Book 8: Chapter 77: Interva Twilight |
“Are you going back to save them?” A voice like a lark came from behind Qin Lun.
The young man turned his head in surprise and discovered that Lace, carrying her large bow, had actually followed him out at some unknown time. Now, she was staring at him with her big, dark eyes.
“You saw what happened earlier!” A cold glint flashed in Qin Lun’s eyes as he asked expressionlessly.
“Saw what?” Lace tilted her head, shaking it blankly. “I came out of the passageway and saw you standing here dazed. You ran so fast earlier, didn’t even say a word, you nearly got me smashed by a giant rock!”
“Why didn’t you stay with them?” Qin Lun fell silent for a long moment before finally asking.
“They’re not Apostles. Why would I stay with them?” The girl puffed out her cheeks, looking utterly surprised. She stretched out her small hand to feel Qin Lun’s forehead. “Are you crazy or something?!”
Slap! Qin Lun expressionlessly slapped away her slightly chubby, childlike hand and turned to walk in a certain direction. He said lightly, “Since you’re out, get out of the tower quickly. It’s dangerous here!”
“Hey, what about you?” Lace stood on tiptoe, waving at Qin Lun’s back.
“I still have things to do!” Qin Lun replied coldly.
Qin Lun’s footsteps paused. He turned his head, looking at the Elf girl with a strange expression, then shook his head coldly. “Do as you please. Just don’t get in my way.”
Lace nodded repeatedly with a wide grin. As Qin Lun turned away, a trace of mischievous light flickered in her innocent, big eyes. “Hehe, the Legendary Twin Pistols—Burial of Light and Darkness… As expected, those chosen by Sister Kelly are so interesting! He actually changed expression!”
“If I’d told the truth just now, would he have killed me? Oh dear, I’m so scared!” Lace sniffled, patting her flat chest with a worried expression.
……
“Iristin, don’t push yourself! Get behind and support us with your Divine Magic!” Milleras shouted towards the bear-formed Elven Druid.
The giant bear, sent flying again and again by the Lich, was now covered in wounds. Its once glossy, bright fur was matted with countless blood clots, looking utterly pathetic. Upon hearing Milleras’s shout, the giant bear trembled slightly, hesitated, and turned its head. Tears brimmed in its eyes, large as bells.
“Go. That selfish jerk isn’t worth shedding tears like this for.” Idria, her sweat-drenched fiery red bangs plastered to her forehead, spoke calmly to Iristin. “He thought we were doomed. But I believe this is just a test from Lady Loviatar to forge our resolve. We will win. Absolutely!”
Idria’s confidence wasn’t unfounded. After several rounds, everyone realized the Lich had never risen from its stone sarcophagus. Clearly, the sarcophagus was not only its resting place but seemed to impose restrictions on it.
Though it was unknown why the Lich refrained from using magic, relying solely on astonishing defense to passively endure their attacks, this couldn’t last forever. Sooner or later, Milleras would shoot it to death. Each arrow from the Sun Elf Prince chipped away frozen shards from that seemingly indestructible, frost-covered body.
After several failed lunging attacks, Iristin finally snapped out of her sorrow. Dragging her injured body to the rear, she began casting Divine spells on the Lich.
“Nature’s Healing!” Suppressing a fierce headache, Iristin unleashed one of her Divine Arts.
A wisp of sacred light manifested from nothingness and descended upon the Lich. This spell, which usually bestowed a powerful surge of life force upon living creatures, now hit the undead Lich like water dripped into a boiling oil vat. White vapor rose from the frost-encrusted frame, prompting the silent Lich until now to emit a low, angry snarl from its open mouth.
In truth, Nature’s Healing was only a relatively low-tier spell among a Druid’s healing arts. There were many more powerful restorative Divine Magics, such as “Life’s Radiance,” which Iristin had once used on Qin Lun.
Unfortunately, Iristin’s mental world was still reeling from the backlash of the “Pale Forest.” She could barely muster a handful of Divine spells. This was already her utmost effort.
“That’s it!” Milleras’s eyes lit up. After a brief hesitation, he snapped the chain of a necklace he wore and tossed it to the Elven Druid. “Iristin, drink this! Keep casting those Divine Nature Heals!”
“What’s inside?” Iristin looked down at the necklace in her hand. A complicated silver chain held a small, diamond-shaped crystalline pendant. The pendant was transparent, topped by a tiny silver screw-cap, filled with liquid shimmering with dreamlike colors.
