447: War XX 447: War XX Aiden didn’t answer imdiately.
He looked down at his hand, flexing his fingers.
Even now, the energy from the battle lingered within him—not just his own power, but sothing older.
It wasn’t just strength.
It was authority.
An echo of sothing far greater than himself.
He clenched his fist, suppressing the feeling.
“We’ll figure it out later.
Right now, we need to move before more Abyssal reinforcents arrive.” Rick shot him a skeptical look but nodded.
“Fine.
But you owe us so answers once we’re clear.” With that, the team activated the teleportation rune.
The world blurred— —and shifted.
They reappeared in the heart of the resistance’s hidden base—a massive underground fortress carved into the mountains, its halls illuminated by floating glyphs and intricate spell formations.
The air buzzed with energy, and the scent of burning incense mixed with tal and stone.
Soldiers, mages, and engineers bustled through the corridors, reinforcing barriers, repairing weapons, and tending to the wounded.
This place was the last bastion against the Abyss in this region.
Aiden barely had ti to breathe before a familiar voice called out.
“You’re back.” A tall woman approached, her long silver hair tied back, wearing the dark armor of the resistance’s elite guard.
Commander Selene.
Her piercing blue eyes flicked over them, assessing injuries before settling on Aiden.
“Report,” she ordered.
Rick stepped forward.
“Abyssal General eliminated.
Enemy forces scattered, but we encountered a… complication.” Selene’s gaze sharpened.
“Complication?” Aiden hesitated.
“A man nad Vael appeared after the battle.
He knew about the First Harbinger—about .” Selene’s expression darkened.
For the first ti, Aiden saw sothing in her eyes that unsettled him.
Not just concern.
Recognition.
“You know him,” he said.
Selene didn’t confirm or deny it.
Instead, she turned sharply.
“Follow .
Now.” The urgency in her voice silenced any further questions.
Selene led them deep into the sanctum, past layers of magical wards and locked doors, until they arrived at a sealed chamber.
With a wave of her hand, ancient runes flared to life, and the heavy stone doors groaned open.
Inside, a massive mural stretched across the walls—a depiction of a battle lost to ti.
A lone figure stood at the center, wielding a radiant blade, surrounded by dark creatures with eyes like endless voids.
Above him lood a shadowy monarch, crowned in abyssal flas.
Aiden’s breath caught in his throat.
The figure in the mural—he had seen that stance before.
It was his own.
Selene turned to face them.
“The First Harbinger wasn’t just a warrior.
He was the one who stood between our world and the Abyss.
He was the one who sealed the Abyssal King away.” Aiden could barely process the weight of those words.
“And Vael?” Selene exhaled.
“A shadow of the past.
If he’s resurfaced now… it ans the Abyssal King’s seal is weakening.” A heavy silence settled over the room.
Finally, Rick muttered, “So what you’re saying is… we just traded one war for another?” Selene’s expression was grim.
“No.
I’m saying this war was never over.” Aiden stared at the mural, his fists tightening.
The battle had just begun.
Aiden stood before the mural, his pulse steady but his mind racing.
The image burned into his thoughts—a lone warrior standing against an endless tide of darkness.
The weight of those expectations, of that legacy, pressed down on him like an unseen force.
“So what now?” Dren finally broke the silence.
“Are we supposed to fight a sealed Abyssal King with what, grit and determination?” Selene didn’t answer imdiately.
She walked to a pedestal beneath the mural, placing her palm on an ancient sigil carved into the stone.
The entire chamber shuddered, and a compartnt slid open, revealing a long, obsidian-colored chest.
“This,” she said, her voice edged with aning, “is what we’ve been preparing for.” She stepped aside, allowing Aiden to approach.
He felt it before he even touched it—a familiar pull, like a whisper in his soul.
He unlatched the chest, and inside lay a weapon unlike any other.
A hilt—nothing more.
It was a simple thing, black as the void, engraved with golden runes.
No blade extended from it, and yet, when Aiden’s fingers brushed against it, power surged through him like wildfire.
mories—not his own—flashed across his vision.
A battle on the edge of existence.
The First Harbinger, standing alone, his blade alight with the essence of creation itself.
The Abyssal King laughing as the void threatened to consu everything.
A desperate final strike—one that sealed the darkness away, but at a terrible cost.
Aiden staggered back, breathing heavily.
Selene placed a steady hand on his shoulder.
