhán like water through a basket, but he barely even noticed. Instead, he seized the opportunity chaos had provided, his pathways glowing as willpower churned through them to activate {Lightning Beam—Red, Black, and Violet} all at once.
The three beams of electricity erupted from him with a boom of thunder.
The spatial awakened wasn't prepared for it.
Violet lightning struck instantly, slamming her against a tree bark so hard the tree cracked. Red and black arrived next, exploding in a wave of destruction and necrosis that nearly destroyed her right side.
But even while wounded, the spatial awakened wasn't an easy foe.
She teleported in the span of a blink, and this time, Aodhán was the one caught unprepared.
The burning blade bit into his neck so swiftly that only a quick activation of {Embody Lightning—Violet} saved him from losing his head in that moment.
Heart pounding, he reached up to wipe the blood from his neck, panic rising within him.
The spatial awakened laughed maniacally, her smile promising death. "I will kill you, Aodhán Brystion," she snarled. "I swear on all I stand for that I will kill you and feed your flesh to Rithclaws."
Her words were deranged, filled with rage, menace, and the promise of indescribable violence. But rather than fear, Aodhán felt a spark of rage ignite within him.
The caution and fear he'd been fighting with dissolved into righteous anger, and without hesitation, he pulled deeply from his willpower pool, pathways bulging as chaos and energy surged through them to activate {Lightning Surge}.
Electricity burst from him in a massive wave—red, black, violet, and green, all churning in a chaotic soup of energy. And with a growl, Aodhán directed all that energy toward the spatial awakened.
Still laughing, the woman raised a spatial wall to block the attack, and Aodhán knew that the moment the wall shattered, it would scatter the beam into a million directions.
Instinctively, he moved to jerk the beam back, but then an idea came to mind, and he decided to test it. With a sharp motion, he willed the beam to change affinity from its chaotic blend of colors to a single color—silver—and surprisingly, it worked.
The whole beam turned silver in an instant and phased through the spatial wall. It slammed into the spatial awakened and began phasing through her too, but Aodhán wouldn't have that. He converted the whole beam into green lightning instantly, funneling more willpower and chaos into the skill to increase its potency.
The spatial awakened screamed, and then Aodhán felt a sharp sense of danger. He dove backward immediately, cutting off the beam in the process, and barely escaped another stab to the neck as the flaming spatial blade shot through the space he'd just occupied.
A scream echoed behind him as Varéc and Destra finished Thomas off, but Aodhán didn't look back. He couldn't afford to.
The spatial wall shattered, and the spatial awakened stepped out, a furious expression on her face. She looked completely clean. Completely healed. All her injuries had vanished.
But Aodhán knew that was false.
"Pathetic!" the spatial awakened snarled, dark mirth dripping from her tone. "Was that your plan? To take me out with healing lightning?" She laughed loudly, chest rumbling and body shaking.
"Is that really all you've got, you fucking swine!" She shook her head as if disappointed and pointed her blade at Aodhán. "This whole back-and-forth has been a waste of time. Surrender your life to me. Right here. Right fucking—"
She coughed.
A single drop of blood splattered onto the ground before her. The spatial awakened stared down at it in confusion, her snarl faltering as she touched her lips with the back of her hand. It came away crimson.
"What—" she began, but another cough wracked her body, this one more violent. More blood.
"What's happening to her?" Destra asked as she came to stand beside him.
Aodhán grimaced. "Something very terrible."
The spatial awakened looked back at him, eyes wide, her face pale. "What have you done to me? What have you fucking—"
Another cough wracked her body, and this time she doubled over, her sword dissolving into motes of purple essence as thin tendrils of sickly green energy began to web across her skin like veins of poison. The green lightning had found fertile ground in a body that had just been brought back from the brink of death.
She tried to teleport. The air shimmered, warped—then snapped back. Nothing. The green web pulsed brighter, feeding on her spatial essence.
"No, no, no—" She clawed at the tendrils spreading across her arms, but they didn't stop. They climbed up her arms and then her throat, transforming her screams into wet, choking rasps that only expelled more blood. The spatial awakened spasmed, her eyes bulged, and bones began to snap as the insidious energy reached her spine and heart.
Her back arched. Her fingers scrabbled against the frozen ground, nails breaking. Blood pooled as welts opened on her skin. The crawling web of insidious energy turned black. The disease pulsed once, twice—
Her chest caved inward with a wet crunch.
Blood splattered out.
Her eyes burst.
And then silence.
Destra retched. Varéc growled uncomfortably, while Aodhán stared at the crumpled form of what remained of the spatial awakened, disgust churning within him. His fingers shook uncontrollably, but Aodhán clenched them tightly to his side, trying to purge the image of what he'd just done from his mind's eye.
"Aodhán," Destra whispered from behind him, eyes wide and skin as pale as snow. "What is that skill?"
Aodhán swallowed but didn't respond. Instead, he glanced at the other bodies and said, "Let's search them for abyssal pins. I don't know why the cultists haven't taken their bodies yet, but we might as well gain something from this horrible encounter."