Author Note: There are 2 versions of this chapter, both are present within this chapter. The first one is complex and the other is not. So choose your difficulty level and proceed.
Chapter 114 - No.
Amidst this tumultuous onslaught stood Helios and Roxana, paragons of resolute defiance. The very fabric of reality seemed to warp and undulate around them as they summoned forth their arcane might. The air itself became electric, charged with an otherworldly potency as they unleashed a cataclysmic tempest of antithetical forces—light and shadow, locked in an eternal pas de deux of creation and annihilation. This metaphysical maelstrom collided with the corporeal chaos of the barbarian horde, a clash of elemental fury against primal savagery.
Helios' appendages pulsated with sinuous ebony filaments, undulating with an unsettling vitality as if imbued with eldritch sentience. His once-auriferous orbs transmuted into fathomless voids, emanating an otherworldly luminescence that spoke of cosmic secrets. With a gesture both elegant and terrible, he extended his palms outward, unleashing from his digits a barrage of umbral projectiles that streaked through the ether like wrathful phantasms. This tenebrous sorcery collided with the aggressors, an unnatural force that enveloped them in a writhing penumbra, insidiously infiltrating their very essence. Agonized ululations rent the air as the shadows inexorably consumed their victims from within, reducing once-vital forms to desiccated husks, bereft of the spark of existence.
Juxtaposed against this display of eldritch might, Roxana's presence was a study in fluid incandescence, her movements a choreography of controlled conflagration. Her digits wove an intricate tapestry of arcane sigils, leaving in their wake shimmering trails of violet radiance that hung suspended in the air like cosmic calligraphy.
At her behest, diaphanous aegises materialized, their crystalline surfaces deflecting crude implements of destruction with an ethereal resonance. A particularly audacious marauder, driven by bloodlust, lunged towards her with murderous intent, his blade poised for a lethal strike. With a gesture as subtle as it was devastating, Roxana unleashed a concentrated pulse of raw, unadulterated energy. The chromatic blast catapulted her assailant through the tangled sylvan understory, the sickening cacophony of shattering osseous structures bearing testament to the overwhelming force of her arcane prowess.
The sylvan glade metamorphosed into a phantasmagorical arena, where the very fabric of reality warped and undulated. Helios' tenebrous sorcery wove through the ether, birthing abyssal vortices of such profound darkness that they seemed to devour light itself. These eldritch maws consumed their victims with an insatiable hunger, silencing agonized cries as if the cosmos itself had reclaimed errant fragments of creation. Juxtaposed against this umbral onslaught, Roxana's thaumaturgical prowess manifested in coruscating arcs of effulgent energy, each gesture leaving in its wake a tapestry of chromatic brilliance. The air itself seemed to ignite with her passage, ephemeral embers of pure radiance flickering briefly before succumbing to the inexorable march of entropy.
This cataclysmic confrontation, though seemingly interminable in its ferocity, spanned but a handful of fleeting moments. Amidst the maelstrom of arcane devastation, a singular movement, sharp and purposeful, pierced through Helios' battle-honed awareness.
A solitary marauder, his visage a cartography of scars etched by a lifetime of lawless depredation, extricated himself from the chaotic fray. His predatory gaze, glinting with avarice, fixated upon a prize far more tantalizing than the immediate conflict—the carriage that stood as a silent sentinel to their struggle.
A frisson of primal dread lanced through Helios' being, electric in its intensity. His respiratory rhythm faltered, and the pulsation of his lifeblood thundered in his auditory canals with deafening insistence. A single word, pregnant with desperate urgency, reverberated through his consciousness: Luxana.
The brigand moved with a velocity that belied his brutish appearance, his form weaving through the detritus of fallen comrades with serpentine grace. He vaulted over lifeless husks, his trajectory unerringly aimed at the vulnerable conveyance. Helios pivoted, ebon energies still coiling about his digits like restless chthonic entities. He raised his hand, poised to unleash eldritch retribution—but in that moment, his very essence seemed to crystallize, transfixed by a sight that transmuted his blood to glacial ice.
There, ensconced against the weathered timber of the carriage portal, lay Luxana. Her diminutive form remained motionless, her respiration measured and tranquil, blissfully unaware of the cataclysmic maelstrom erupting in her immediate vicinity. The gentle undulation of her thorax presented a poignant juxtaposition to the brutal pandemonium unfolding mere paces away.
The marauder's begrimed appendages extended towards her, his visage contorting into a rictus of malevolent anticipation.
No.
A primal vociferation erupted from the depths of Helios' being, an atavistic cry of unadulterated, unbridled fury. He propelled himself forward, ebon energy cascading from his entire form in wild, unrestrained torrents. Yet, as he verged upon closing the critical distance, an unseen force wrenched him backwards.
Agony lanced through his corporeal form as calloused hands ensnared his limbs, dragging him away with alarming vigor. More brigands. They had been lying in wait, anticipating this precise moment of vulnerability. Helios thrashed with feral intensity, his tenebrous sorcery erupting outward in a cataclysmic surge, but the sheer numerical superiority of his assailants proved overwhelming. They descended upon him like a pack of ravenous lupine predators, inexorably subduing him despite his Herculean struggles.
Roxana pivoted, her violet orbs dilating in abject horror as she witnessed Helios' fall. She raised her hands, summoning forth another chromatic blast of arcane energy—but the protracted conflict had exacted a grievous toll on her thaumaturgical reserves. Her protective aegises flickered erratically, her eldritch might sputtering like the dying embers of a once-roaring conflagration. A sudden, sharp impact assailed her from behind, sending searing agony cascading through her cranium. Her visual perception distorted, the world around her devolving into a vertiginous blur as she succumbed to gravity's inexorable pull, collapsing upon the loamy earth.
