Chapter 608 What she would do for love...
The aftermath of the explosion painted a grim tableau across the desolate wastelands. The once-barren landscape, already scarred by the ravages of time, now bore the fresh wounds inflicted by the cataclysmic self-destruction of the Primordial Beast. The very air seemed to hang heavy with the acrid scent of destruction, as though the elements themselves recoiled from the unleashed forces.
In the heart of the devastation, pools of boiling blue blood simmered, a grotesque reminder of the otherworldly essence that once coursed through the veins of the now-vanquished creature. The earth, charred and cracked, bore witness to the intensity of the inferno that had consumed all in its path. It was a surreal canvas of destruction, with remnants of arcane energies playing a spectral dance across the desolation.
Amidst the chaos, the figures of Governor Momoa and the dragon emerged as testaments to the ferocity of the unleashed explosion. Governor Momoa, though battered and wounded, stood defiant. The blast had claimed one of his mighty arms, leaving a raw and grisly wound in its wake. His once-imposing figure now bore the scars of the inferno, with flesh and muscle hanging grotesquely from his chin, exposing the raw sinew beneath.
On the other hand, the dragon, Mr. Augustus of the royal Abbadon family, lay sprawled on the scorched earth. Its colossal form, once a symbol of indomitable power, had been cleaved in half by the force of the explosion. A gaping void replaced what was once a majestic creature, the remnants of its body a grotesque spectacle of torn sinews and exposed bone.
Despite the unfathomable devastation, the dragon's eyes flickered with a dim but unmistakable glint. The flames of determination burned in those crimson orbs, revealing a fierce resolve to endure despite the overwhelming odds. It was a testament to the tenacity of a creature bred for survival, even in the face of seemingly insurmountable destruction.
As the dust settled, revealing the macabre aftermath, a solemn stillness descended upon the scene. The wails of the wind carried echoes of the recent upheaval, while the distant cries of avian scavengers hinted at the unfolding tragedy below.
In this surreal landscape, unaffected by the chaos, stood Lenny, Glenn, Father Black, and the faithful dog. The protective spells woven by Glenn had shielded them from the destructive forces that had reshaped the land. Their figures, untouched by the carnage surrounding them, stood as solitary beacons in the aftermath of annihilation.
Yet, despite the apparent victory, an air of tension lingered. The wounded figures of Governor Momoa and the defiant dragon bore witness to the price exacted by the destructive forces they sought to harness.
The wastelands, now marked by the scars of both time and turmoil, seemed to groan in silent lamentation for the transient beauty that once adorned its desolate expanse.
The tension that had momentarily loosened its grip on the battlefield returned in an instant. As the air hung heavy with the acrid scent of destruction, a figure, swift as a gust of wind, materialized from the shadows.
It was Cuban, a spectral embodiment bathed in the crimson hue of blood.
Hovering above Lenny's prone form, Cuban wielded a blade forged from his own life essence, its gleaming surface adorned with golden runes. The intent behind this ethereal assailant was clear — to strike down Lenny, to extinguish the source of defiance that had weathered the storm of great demonic forces.
With the cold determination characteristic of demons, Cuban directed his blade towards Lenny's heart, seeking to end the resilient soul that had become a thorn at his side.
However, fate had other plans, and the sudden, synchronized screams of anguish cut through the air.
lightsΝοvεl ?οm The source of the heart-wrenching cries was none other than Glenn and Vinegar, the two women who shared a profound connection with Lenny. In that critical moment, as the blade descended with deadly precision, only one of them sprang into action.
In an instant, Glenn, the witch with formidable magical prowess, appeared before the oncoming blade. She had harnessed her teleportation abilities to bridge the gap between life and death. The blade, intended for Lenny's heart, passed through the back of Glenn's neck instead.
*SLUSH!*
The sudden appearance of Glenn before the blade altered the course of fate. Her sacrifice, a courageous act to shield the man she held dear, mirrored the profound depth of her feelings. The blade, now stained with the life essence of the witch, hung suspended in the air, its deadly trajectory disrupted by the unforeseen twist of destiny.
As the eerie silence settled over the battlefield, Glenn's form stood between Lenny and the imminent threat. The golden runes on the blade flickered ominously, tainted by the blood of a sacrifice. It was a tableau frozen in time, a snapshot of sacrifice and love, etched against the backdrop of destruction.
Vinegar, her eyes wide with shock and grief, watched the scene unfold. The realization of what had just occurred pierced through her heart, a painful acknowledgment of the selflessness that characterized Glenn's love for Lenny.
Lenny's eyes widened in shock as he gazed into Glenn's eyes, a reflection of his own disbelief mirrored in hers. The weight of the moment hung in the air, and one might have expected desperation or fear to cloud Glenn's expression. Instead, a serene smile played on her lips as blood seeped from her mouth, staining the air with an ominous hue.
Her gingered colored hair danced in the wind, a silent acknowledgement to her pride in the sacrifice of her own life for the survival of his.
With deliberate slowness, Glenn raised a trembling hand toward Lenny's cheek, a final caress that spoke volumes in its silent intimacy. In the midst of impending tragedy, her lips parted to whisper words that echoed with a profound depth of emotion, "I love you."
Time seemed to stretch and contort, a surreal interlude where the world paused to witness this poignant exchange.
Lenny, stricken with the sudden revelation of Glenn's sacrifice, felt a profound sense of loss wash over him. The reality of her selfless act hit him like a tidal wave, and in a desperate attempt to reverse the inevitable, he screamed, "NO!" The anguish in his voice resonated through the air, but the irreversible had already unfolded.
In that frozen moment, as Glenn's smile lingered like a bittersweet memory...
(Author's note: What!? You guys saw this coming too... Damn, I miss her already. Lets hear your comments, please.)
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