Book 4: Chapter 85: Ending A Dynasty

Book 4: Chapter 85: Ending A Dynasty

Jaihar gazed up into the sky, squinting at the sunlight. If he didn’t know better, he would’ve thought the lizard familiar was purposefully positioning himself in front of the sun. However, he knew such a level of intellect and strategic thinking was impossible for the familiar of a measly True Mage.

But did he really?

He shaded his eyes with his left hand, trying to make out the silhouette of the giant, flying reptile. His right, he raised above his head, palm out. He was prepared to lose a flurry of spells at the drop of a hat. However, the thing seemed content to circle high above, far out of reach.

Jaihar’s eyes were inadvertently drawn to the back of his palm, aiming upward. The hand he extended to the sky was trembling, and not just a little bit. It was shaking like the hand of an old drunk who had not gotten his daily dose. He grimaced, remembering the reason for his current state.

That roar—that primal, terrifying roar.

The moment the beast had growled at him, he almost lost control of his bladder. His knees had felt like pudding, and his mouth had gone dry. It had been the single most terrifying experience of his entire life. If he was being honest, the mere fact that he had managed to stay upright was a miracle in and of itself.

He had been so certain that this was the right course of action—that he could solve his problems with this challenge. Heck, he had been so certain that he had bet his entire fortune, everything. All he had left of his family’s vast fortunes was now in the possession of those snakes of the Varun family—all for the promise of vengeance.

They promised that the boy would agree to his challenge in order to save that little girl. Jaihar had believed them, desperate for a way out of his predicament, and, to his utter relief, they had been right.

He had actually agreed, all but throwing his life away.

The stupid little True Mage had actually agreed to fight him one-on-one. Him—a Grand Mage with decades of experience fighting in the Rings. Oh, how elated he had been. His entire world seemed to light up with endless possibilities, and for the first time in a long while, he had dared to dream of the future. Of all the things he would accomplish once the specter of death no longer hung over him.

However, his pleasant dream was shattered the moment his opponent stepped into the arena. With his pale, bloodless face and sunken cheeks, the boy looked about ready to collapse. Yet death followed on his heels. With razor-sharp teeth the length of a hand, the beast had eyed him with its canny, predatory gaze. For a moment, Jaihar thought the creature was taking his measure. Its eyes slid over his frame as if sizing him up.

It was then that Jaihar realized the easy victory he had imagined was now out of reach.

The shrieks of the crowd brought him out of his musings and Jaihar focused on his opponent again and saw that it had started to dive. Its speed was breathtaking, and a moment later, it was already in front of him. However, he was ready.

With a loud bellow, Jaihar unleashed a torrent of flames. With his left hand, he cast [Inferno], while his right conjured one [Fireball] after another. Despite the weakness in his knees, he remained confident of winning. No matter how intimidating it appeared, there was no way a creature summoned by a True Mage could withstand a barrage like that.

Straining his Core to the limits, he let it all out, screaming all the while. In his mind, he could already see that wailing beast crumbling to the ground; its rider burned alongside it. The image brought a smirk to his lips.

He focused his blurry eyes on the figure sitting on the Dragon’s back, glaring with as much venom as he could. “This is all your fault. Why the fuck did you have to come along and ruin everything?”

The boy looked back at him, his complexion already much improved from earlier. Yet, his eyes were cold, and so was his voice. “Are you done?” he asked.

“Bastard! What do you—” Jaihar attempted to speak, but the flood of blood in his throat muffled his voice, turning his next words into a gurgle.

The boy atop the Dragon sighed. Next, he did something Jaihar didn’t expect. He slid off his mount and tapped its side. “This will do for now. Thank you.”

In the next moment, the body of the Dragon liquefied. A part of it, the boy absorbed. Most of it, though, uselessly splashed on the ground, bathing the arena in a crimson hue. For a while, Jaihar saw nothing but red. Yet, his eyes never left the figure of the boy standing over him. His complexion was already back to its normal color, and his weakened limbs seemed to have regained their strength.

Then, his cold eyes turned to face him.

***

Zeke rotated his shoulders and flexed his muscles. The satisfying pops and cracks of his joints were a welcome sound after this bout of weakness.

Next, he peered at the figure on the ground. The once cocky Grand Mage had been reduced to a terrible state. His arms and legs were clearly broken, jutting out at odd angles. However, those injuries paled in comparison to the state of his chest. The Dragon’s claw had struck true, caving it in.

Honestly, he was surprised Jaihar was still alive. Yet, he held no pity for the man. Just the opposite, in fact. When Zeke looked at him, all he felt was the pain of a missing arm—burned to the shoulder. He saw Vulcanos collapse, starved and exhausted. Gravitas followed. He saw his own figure dragging them through the desert. He saw the mutilated body of their guide. Ripper’s lifeless eyes after they had crippled her limbs...

And yet, Jaihar had the gall to claim it was his fault things had come to this?

Zeke kneeled down, meeting the dying man’s eyes. “Do you want to know a secret?” he whispered. Before Jaihar could respond, Zeke came closer, bringing his mouth next to the prone man’s ear. “When a Mage dies, their Soul leaves their body and returns to the Mana. I don’t know where they go, but I like to think that there is a place where all Souls gather after death—a place where the dead can meet again.”

His voice was barely above a whisper. Yet, Zeke knew that Jaihar was listening. “In that place, your father, brother, and uncle are already waiting for you.” Then his voice turned cold. “However, you are not going to that place. Oh, no. I’ll not let you off that easily. The moment you croak, I am going to eat your Soul, erasing you completely.”

With those words, Zeke stood again, gazing down at the helpless man beneath his feet. Jaihar had wide eyes as the horror of his current situation sank in. A small kindling of flames appeared on his hand, yet Zeke mercilessly stepped on it, quashing even this last act of rebellion.

Aside from this, he did nothing, watching as the man slowly succumbed to his injuries. And then, when Jaihar’s eyes finally turned glassy and his heart beat a final time, Zeke devoured his Soul.