Chapter 1196 Again At Alka
A blast of unnatural cold tore through the chamber. Shadows writhed, converging on the gateway. Suddenly, silence fell, a suffocating calm far more terrifying than any roar, hinting at the unnatural power about to be unleashed. And then, the monstrous form didn't just solidify - it shifted, warped, dissolving into swirling tendrils of violet energy.
The Empyrean wasn't a creature of brute force, but of cunning manipulation. This wasn't its true form, but the first tendrils of its insidious influence, a promise of the illusions to come.
The Knight's ironclad resolve wavered, her greatsword trembling slightly as she braced herself. The lord whimpered in terror, his grand plans crumbling into oblivion. Only Caleb remained blissfully unaware.
Oriole's grip on the shard tightened. He knew this was a desperate gamble. This power coursing through him was as volatile as the Empyrean's own, a force of nature barely contained. If he failed...
As the violet energy writhed and twisted, Oriole felt the Empyrean's gaze fall upon him – not just scrutiny, but chilling appraisal. This thing was more than a villain, it was a force that sought to extinguish the very spark of life he now fueled. It saw in him its antithesis, a threat its careful plans had never accounted for.
The vines whipped and twisted, surging from the floor. Oriole poured the golden essence of creation into his makeshift weapon, not with precision, but with desperate necessity. The vines pulsed, and then burst outward, jagged thorns and strangling tendrils infused with the power of genesis.
He lashed out, not towards the flickering violet illusions, but the crumbling foundation of the room itself. The floor crumbled, walls shattered.
Dust and blinding light filled the air as Oriole sought not to defeat the Empyrean directly, but to destabilize the very fabric of this twisted world it sought to invade. He wanted to destroy the landing spot for this relentless empyrean.
Dust swirled in the blinding golden light. For a moment, it hid the horrifying violet tendrils from the gateway. The room shook violently, as if the very world itself was coming apart. Oriole's power was destroying the dungeon's foundations. Yet, he felt the Empyrean's rage burning through the chaos.
The Knight stumbled back, protecting Caleb in her arms. A piece of the ceiling crashed down right where they'd been standing just moments before.
The scholar screamed in terror. His plan for power was dissolving around him. Amidst the madness, Oriole felt a grim satisfaction. The power he borrowed from Arthur was a burden, but also a way to deny this traitor any reward.
The violet tendrils writhed. They lashed out, not towards Oriole, but towards the city lord. The once-powerful man was paralyzed with fear, the perfect victim for the Empyrean's tricks. He screamed as the tendrils wrapped around him, whispering cruel illusions.
Oriole tightened his grip on the golden shard. He couldn't let the Empyrean gain a foothold in their world. The vines surged with energy, driven by his desperate need to protect them. They whipped towards the gateway, thorns sharp as knives.
But the violet tendrils pulsed in response. The illusions grew stronger – claws and fanged mouths hungry for destruction.
"This... this is nothing!" the scholar shrieked, trying to sound brave. "Once my lord fully emerges..."
"He won't get that chance!" Oriole yelled back.
With all the strength he had left, he focused his power into the thorny vines. He aimed at the very heart of the gateway. His plan wasn't to destroy the Empyrean, he couldn't, but to shatter the connection between worlds.
The vines pierced the swirling violet illusions. Golden and violet light exploded. The gateway burst apart in a shower of shimmering fragments. The monster on the other side was cut off.
Silence fell. The air hung heavy with dust and the fading scent of magic. The scholar slumped against the wall, eyes wide with terror. He finally understood the true power of the being he served, and it was far beyond his control.
The lord was a whimpering mess. The brief touch of the Empyrean's magic had shattered his mind. Oriole watched him with pity. This broken man was a reminder of what could happen to them if they didn't escape.
The Knight cautiously approached. "It's...gone?" she asked, disbelief in her voice.
Oriole surveyed the wreckage. The vines were dying, the shard was fading. "For now," he said quietly. "But we've only survived one attack. This war, this dungeon...it's the Empyrean's creation. We have to escape to truly be free."
A tremor ran through the collapsing chamber. Oriole knew it wasn't just the failing dungeon, but the Empyrean's rage at being thwarted. Yet, a flicker of hope ignited in his chest. This world, this trap, wasn't unbreakable. The source of its twisted stability was the relic...
