Chapter 479 Unseen Trial



With his hand against the colossal, far-spanning dome that served as the protecting exterior for the elven clan within, the Dragonheart expanded his own mana within it, feeling the breathless wind inhabiting the interior.

Through the expansion of the young man's bountiful mana, he could sense everything within the closed-off village; it was occupied, but not just by the cold-hearted hunters. The gentle breaths of wind he commanded as an extension of his own senses brushed against elven children that played within the walls, watched by their mothers; some were trained by their fathers, speaking in familiar tongue.

"I..."

Witnessing the familiarity of it all, Emilio's eyes inadvertently opened as he felt his connection break with the magecraft he had been carefully conjuring.

"Everything alright?" Sirius asked.

"Yeah, you look pale, like you've seen a ghost or somethin'. Ya good?" Everett concernedly asked, stepping closer.

Emilio shook his head to dissuade any notion of there being something wrong, refocusing himself as he pressed his hand firmly against the wall, "I'm fine, just give me a minute."

All doubts were placed to the back of his mind. The journey he had taken thus far in this renewed life was brought to the forefront as a reminder; the friends he had made, the experiences he had lived through; the death he had crawled out of.

He didn't tell the two friends beside him what it was exactly that he was doing, though Sirius began to put it together as he felt a change in the wind.

A slow breath passed through the lips of the young man as he finally commanded the entirety of the stagnant air caught within the interior of the colossal dome; his body strained, constricting his muscles as his complexion reddened.

"Woah, what's–" Everett noticed the change in Emilio, worried.

Sirius stopped the perplexed shielder from risking breaking the concentration of the Dragonheart, putting a hand on Everett's shoulder.

It was a replication of one of his own personally created spells, only turned up to a magnitude far beyond the norm—both in reach and longevity.

There was no sound besides the light scraping of steps behind the thickness of the wooden dome; desperate, panicked, and perhaps ignorant to what was going on.

The strain that gripped Emilio wasn't solely a physical toll; he disconnected his thoughts, trying his best not to think nor pay any mind to the dozens, if not hundreds of occupants he sensed within the premises.

A constant struggle was fought on both ends of his being; one telling him—urging him—to stop, and the other continuously assuring him that what he was doing was the right call.

Every piece of oxygen was completely removed from within the dome. It couldn't be perceived as a battle; only a massacre–an extermination.

"...Haaah."

Finally, he pulled his hand away, collapsing to a knee as he breathed out heavily, coated in sweat. The hand used to command the air past the barrier shook like a flower breathed on by a powerful gust.

"Hey! Ya alright?!" Everett worriedly asked, kneeling beside the Dragonheart as he placed his hand on the young man's shoulder.

A small trail of blood trickled from Emilio's nose as he tiredly wiped it away, being helped up to his feet by both of the companions by his side, "...Yeah, I'm good, it's just...I've never used that spell to that scale before. Kicks a lot more than I thought..."

Everett seemed curious, lending his shoulder to Emilio as he looked against the now quiet dome in front of the group, "So...What did ya do, exactly? It didn't sound like anything, ya know, went 'boom'."

Everett looked at him for a sparse second, reading the stoic, yet pained expression of the Dragonheart before quietly accepting the answer given, "...Alright."

By the masterful architecture of stone that made up the smooth, oval homes of the harken, along with organized farms and an arsenal of forges spread around the village, the advancement of the elven clan was nothing short of superb.

Yet, it was all brought down to nothing now.

"Uegh...Man, I can't–I'm going to wait outside, al-alright?" Everett stammered out, backing away as the sight of the bodies deterred him from delving in any deeper.

"Sure," Emilio said with a nod.

After the shielder stepped out, Emilio followed Sirius deeper into the dome village. Though Emilio had his own struggles with the presence of the dead bodies, the way Sirius held himself, keeping his hands casually in his pockets with a subtle smile held, it was as if the man was unmoved by it all.

"I was thinking," Sirius began to say.

"About?"

"This might be our first trial," Sirius observed, setting his gaze onto the Dragonheart.

Emilio came to a brief stop, looking at the man with a raised eyebrow, "What do you mean?"

"This whole island is meant to serve as a proving grounds for "World Sages", right? To me, it seems like the Harken were meant to serve as the enforcers of that," Sirius explained, "Maybe it's all just a reach, though."

Emilio thought about it for a moment, distracted by the bodies laid on the ground, "You could be right. This island is a lot more confusing than I'd like to admit."

"Hold on."

–It was abrupt, but the demeanor of the Stormheart changed like the flip of a lever, going from carefree to tense as his hands slid out of his pockets. Sirius' eyes were dead set on something down the main road of the now lifeless village.

Emilio looked in the same direction, focusing as before something met his vision, a sound scraped against his ears; it was as if steel was being drug against stone, a bone-aching grinding.

"Seems like you didn't get all of them," Sirius quietly remarked as electricity coiled around his hand in preparation.

Emilio stepped past his companion, responding calmly, "I'll handle this."

From the lifeless village, a sole figure walked out, descending from the steps of the centermost structure.

The hair belonging to the individual seemed as though it glistened, shining like an opalescent gemstone through a platinum kaleidoscope. It was long and graceful, cascading down the masculine figure's shoulders like silver curtains of luxury.

"—" Emilio drew his own sword, awaiting the sole survivor of the Harken.

The wordless elf's black irises locked onto the Dragonheart like a hawk, filled with contempt shown clear on the anguished curl of his lips.

It seemed as though the figure was of high status within the exterminated clan; he wore a black-and-gold woven suit of fine fabric, with a jeweled crown worn as a band around his head.

"Looks like he's the "alpha" of the Harken. I'm sure I don't have to tell you this, but this guy isn't some pushover. He's just oozing strength from every pore," Sirius warned, keeping his distance as he let his companion handle it to his own desire.