"Damn it... I don’t rember her being this powerful," Kael’thus growled under his breath, blood leaking from the corner of his mouth as he knelt. Gritting his teeth, he yanked a diamond-shaped crystal from a pouch hidden to his side.
With a surge of mana, the gem flared to life—and instantly cracked, releasing wisps of crimson vapor.
The red fus spiraled into his body like hungry spirits, instantly sealing his internal bleeding and dulling the pain. Warmth spread through his limbs, and for a fleeting mont, he felt like his younger self—brimming with clarity, energy, and ruthless purpose.
This was no ordinary gem. It was a Vhalka Shard.
A rare relic mined only in the depths of the Khalidon Archipelago on the distant Tou-oh Continent—ho to the rfolk and the sleeping Primordial Beast known as Vhalka the White. The Shards, when fed precise mana, could grant instantaneous healing and temporary battle resurgence. Extrely precious and limited in supply.
And Kael’thus had just used one.
Raijen, battered and buried half in rubble, did the sa. He slapped his own Vhalka Shard onto his chest. A sharp breath escaped him as the healing mist soaked through his wounds and knit them shut with divine speed. Their swift recovery didn’t escape Queen Elarya’s watchful eye—and her expression tightened.
’So they ca prepared.’
Still, the mbers of the Dark Fate weren’t expecting the elven queen to be this strong. Especially Kael’thus.
Last he saw her, she had barely broken into the realm of ascendants. Now she was two levels beyond—still graceful, still regal, but deadlier than ever.
"I need to end this... now." Elarya’s gaze flicked toward the volcano in the distance. Her heartbeat accelerated.
High above the battlefield, the seventh mber—Eyistha—was nearing the summit.
The red wyvern she rode dipped low, soaring through ash and molten embers as it descended toward the foot of Mount Vulkris. Just a few heartbeats more, and the unsealing would begin. The chains that had bound the legendary beast for centuries would fracture—and the Runewood would never be the sa.
Once Vulkris was freed, the fragile balance between life and destruction in this sacred forest would unravel. And not even Queen Elarya, in all her strength and sovereign might, could stop what would follow—not while the Dark Fate stood between her and the ritual.
And worst of all...
Vulkris rembered.
There was one being the beast despised above all others. One na burned into his ancient, smoldering rage.
Elarya.
It had been her hand that sealed him away three hundred years ago. Her command that brought the enchanted chains. Her sacrifice—of hundreds of brave souls and a once-in-a-lifeti artifact gifted by the last High Matriarch of the Elves, now long faded into eternal slumber.
That burden still haunted her.
And now, it was all about to return.
Elarya’s breath grew still. Her eyes narrowed in divine resolve.
Then, without a word, the six ethereal tails behind her unfurled in unison—no longer re appendages, but luminous golden wings brimming with ancient power. They spread wide, like fans of pure starlight, illuminating the scorched earth below.
A surge of magic exploded from her core.
The very stones beneath her feet cracked apart, splintered by the pressure. The air itself recoiled, trembling with the weight of her unleashed force. Wind howled. Trees bent. Light distorted around her fra.
Queen Elarya had reached her limit.
She was finished holding back.
Kael’thus instinctively stiffened. His knuckles clenched around the hilt of his blade. "Stop her! Now!"
The others didn’t need a second order.
In synchronized fury, the Dark Fate unleashed a torrent of attacks—earth spikes erupted from the ground, lightning bolts tore through the red sky, frozen spears shrieked through the air, and waves of compressed water pounded forward like liquid hamrs. All aid at the sa radiant figure darting toward the volcano.
But Elarya danced through them like a streak of verdant lightning.
She didn’t just fly—she wove. Her wings defied gravity. Her spear slashed through spell after spell with such precision, it seed as if she moved faster than light itself. An elegant blur of force and fury, leaving behind only glimring trails and shattered terrain.
Each attack could have killed a lesser foe. But she treated them like leaves in the wind.
Fortunately she wasn’t careless. She couldn’t afford to be.
She knew what kind of warriors qualified for the Dark Fate.
Every single attack could be a trap. Every spell, a lethal riddle. She ducked. Twisted. Countered. Blocked. Her spear humd with divine power, parrying bolts and shattering frozen lances midair.