“That weapon belonged to the First Harbinger.
It’s called Lun Noctis—the Blade of the Last Light.
And it chooses its wielder.” Aiden looked down at the hilt.
Even now, he could feel it calling to him.
Rick whistled low.
“So let get this straight.
We’re dealing with an Abyssal King about to break free, and our best shot is Aiden unlocking his inner Chosen One mode with a sword that doesn’t even have a blade?” Selene gave him a pointed look.
“It will have a blade—when Aiden is ready.” “Great,” Rick muttered.
“So we’re on a ticking clock.” Aiden tightened his grip around the hilt.
He could feel sothing there, waiting to be unleashed.
But whether he could control it… That was another matter entirely.
The next few days passed in a blur.
The resistance mobilized, preparing for the worst.
Scouts reported increased Abyssal movents at the borders—Vael’s appearance wasn’t just a warning; it was a sign that sothing was coming.
Aiden trained relentlessly, trying to awaken Lun Noctis.
Each ti he activated it, golden light flickered along the hilt, but no blade ever ford.
It was as if sothing within him still held back.
“You’re hesitating,” Myne observed one evening, watching from the shadows.
“You’re afraid of what might happen if you truly unleash it.” Aiden exhaled sharply.
“Wouldn’t you be?” Myne tilted her head.
“Power doesn’t change you, Aiden.
It just reveals what’s already there.” Aiden stared at her, then at the hilt in his hands.
What was he holding back?
And more importantly—what would happen when he let go?
The attack ca at dawn.
Dark clouds swallowed the sky, and a wave of Abyssal creatures poured from the horizon, their corrupted forms twisting and shifting.
At the center of it all—Vael.
His abyssal cloak billowed around him, his silver eyes locked onto Aiden.
“It’s ti,” he said, his voice carrying over the battlefield.
“Prove yourself, Harbinger.
Or be swallowed by the darkness like all the others before you.” Aiden stepped forward, Lun Noctis in hand.
His heart pounded, but his resolve was clear.
This was it.
No more running.
No more hesitation.
The battle for the future began now.
Aiden took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the mont press down on him.
The battlefield was a sea of writhing Abyssal horrors, their bodies shifting between solid and shadow.
Behind him, his team readied themselves—Rick charged his gauntlets with crackling energy, Myne lded into the shadows, and Dren cracked his knuckles, eyes burning with focus.
At the heart of the chaos stood Vael, the Abyssal Herald.
He radiated an aura of cold inevitability, his silver eyes gleaming with amusent.
“You hesitate even now,” he mused.
“Are you still afraid to wield the power ant for you?” Aiden gritted his teeth and tightened his grip around Lun Noctis.
The hilt pulsed with dormant energy, waiting—expecting.
Sothing inside him stirred.
Then, the Abyss attacked.
The creatures lunged forward in an unrelenting tide.
Rick unleashed a wave of force, shattering the first wave.
Myne moved like a phantom, her shadows slicing through the air, severing limbs before lting back into darkness.
Dren charged straight into the fray, his blows landing like earthquakes, sending creatures flying.
Aiden stood firm, his eyes locked onto Vael.
“I won’t hesitate anymore.” He stepped forward, raising the hilt.
The golden runes ignited, and for the first ti—the blade manifested.
A blade of pure radiance erupted from the hilt, humming with ancient power.
It wasn’t made of tal, but of sothing far greater—a fragnt of the First Harbinger’s very essence.
Vael grinned.
“Finally.” He moved.
In the blink of an eye, Vael was in front of Aiden, his obsidian blade crashing down.
Aiden barely had ti to react—he raised Lun Noctis, and the two forces collided.
The world split.
The ground beneath them cracked.
Shockwaves rippled outward, throwing back both Abyssals and allies alike.
Aiden felt the force of Vael’s attack trying to overwhelm him, pressing down like an abyssal tide.
But he held firm.
Then, he retaliated.
Aiden twisted his blade, channeling all his energy into a counterstrike.
The golden light surged, pushing back the darkness, and for the first ti—Vael was forced to retreat.
The Abyssal Herald landed a few ters away, inspecting his now-cracked blade.
He chuckled, looking almost… pleased.
“You’re not the sa as before.” Aiden didn’t reply.
He didn’t need to.
He took his stance once more, golden energy surging through his veins.
This wasn’t just about surviving.
This was about winning.
And for the first ti—Aiden felt like he just might.
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