Chapter 319: Is It The End? (1)

Piercing golden eyes sighted the tiny dot of light trembling at the end of his bloodied right paw. It shook rapidly, twitching as if being controlled by unstable hands. It climbed a few inches up his paw as if tickling him. Before he could ignore it, the little dot of light rapidly switched locations, hastily heading towards the Dark Beast's body, climbing it, and then stopping on the central eye of the beast. It circled the eye for a couple of seconds before vanishing.

Accrius beat his wings as he gazed at the third eye of the massive corrupted creature that was once his brother. He resisted the urge to look for the dot's origin, knowing that the person was risking his life in helping him. The eye must have meant something. Perhaps... a weakness?

Accrius's eyes narrowed. He bared his fangs, and a tremendous roar escaped his mouth. His wings stretched outwards magnificently as his paws slammed the ground beneath him, claws digging ideeply into the earth, he lunged towards his opponent.

The Black Lion witnessed his persistence and grew furious. Wrath overflowed within his blood-red pupils. Driven by the thirst for blood, he imagined gutting this stubborn animal and letting his people feast on his mangled flesh. This undeveloped worthless maggot! The earth shook as he moved his limbs and charged towards the useless winged animal. He was too focused on the match that he didn't notice the maeruthans' suspicious movements.

At the same time, a distance away from the battle of the two beasts, a particular silver-eyed young man clenched his slender fingers into a fist, crushing the mirror-like ice within his palm, turning it into dust of ice. Moulin gritted his teeth and inhaled.

'Growl!'

Moulin closed his eyes. 'Ah, damn it.'

In the end, he was still caught. Moulin opened his eyes and faced a couple of orcs eyeing him like predators discovering new prey. The Moulin sighed. He knew there was very little chance that he wouldn't be discovered aiding Accrius, but he was still a bit confident of the idea. It was lame, but it worked. The orcs had turned their head to the broken dais one after the other like a chain reaction, oblivious to the nearby maeruthans plastering themselves against the wall with confused and fearful expressions.

The orcs are advancing towards where Moulin stood. A vengeful aura cloaked them tight as if they were lost soldiers that rose from the graves to seek revenge on those who had ended them. Somewhere within the crowd of manic orcs, Emlen slipped through them, passing word to non-orcan men to withdraw and move close to the walls if they wished to keep their lives.

The Lord paused when he spotted Malyana, injured and staring at the chaotic battle of the two massive creatures. She was leaning against one of Harow's long arms, tucked in the curve of the giant's elbow. Her fingers clenched tightly, almost drawing blood. The more she looked, the more her blood boiled. She yearned to be the one to take the damned Orc's head. She dreamed of having his severed limbs beneath her foot as she spat on his lifeless face. She should have been the one to...

"Malyana!"

She snapped out of her thoughts, noticing a tight grip around her wrist. She didn't realize she had escaped Harow's hold and was heading towards the orc's duel. Stopping her was Emlen, sweat collected on his brows as he held her.

"What are you doing?"

Malyana faltered. She had always been confident before Emlen's eyes. "I..."

"This is no longer your fight. Understand it for all of us. You will get your chance at the right time. But not now. Not during these circumstances. There are people we have to defend."

Malyana stared at him feeling her throat constrict. Her lips thinned. Emlen didn't wait for her response, and he led her away. Harow followed after them obediently.

Meanwhile, standing at the tip of a large rock, Moulin watched with quiet eyes as the orcs advanced towards him. He had broken their tradition, and he must pay. The young man drew his brows together and took a step back. He began to retreat slowly and calmly. The number of orcs that were targeting him greatly intimidated him.

Once he was already a few meters back, a hand grasped his shoulder. It was a comforting squeeze that poured relief and calms into Moulin's heart. Lifting his gaze, Moulin met Hadrian's eyes. Golden and magnetic. The man gently pulled him back as he stepped forward. Now, he was the one overlooking the sea of vengeful orcs.

"Stay at a safe distance." The Lord spoke lowly. His eyes slightly narrowed.

Although confused, Moulin did as he was told. His eyes protectively watched his lover.

Hadrian wrapped his fingers around the hilt of the sword within his hand. Amidst the wrathful growls and roars brimming within the air, he remained calm and quiet.

Suddenly, he raised the sword to the air. The blade gleamed sharply. The air shifted. Moulin suddenly felt a hair-raising feeling caressing his skin. The mana within the air had gone erratic like lightning within violent storms.

A few orcs paused, seeming to sense the disturbance. Their eyes flashed, and they charged like a herd of frightened cattle.

Out of the blue, a blast of golden light appeared where the Hercullian Lord stood. An explosion of vicious energy bursted from the sword within the man's hand. The aggressive mana seemed to have a mind of its own, dividing itself, splitting the air in powerful surges. Golden lightning aimed towards each of the advancing orcs and struck them on where they stood.