"The relic!" he shouted at the Knight, pointing to the pedestal where the city's half of the key once rested. "It kept this dungeon anchored! Now that it's gone..."
The Knight's eyes widened in understanding. She lunged forward, her greatsword slashing through the swirling dust. The pedestal was buried under rubble, but the shimmering aura of the relic was unmistakable.
"What do we do?" she barked, tense with anticipation.
Oriole tightened his grip on the fading golden shard. Arthur's power thrummed through him, a strange mix of exhaustion and determination. "Hold on tight!" he yelled, raising the shard.
He focused everything into that pulsating bit of light. It wasn't just a weapon, but a fragment of pure possibility. "Arthur, if you can hear me...guide us to Alka, to a world where this...thing has no reach!"
With a final, desperate surge of will, he shattered the relic beneath the Knight's blade. The world dissolved. Not into darkness, but into a blinding swirl of colors and energies. It was terrifying, exhilarating – they were adrift in the chaotic nothingness between realities.
Oriole felt himself fading, pulled apart by the cosmic forces. The Knight's grip was the only thing keeping him anchored, and even she was slipping away. Panic threatened to swallow him whole. Then, he remembered the golden shard.
"Arthur...Alka..." he gasped, focusing all his remaining strength on the image of the world he'd created, the world where his friends awaited.
The shard flared, not with destructive power, but with a guiding light. He felt a pull, a sense of direction in the swirling chaos.
He thrust the shard forward, letting its light guide him through the swirling madness. With a final, blinding flash, the universe spun, and he felt himself falling, the Knight and unconscious Caleb still clutched tightly in his grasp. Then, with a jarring thud, they landed. Not on solid ground, but on something soft, yielding. He felt grass beneath his fingers, smelled the fresh scent of a new world.
The cosmic spin ended in a jarring thud. Blinded by a new light, Oriole felt the ground beneath him, smelled the fresh scents of a new world. Above him, against a backdrop of an unfamiliar sky, the golden shard pulsed and then faded, leaving him a small, twinkling star amid a sea of unfamiliar constellations. Had it worked? Had Arthur's power, their desperate gamble, brought them to the haven they sought? He didn't know. But the oppressive, crushing presence of the Empyrean was gone. For now, that was enough.
Oriole blinked, greeted by a sea of gold. Wheat fields stretched endlessly, and farmers with pitchforks surrounded them, fear etched on their faces. The lord's screams had faded with the dungeon's collapse, leaving an eerie silence in his wake.
Caleb remained limp against him, a painful reminder of their ordeal. Then, a thundering echo – horses at full gallop. A squad of knights, clad in shining armor unlike any he'd seen, crested a gentle hill. They halted abruptly, their leader dismounting with swift efficiency...
"Knight of Courage," the captain greeted, his voice laced with awe and a touch of worship. "Your arrival is… unexpected. And this must be Lord Oriole, the fabled savior our world has awaited," the knight continued, his gaze shifting to Oriole, his posture unconsciously lowering in deference.
Oriole sagged slightly. So, the artefacts, the fleeting glimpses of this world he'd risked sending through the fissures...they hadn't been madness but warnings heeded. Relief mingled with the exhaustion coursing through his veins.
The Knight of Courage, with uncharacteristic weakness in her voice, gestured towards Caleb. "We need help."
Concern replaced awe on the knight captain's face. "Of course, my lady. But Lord Oriole...your visions... they foretold a war with Earth."
The word hung heavy in the air. Oriole knew. Arthur, their friends, Earth itself – still threatened by the machinations of the Seven Families. The visions hadn't shown victory, merely struggle and defiance. A silent vow formed within him. This haven was a respite, a breath before the storm.
"Indeed," said Oriole with a determined expression. "And I came here to lead you back to Earth, to help the Seika of Living Beings. Arthur needs our strength. We fight alongside them."
Cheers erupted. Fear turned to respect. Oriole, exhausted but hopeful, boarded the carriage. They weren't alone. He would lead, fight with Arthur, and face the enemy united.
The empyrean could watch them no more, becoming just a distant memory in the backburner of his brain. Oriole slumped in the carriage, resting at last, as he has escaped a terrible fate. However, as the hostage he has taken rested beside him, Oriole wondered if he could even make use of Caleb anymore. Everything has changed now.
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