The marauder emitted a triumphant, guttural cachinnation. Luxana remained blissfully oblivious, her diminutive form still quiescent in his uncouth grasp as he propelled himself skyward with preternatural agility. Bounding from bough to bough with simian dexterity, he vanished into the verdant canopy above. His confederates followed suit, dissolving into the sylvan depths with a fluidity that bespoke long practice, their egress as seamless as it was swift.
And then, a deafening silence descended.
The conflagration of conflict had been extinguished.
Helios collapsed to his knees, his entire corporeal form wracked with violent tremors. His tenebrous thaumaturgy flickered and dissipated, the final vestiges of umbral energy curling impotently into the ether. Roxana, with a pained groan, forced her battered form upright on quavering limbs, her once-resplendent violet aura now diminished to a mere phantasmal glimmer.
The vacated carriage stood as a mute testament to their catastrophic failure.
The forest, so recently a crucible of arcane fury and martial chaos, resumed its quiet, indifferent mockery. Avian melodies once again pierced the air. Zephyrs whispered their secrets through the arboreal canopy. The cosmic tapestry of existence continued its inexorable weave, utterly indifferent to the profound devastation wrought upon these mortal souls.
In this moment of crushing defeat, the natural world's placid continuance served only to underscore the magnitude of their loss, a cruel reminder of the cosmic insignificance of even the most personal of tragedies.
Chapter 114 - No.
The tranquil stillness of the forest shattered in an instant. A battle cry rang out as the barbarian bandits burst from the underbrush, their jagged weapons gleaming under the filtered sunlight. Leaves and dirt flew into the air as they charged, their faces twisted with greed and malice. The scent of sweat and blood tainted the crisp woodland breeze.
Helios and Roxana stood their ground. The air crackled with raw energy as they unleashed their powers, a storm of darkness and light colliding against the chaos.
Helios' hands pulsed with inky black tendrils, twisting and writhing as though alive. His ruby red eyes darkened to pools of abyss, radiating an eerie glow. He thrust his palms outward, and from his fingertips, bolts of shadow streaked through the air like vengeful specters. The black magic struck the attackers with an unnatural force—shrouding them in a writhing darkness that slithered into their skin. The bandits screamed as the shadows consumed them from within, their bodies convulsing before collapsing into lifeless husks.
Beside him, Roxana moved like liquid fire, her presence commanding and relentless. Her fingers traced glowing sigils in the air, leaving behind shimmering trails of violet light. At her command, translucent shields materialized around her, deflecting crude axes and arrows with a crystalline shimmer. A bandit lunged at her, his dagger poised to strike—but with a flick of her wrist, a pulse of raw energy erupted from her palm. The violet blast sent him hurtling backward, crashing through tangled undergrowth with bone-snapping force.
The clearing became a battlefield of shifting shadows and dazzling light. Helios' black magic twisted through the air, creating voids of impenetrable darkness that swallowed men whole, their screams choked off as if the abyss itself had claimed them. Roxana's energy arced in brilliant pulses, painting the air with radiant hues, her every movement leaving behind glowing embers that faded into nothingness.
The clash raged on for what felt like an eternity, but in reality, it was only minutes. And then—amidst the chaos—a sharp movement caught Helios' attention.
A lone bandit, his skin tanned and rough from a life of lawless brutality, broke from the fray, his eyes locked onto something far more valuable than the battle at hand. The carriage.
A jolt of dread shot through Helios like lightning. His breath hitched, and his pulse pounded in his ears. Luxana.
The bandit moved with terrifying speed, weaving between fallen comrades and leaping over bodies as he sprinted towards the carriage. Helios spun around, black energy still coiling around his fingers like restless serpents. He raised his hand to strike—but his blood turned to ice.
There, curled up against the wooden carriage door, lay Luxana. Her small form was still, her breathing slow and steady, oblivious to the chaos erupting around her. The soft rise and fall of her chest was a cruel contrast to the violence that raged only feet away.
The bandit's grimy hands reached for her, his lips curling into a wicked grin.
No.
A guttural roar tore from Helios' throat, an animalistic cry of pure, unfiltered rage. He surged forward, black energy erupting from his entire being, wild and unchecked. But just as he closed the distance, something yanked him back.
Pain lanced through his body as rough hands clamped around his arms, pulling him away with startling force. More bandits. They had been waiting for an opening. He thrashed violently, black magic surging outward in an explosive burst, but there were too many. They swarmed him like starving wolves, dragging him down despite his struggles.
Roxana turned, her zircon blue eyes widening in horror as she saw Helios fall. She raised her hands, another energy blast forming—but the prolonged fight had drained her. The shields flickered, her magic sputtering like a dying ember. A sharp impact struck her from behind, and pain seared through her skull. Her vision blurred, the world spinning as she collapsed to the dirt.
The bandit let out a triumphant, guttural laugh. Luxana remained unaware, her small body still limp in his arms as he leaped upward with inhuman agility. Bounding from branch to branch, he disappeared into the dense canopy above. His comrades followed, melting into the depths of the forest, their escape seamless, practiced.
And then, silence.
The battle was over.
Helios fell to his knees, his entire body trembling. His black magic flickered and died, the last remnants of shadow curling uselessly into the air. Roxana groaned, forcing herself up on shaking arms, her purple glow reduced to a faint glimmer.
The empty carriage stood as a silent monument to their failure.
The forest, so recently a battleground of magic and fury, resumed its quiet mockery. Birds began to chirp once more. The wind whispered through the leaves. The world continued, indifferent to their devastation.
To be Continued...