Their bodies shook violently, fur devoured by the heat. They let out agonized screams as the mana tore them from within their bodies. They felt as if their souls were being shredded and scorched over and over.

The pained screams and cries filled the air, entering Moulin's ears. The youth's eyes were wide, witnessing the brutality and the man who was the cause of it. He watched Hadrian's back as if it was an impenetrable wall, towering over him, enveloping him until Moulin could see nothing else but him. There was not even a flinch as the man absorbed the tormented roars and bellows beneath him.

Watching it felt... terrifying.

A few seconds later, the light dispersed and faded. Hadrian lowered his sword indifferently. The tip of the blade pierced the ground, and he watched as the orcs lifelessly fell one after the other like dying animals.

The maeruthans and the men witnessing it felt their souls tremble. They could still feel the ferocious energy lingering in the air. They were afraid to move, helplessly keeping their backs against the walls.

Malyana pulled herself away from the walls gazing with wide eyes at the field of unconscious orcs. Their skin wasn't scorched; instead, only portions of their hair were burnt. It was as if they were ruthlessly mangled on the inside. The bodies spasmed, and cracks of electricity were left to surround them. They weren't dead, but they wished they were.

Malyana couldn't believe such power could even exist. She swallowed, feeling chills climb up her spine. Her eyes slowly shifted to the remorseless golden-haired man. Who was he?

Moulin hurried to Hadrian's side, and their bond lured them closer to each other. Moulin furrowed his brows as he grabbed Hadrian's arm, swiftly assessing the man's inner state. Moulin squinted his eyes. "You've expended enough. This was your idea of making my plan work? "

Hadrian raised his brows. "It failed. Thus, I decided to deal with the troublesome aftermath. "

Moulin narrowed his eyes. This man still has the energy to talk back to him?

Before Moulin could drag Hadrian back, the man took his arm and turned his gaze. "It is almost finished."

"..." Moulin followed his gaze silently. Yes, the match hasn't ended.

Moulin's heart pounded within his chest as he watched the battle of the two beasts.

Accrius had suffered multiple injuries. On his limbs, patches of flesh oozed blood as they were exposed to the air. Despite this, he continued to attack, bringing his claws to slash and opening his jaws, letting his fangs cut deep into his opponent's flesh. He used his wings to push his weight forward, slamming his body against the enormous beast.

The Dark Lion wasn't doing much better than the white Lion. Although his wounds kept regenerating, the burnt flesh he had acquired on his confrontation with Moulin bled endlessly. His energy was depleting, and he grew more infuriated the longer he fought with Accrius.

Having enough of the white beast's persistent attacks, the Dark Lion took the chance of Accrius's advance, steeled his limbs, and at the proper distance, he opened his jaws. A burst of flames escaped his jaws.

BOOM!

Caught off guard, Accrius was too late to avoid the fire entirely. The blaze caught his wings, devouring his feathers and burning his flesh underneath. Enveloped within the scorching fire, he lets out an agonized roar, and his body slammed the ground.

The Dark Lion ceased his flames, and a heavy silence shrouded the entire hall. His ruthless eyes narrowed at the fallen creature, and ridicule filled his chest. Arrogant fool, does he really think he could defeat me? Where has his confidence gone? He huffed mockingly. Slowly, he neared the injured creature.

'You will never defeat me.' The orcan Lord spoke through the link between Accrius and him. His mocking tone drilled into the younger man's humiliated heart.

...

Accrius moaned at the excruciating pain. His wings were burnt, and their bones were bent and broken. He's lost the ability to fly. Hope began to diminish.

"...?" The Dark Lion raised his head and turned. The sudden silence caught his attention. He ranked his gaze away from Accrius and surveyed the area.

"!!!"

His people were lying on the ground lifelessly. Not a single one of them had regained consciousness. How? When did this happen?

Suddenly, he recalled the abrupt change of the mana that had occurred moments ago. He was too distracted by this weak fool that he disregarded it. Smoldered with resentment, he cursed his weak, incompetent men. He should've gotten rid of them if they couldn't even get rid of these annoying pests!

Rage pulsed through his veins, and he began to stalk towards the group of people. His eyes found a particular pair that had irritated him the most. The beast growled menacingly. He licked his fangs. Good. He shall start with them.

...

'Crumble

...

A pained noise slipped out of his throat. Tortured limbs forced themselves to strengthen and rise.

The Orcan Lord's ears picked up the noise behind him, and he paused. His head turned slightly, blood-red eyes narrowing...

Behind him, Accrius staggered upright, struggling to balance himself. His broken wings dragged him down, but he persisted. Crimson pooled beneath him, dripping from his blood-soaked fur and gaping flesh. Multiple deep gashes marred his neck—golden mane stained with red. His sorry state was pitiful.

However, the fire within his eyes didn't diminish even a bit, burning furiously.

'I am your opponent.' He declared.

The sight of his enemy roused his fury.

'I will defeat you.'