Chapter 525: Hammer and Anvil

“While you were gone, a development arose,” the Alchemist explained to Argrave as he stared up at King Norman, watching for any movement. “Your enemy took some inspiration from you. They’ve created a network of spirits around the exit of Sandelabara. We won’t be able to teleport outside without first dismantling it... or more simply moving past it.”

“I made that defensive network—not Argrave,” Onychinusa spoke up, annoyed. “But he’s right. If we teleport beyond Sandelabara, we’ll be whisked away to precisely where they want us to be. I have no doubt an ambush is in wait.”

“We can maneuver within the bounds of this plane,” Castro interjected. “I believe that gives us ample opportunity to escape.”

“All of you should take Sophia, get to a safe location. But I’m not leaving until this man is dead in the ground. Orion—you’ll stay here with me, we’ll fight together. Anneliese—you have to take Sophia. Alchemist—give Orion a divine weapon, and then protect Sophia like your life depends on it.”

The Alchemist reached into himself, producing a club of bone shaped like a crescent moon. He tossed it at Orion.

“There would be no greater honor than to fight at your side, Your Majesty.” Orion said smoothly as he caught the divine weapon, holding it in hand.

Anneliese called out, “Argrave, this is—"

King Norman’s patience grew thin. He dropped off the side of the castle, braced his feet against the wall, and then leapt for them with terrifying speed. But long before Norman came, Argrave had already teleported away to stand by Sophia incased in the ward.

“I’m back, Sophia. A few problems have come up. I’m going to need to give you to someone else. I trust these people with my life—they’ll keep you safe.”

Castro and Onychinusa cast powerful magic, lighting and fire respectively, yet both forces vanished when they came in contact with the white figures protecting Norman. Argrave shook his head upon seeing that. It would seem the king had inherited the magic immunity bestowed by the Heralds.

“My daddy’s trying to stop you,” Sophia stated matter-of-factly, voice trembling. She hadn’t taken off the blindfold, just as Argrave instructed.

As Argrave watched, Orion rushed at King Norman. He tried to tackle the man, and looked stunned when Norman resisted heartily with a smile on the face. He saw Norman speak when Orion stepped away. He was somewhat grateful Norman like to play with his food, if only because it gave Argrave time.Ñøv€l-B1n was the first platform to present this chapter.

Argrave clenched his fist and said, “...yes, that’s right. But you don’t need to be worried about that anymore.”

Sophia fumbled out blindly and grabbed his leg. “I don’t want you to die, Argwave.”

“Hey...” Argrave patted her head. “I’ll be fine. I’m most worried about you. I can do anything, but you’re just a little girl. I’ll be giving you to my wife—she’ll take great care of you until I get back.”

“Nobody thinks they’ll die,” Sophia insisted, removing the blindfold as she teared up. “But they always do. Even Gwiffin. Mister Argwave... run away. I’ll stop him.”

“Sorry to break it to you, kid, but your dad isn’t so tough.” Argrave lifted up Sophia, dispelling the ward. “I could take care of him by myself. Anne,” he called out. “Keep her safe. I’ll come find you—don’t come find me.”

Anneliese walked up to Argrave and received Sophia carefully. He looked into her amber eyes—there was concern, yes, but resolve and trust as strong as he’d ever seen. King Norman was blissfully unaware of what would happen next, evidently. Anneliese, Melanie, Castro, Onychinusa, and the Alchemist teleported away using [Worldstrider], heading into Sandelabara for safety.

“Alright, Orion. It’s you and me.” Argrave studied the floating white figures around Norman. He was relieved to see they faded by the second—they weren’t properly tethered to Norman. The first bit would be an endurance game until magic could again harm him. But past experience told him one thing—they weren’t immune to illusion magic. That silver-tongued priestess hadn’t seen through his invisibility.

As Norman had been talking, Argrave watched the white figures protecting him finally dissipated to nothing. Argrave sent out a blood echo, its palm outstretched, and cast [Burst] moments before teleporting to the spot. Norman wasn’t used to such ambushes from Argrave, and so did not defend as ably as he should have. A blood-infused [Burst] wracked Good King Norman right in the face, and he flew backwards.

When the aftermath of the blast faded, Argrave saw the king lying there. He was every bit as damaged as Argrave recalled him being from the first attack of that kind. Argrave clenched the club tightly in hand, walking close with the resolve to do as he’d done once before. He would bludgeon Good King Norman to death himself. Sophia was owed that much, especially after hearing that sickening plan the king had in mind for her.

“A splendid display, King Argrave.”

Argrave whipped his head around to where the voice came from. He saw a head sticking up out of the shadows. The man had dark skin, and braided hair that flowed like inky darkness. Argrave placed a name at once—Traugott. Argrave didn’t hesitate to cast the lightning-fast [Arc Whips]. A sound like a buzzsaw filled the courtyard as arcs of electricity buffeted the spot Traugott was, but when the spell faded, Argrave saw no corpse.

“You’re a little more like Orion that I thought. He’d also prefer to hit me than first talk to me.”

Argrave turned his head again. Traugott crouched beside Good King Norman, who was barely moving with most of his face gone.

“I’ve heard you’re generous, Argrave. Could I please have this man Norman, and his daughter Sophia?” Traugott tilted his head. “These people interest me a great deal, you understand. I’d like to research them.”

“Who said I was generous? Norman’s a dead man. Sophia’s under my protection.” Argrave stepped forward steadily. “Back away.”

“I’m sorry, but I’d like him alive,” Traugott shook his head. “And I need Sophia. She’s even more paramount for me. So... I’m afraid we’ll have to come to arms. I consider myself a pacifist, but sometimes people just won’t give me what I want without violence. It’s rather saddening. I hoped we could talk, as fellow scholars.”

Argrave watched as Traugott’s shadow danced around him, growing larger. Recognizing what he intended, Argrave sent out his blood echo and teleported forth. Traugott was able to move away deeper into the Shadowlands and avoid his grasp, but then Argrave hadn’t intended to target Traugott to begin with. He cast [Burst] once again into Good King Norman’s face.

“No!” Traugott shouted. “Such a waste wi—"

Argrave saw an explosion of gore just as the two faded into the Shadowlands. Argrave rose to his feet, bitter triumph in his heart. Good King Norman the Dead lived up to his title, once again. Argrave was certain he saw his head cave in, his soft brain exposed to the full brunt of a blood-infused [Burst]. Norman was dead, despite Traugott’s efforts to preserve his life.

Argrave slammed the club he still held into the now-empty ground, muttering, “How’s that, you twat?”

“Your Majesty...” Orion said, staring at Argrave with some degree of awe writ on his face. “He did have a point.”

“And what point was that?” Argrave asked incredulously.

“That was a splendid display. You fought well enough that the pathetic god of war Sataistador must be trembling in his boots.” He pounded his chest. “You saved my worthless life, Your Majesty.”

“You’re not worthless. And you’ve saved mine enough,” Argrave said dismissively. “Let’s save the talk. Norman’s dead. Not even he can survive with soup for brains, I think. But Traugott and Dario’s golems both are going to be coming after Sophia, and if I were to guess... Traugott’s going to unleash Shadowlanders upon Sandelabara. He’ll try and seize Sophia in the chaos.” Argrave held out the club to Orion.

Orion took the club from Argrave. “Shadowlanders... meaning more of that thing we faced at Dirracha, Your Majesty?”

Argrave nodded. “We have the small fortune of our primary objective being escape. But make no mistake—we’re on an anvil, with a hammer crashing down from above.”