Chapter 1326 Michael vs Wulfric I

Chapter 1326 Michael vs Wulfric I

As Wulfric slowly approached Elidyr, the tension in the air was palpable. Michael stepped aside, giving space for the profound moment between the brothers. Wulfric inhaled deeply, then extended his hand to rest it on Elidyr's forehead. At the touch, Elidyr tensed momentarily before forcing himself to relax. A warmth spread from Wulfric's hand, quickly morphing into a sharp sting that ravaged Elidyr's senses like a swarm inside his head.

"Argh," Elidyr groaned, pain contorting his features as sweat beaded on his brow.

The onlookers, including Michael, watched as Elidyr struggled, his body buckling until he dropped to his knees. His mind was a whirlwind of reawakening memories, cascading through him with unstoppable force. Childhood images, the horrifying sight of his parents' charred remains, and the catastrophic destruction unleashed by the Celestial Cannon flashed before him. Tears streamed down his face as he recalled the heroic sacrifice of Edwina Wraith, who had thrown herself in front of the cannon's deadly beam to save him.

But this flood of memories wasn't purely tormenting. It also rekindled his deep-rooted mastery over runes, instantly elevating his skills. The buried knowledge of rune craft that had shaped him into the architect of the ritual imprisoning the Dark Lord, and the creator of the Celestial Cannon resurfaced powerfully, transforming him into a Six-Star Runemaster.

Every bit of suppressed knowledge about runes was now unleashed, radically enhancing Elidyr's capabilities and restoring him to his full potential. Others might not have caught on, but Michael did. He sensed the surge in energy radiating from Elidyr. It reminded him of the time he enhanced Raylene into a five-star cook. However, the moment wasn't one of celebration for Michael; these were the memories that had once driven Elidyr to the brink of suicide. Understanding the potential turmoil they could bring once more, he knew that only time would reveal the impact of these newly resurfaced memories on Elidyr.

As Wulfric stepped back, giving Elidyr the space he needed, the room fell into a tense silence. Elidyr's body visibly shivered under the weight of the unlocked memories, each one surfacing with an intensity that seemed to rock him physically and emotionally. Michael stood close by, his presence both a warning and a safeguard, ready to intervene if Elidyr showed any sign of collapsing under his burden or worse, attempting to end his suffering permanently.

Michael watched closely, his experience telling him that while these memories were undoubtedly a heavy curse, Elidyr might now have the strength to withstand them. The years he had spent in the Dark Army and the resilience he had built since being rescued suggested that Elidyr could now confront his past without succumbing to despair. Michael remained alert but hopeful, believing in Elidyr's newfound fortitude to face whatever demons his past had unleashed.

Finally, Elidyr slowly rose to his feet as his movements were shaky and uncertain. The others watched him with a mix of concern and curiosity, unsure of what the resurgence of his memories might provoke. He began to mumble and sorted through the onslaught of recollections that bombarded him.

"I remember...the flames..." Elidyr murmured, his voice gaining a haunted edge.

"My parents, begging me to listen, their faces twisted in agony as they tried to pull me back from the path I was so determined to follow." His fists clenched at his sides, knuckles whitening with the strain of his grip.

"The workshop...I can see it all now, the runes I etched, believing I was saving the world..." His voice broke as he continued.

"And Edwina...her bravery, her sacrifice. She stood before the Celestial Cannon's beam for me. She saved me, and I...I couldn't save her." Tears streamed down his face, unheeded in the moment of his torment. "I cursed them, my own parents, called them traitors for worshipping the Dark Lord. They died because of me, because of my arrogance, my blindness," His words became a torrent, each memory unleashing more pain and regret. "Skyhall used me, twisted my work for their war, for their cleansings. They killed in my name, and I...I was part of it."

But before Wulfric could answer, Michael felt a slight vibration within his ear as he accepted the communication from Nithroel.

"What is taking you so long? Don't drag this out. Every second you waste, the Skyhall gets more prepared to face us. We need that portal gateway now," Nithroel urged Michael sharply.

Hearing Nithroel's voice, which showed her patience was wearing thin, Elidyr knew the Dark Lord would forcefully remove anyone in his path.

"Step aside, Wulfric. You don't want this fight," Elidyr tried to convince his brother to stand down, despite still reeling from his own resurfaced memories.

"Last chance, Headmaster. I'm not known for my patience. Stand down, or I will make you," Michael said as he stepped back, prompting the graduates and the professors—except for Kayla and Lane—to step back as well.

"Ghost... don't do this," Professor Kayla said, turning her pleading gaze toward Michael. She knew that not even their combined might could stop the Dark Lord.

"I won't kill him," Michael reassured Elidyr with a nod.

"But I can't promise it won't hurt," he added, shifting his gaze to Wulfric. At that moment, Lane realized a confrontation was inevitable.

Black lightning bolts began crackling around Michael's wrists, and the room started to darken. Seeing the battle-ready Dark Lord, Wulfric took a deep breath in preparation to defend himself.

"We are with you, Headmaster," Elliot declared, stepping forward as the others followed suit. Their loyalty to their headmaster far outweighed their fear of the Dark Lord.

"This is going to hurt," Lane muttered under his breath, resigning himself as he too stepped toward Wulfric. At that moment, all the graduates and professors positioned themselves behind Wulfric to face the Dark Lord.

Wasting no time, Deacon Saunders dashed at Michael with his hammer raised high. The hammer glowed ominously, runes etched into its surface, illuminating it with an arcane light. Michael snickered at the approaching figure, his expression one of mild amusement rather than concern. With a simple, dismissive gesture of his hand, he unleashed a powerful gust of wind. The force caught Deacon squarely, sending him hurtling through the air like a rag doll. He crashed against the wall with a resounding crack, the impact leaving spiderweb fractures across the stone.

"Come on then, step up. But you might want to keep those healing potions handy. You're going to need them," Michael taunted the remaining onlookers.