Chapter 544: Eyes Like Ashen Graves
The battlefield fell silent for a breath, just before Alister took a single step forward—and the very ground beneath him fractured like glass.
His golden mana seeped through the earth like molten magma.
Helexor and the other apostles surged forward as one, their movements blurs of black and crimson.
Alister drew in a slow breath, his golden eyes flashing like twin suns, some traces of purple appearing in their depths. He exhaled, and in that moment, golden spikes erupted violently from the ground in every direction.
The apostles raised their defenses just in time, barriers of dark ether flaring to life as they were hurled backward by the sheer force of the eruption. The impact sent them crashing through rubble, skidding across the fractured earth.
They all drew their weapons and charged forward once more, dark blades and cursed spears gleaming with murderous intent.
Alister tilted his head as he smiled. "How relentless."
And then—
A massive golden portal burst open behind Alister, rippling outward like a sun tearing through the fabric of reality itself. The air grew heavy, the battlefield trembling beneath a sudden shift in power.
From its radiant depths, a colossal black dragon head emerged—eyes burning purple, its maw lined with jagged, shimmering fangs.
Without hesitation, the beast lunged forward.
CRUNCH.
In a single, horrifying instant, it clamped its jaws around one of the apostles mid-charge—biting him clean in half.
Blood and void essence sprayed through the air like crimson mist. The apostle’s upper torso screamed for a heartbeat before vanishing in a spray of ichor, devoured by the dragon’s burning maw.
The other apostles staggered, eyes wide with shock as they stumbled back from the portal. Helexor skidded to a halt mid-step, mouth ajar, his scythe lowering just slightly.
The apostles stood frozen, their minds racing to comprehend what they had just witnessed.
One of their own—an Apostle of the Abyss—had been annihilated in a single attack.
No incantation. No clash. No time to react.
Just death. Swift and absolute.
"How?" one of them whispered, disbelief etching every syllable. "That... that thing bypassed the mythos of our lord—"
"It didn’t even blink," another stammered, backing away, their cursed weapon trembling in hand. "How can a dragon that isn’t the Overlord have that level of divine authority? That presence—?"
A low rumble echoed from the golden portal, silencing their confusion like a blade across a throat.
Then came a voice—deep, guttural, ancient.
"Assuming the tricks you used to bind my brother would work on me... is beyond foolish."
The voice resonated like the roar of an erupting mountain, reverberating through the battlefield and shaking the bones of even the most battle-hardened.
The massive dragon head began to dissolve into violet smoke, its form dissipating like a nightmare at dawn. And from the heart of that golden breach in reality... he emerged.
A figure strode forth, tall and monstrous.
Silver hair swept behind him like a comet’s tail, each strand shimmering with divine essence. His eyes were a deep, soulless ashen gray—bottomless pits that glinted with old wrath and cosmic indifference. Rows of shark-like teeth flashed as he smiled, unnervingly wide.
[A/N: I accidentally called them purple last chap—forgive me.]
His body was clad in scales the color of midnight and void, black and purple interwoven in shifting patterns. Horns curled back from his temples, faintly glowing with internal heat. His hands, clawed and crackling with arcane energy, flexed slowly as if remembering what freedom felt like.
And in that moment, every single apostle took a single step back.
The being inhaled deeply, taking in the battlefield—the shattered ruins, the blood in the air, the stunned faces.
His grin widened.
"Ahh... I must admit," he said, his voice like velvet,
"this being the first sight to greet me upon my release fills me with joy. It almost feels like a welcome party."
He stepped forward once more, each movement effortless, terrifying.
His gaze landed on Eli’Erel, who hovered above, and smiled.
"You must be the entertainment."
The apostles didn’t move. Couldn’t move.
Even the air seemed to bow to him, rippling like a curtain caught in a storm.
The silence that followed was suffocating.
Even the wind dared not stir.
Eli’Erel’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly, her floating form still poised above the battlefield.
The figure—Alameck.
Turned his head slightly, surveying the apostles below with a curious detachment, as if they were insects scuttling beneath a boot he hadn’t yet decided to bring down.
Just then, he laughed darkly. Then grinned, revealing a row of sharp pointy teeth, his smile seemed to stretch from ear to ear.
"Nothing excites me more than the look of quiet dread on the faces of my prey when they realize just how doomed they are. The smell of fear... the sound of their heartbeat racing... their blood rushing as their puny minds scramble to find some desperate means to survive my—"
SWOOSH.
CLANG!
A flash of motion.
A black sword, faster than most could see, carved through the air toward his neck.
But Alameck’s hand moved faster.
In one fluid motion, he caught the blade between two fingers.
And in the next instant—
CRACK.
The weapon shattered like brittle glass, fragments scattering into the wind.
Gasps rippled through the apostles.
The one who had attacked wasn’t just anyone.
It was Eli’Erel.
Their mistress.
Her eyes widened in shock.
He had just shatted a sword made of the mythos of the house of Oboros as if it were made out of brittle glass.
Her strike had been not only blocked—but utterly dismissed.
Alameck’s eyes narrowed, annoyance flickering like a storm behind his ashen irises.
"I was in the middle of my opening speech, maggot," he said, voice low and venomous. "I don’t remember giving you permission to interrupt me."
BOOM.
A sudden pulse of pure black ether burst outward like a cannon blast.
Eli’Erel’s body stiffened.
And then—
SHLICK.
Her head flew from her shoulders.
Her body crumpled to the earth in a heap of black robes and crimson ichor.
A stunned silence followed.
But just as quickly as she fell—
her form rematerialized, high above the battlefield once more.
Coughing violently, Eli’Erel clutched her throat, trembling.
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