And then—Kael’thus stood in her path.
He raised his frost-edged blade with a grin.
"You’re not going anywhere, Sister."
She didn’t slow down. "And how exactly are you planning to stop ? "
Her grip on her spear tightened. She swung in a swift, vicious arc—intending to knock him aside. She didn’t want to kill him. Not yet.
She was planning to deal with him later, and hopefully beat so sense back into his twisted head.
But then Kael’thus did sothing she never anticipated.
He lifted his other hand—and let go.
A cascade of rings and enchanted trinkets slipped from his fingers, clinking as they fell. Each one glimred with familiar runes, each one unmistakably hers.
It was the gifts, protective rings she had given him long ago. Symbols of her protection... of her love for her only family.
Her eyes frowned deeper.
"Kael’thus, what are you doing?!"
Panic flared in her voice—but it was already too late.
A twisted smile spread across his face as he plunged his shimring blue sword into his own abdon without hesitation.
Elarya froze mid-flight, her breath caught painfully in her throat.
No... he wasn’t defending himself. He wasn’t overpowered.He had done it.Willingly and deliberately.Right in front of her.
Her mind reeled, refusing to accept what her eyes had seen—Kael’thus, her only brother and family left, impaling himself with that cursed blade as if his own life were just another pawn in his twisted ga.
She staggered in the air, her wings faltering for a heartbeat. The spear in her grip trembled.Her fingers clenched. Her heart cracked. And her focus?
Gone.
A scream of anguish threatened to tear through her, rising like fire in her chest—but she didn’t let it escape. She bit it back with the discipline of a queen, of a warrior... of a sister who’d been betrayed one too many tis.
But it was too late.
That single mont—that fracture in her concentration, that split-second where emotion shattered her guard—was all they needed.
The storm ca instantly.
From every direction, the mbers of the Dark Fate pounced.
An ice spear caught on her right leg, a lightning bolt landed on her back...
Multi-elental spells crashed into her like tidal waves from hell. Ice. Lightning. Water. Stone.
It was pure force.
BOOM!
BOOM!!
BOOM!!!
Each hit echoed across the Eterna Hollow like a funeral drum. The land shook. Light and smoke blinded the skies.
Elarya’s figure vanished beneath a storm of magic—engulfed in a cataclysm of raw elental fury.
Blinding light. Deafening thunder. The battlefield shook with the force of it.
She was swallowed whole—no silhouette, no cry, no resistance left visible. Just the violent convergence of the Dark Fate’s full might.
Kael’thus dropped to one knee.
His vision blurred. Blood poured from the wound in his abdon, soaking through his robes like ink in water. His fingers, still curled around the hilt of his own blade, trembled. Every breath he took was jagged, shallow.
And yet... he smiled.
A broken, bitter smile.
But his eyes told a different story—tears stread freely down his cheeks, silent and hot. He didn’t wipe them away.
He had prepared for this mont. Practiced it. Justified it.Over and over in his mind, he had told himself it was necessary.
Sacrifices had to be made—for a brighter future, for his vision of a new Runewood. An empire born not from tradition or divine birthright, but forged by strength, unity, and will.
If one kingdom had to fall to make way for his, let it be hers.
If a crown had to be broken, let it be the one that blocked his path.
Even if that crown belonged to his sister.
Even if that sister had once held him close as family, as kin.
There could be no room for sentint. No room for hesitation. Not anymore.
He had thrown everything away for this.For power.For legacy.For destiny.
And yet—
As he clutched his heart, staring into the swirling chaos where Elarya’s body had disappeared beneath the rain of spells, sothing inside him cracked.
One stray thought broke through the iron walls of his conviction.
"Why..." he murmured, barely audible, as if the question was ant only for the silence.
"Why does this... hurt more than I ever imagined?"
In the reflection of his golden eyes, the final image burned itself into mory—Elarya, mid-fall, her arms reaching out, her radiant wings torn apart, consud by the cascade of destructive light.
And in that mont, Kael’thus realized—
The agony tearing through his chest far outweighed the wound in his gut.
And for all his grand dreams and impossible ambition, that image haunted him like a curse he could never unsee.
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