“The Healing Water from the Sun Well. Though useless against spellbacklash, it replenishes magical energy and temporarily expands spell slots, allowing you to cast more Nature’s Heals,” Milleras explained concisely.
“Roooar…!” Constantly battered by Milleras and Iristin, the Lich finally snapped into fury. Its frost-gloved hand suddenly clenched with immense strength, actually snapping off a palm-sized chunk from the thick stone slab it rested on. The sight drained the color from everyone’s faces.
This wasn’t ordinary rock. Tempered over millennia, these stone slabs were harder than steel. Even a strike from Idria’s double-bladed battleaxe only chipped them. If that grip had landed on them, bones would shatter without question.
But the Lich seemed oblivious to its own terrifying gesture. It merely lifted its hand and casually threw the stone shard.
Thoom! The stone whistled through the air, creating a sonic boom as it hurtled towards Milleras, resembling a boulder launched from a catapult.
“Look out!” Nearby, Lorlin charged forward instantly, hoisting his large axe flat to shield the Sun Elf Prince.
CRACK! A deafening crash sounded as stone met axehead. The Dwarf was instantly flung backwards, bowling Milleras over in a heap.
“Lorlin, how bad is it?” Elr… or rather, the girl who should now be called Emily, thrown off her shyness, worriedly helped the young Dwarf to his feet.
“Relax, won’t die yet!” Lorlin stared pale-faced at the axe blade, now deeply dented. Sweat poured uncontrollably down his forehead. He glanced down at his left arm hanging limply by his side. Twisted and broken in multiple places, it resembled an inflated purple nunchuck.
“Here, drink this. You’ll be alright!” Emily hesitated briefly, then pulled out a small, flat flask from her bosom. Unscrewing the cap, she poured the liquid inside down the Dwarf’s throat.
“What…what is this?” A wave of warmth swept through Lorlin, banishing exhaustion. Even the excruciating pain in his broken arm lessened noticeably. He stared at Elr (Emily) in shock. “Got any more? Give some to the others…”
“There isn’t any more. This is ‘Mystra’s Grace’. Only those chosen by Mystra receive it. This single flask of ‘Grace Water’ was given to me by my mother. It was the only one she had.” Emily cut him off with a pained shake of her head before he could finish.
“Idria! Fall back and shield us!” Milleras scrambled to his feet, dust-covered but unharmed.
Seeing the state of her companions, Idria hesitated at the front line before retreating. She raised her massive double-bladed axe to stand guard beside Iristin. The situation had shifted. Rushing forward to engage the Lich in combat no longer made sense. Concentrating all efforts on protecting Iristin and Milleras was paramount; only they could wound the undead menace now.
Milleras took a deep breath and drew his bowstring taut. Only this time, no shaft of fine iron was nocked. The space between wood and string remained empty.
Thwang! As the bowstring snapped forward, a streak of lightning burst forth. The Lich offered almost no reaction before being struck squarely in an empty eye socket pulsing with spectral flame. Its frost-covered head jerked violently backward. Fingers of magical electricity danced across its skull, crackling and sizzling.
Clack-clack-clack! Perhaps this bolt had truly inflicted damage. For the first time, an expression resembling pain contorted the Lich’s features. Its half-sitting body began to thrash violently. From beneath it came an unbroken series of fracturing sounds.
The entire stone sarcophagus spider-veined with an intricate network of cracks, as if intrinsically fused to the Lich’s form.
“Increase the pressure!” Milleras’s heart lurched. He didn’t know what this transformation signified, but instinct screamed danger. Without pause, Iristin’s Divine Arts and his own magical arrows rained down on the struggling Lich.
Idria watched the Lich warily, ready to intercept any more thrown stones aimed at Milleras and the others. Even Lorlin sensed the climax of this battle. Teeth gritted against pain, he used his uninjured arm to raise his axe beside the female knight.
Emily clenched her little fists nervously, her face taut with anxiety as she watched the fight unfold. Among them all, she alone held no combat skill. Even as an excellent apprentice mage, she could manage only a handful of cantrips – Mage Hand and Grease – useless tricks incapable of harming even a hair on the Lich under these conditions.
Crack! Thump! Bang! The sarcophagus groaned under unbearable strain. Stone fragments flew outwards like bullets. Though only a few zipped towards the companions, they clanged incessantly off the shields formed by Idria’s and Lorlin’s raised axes. Thankfully, the bulk of the rubble wasn’t targeting them directly, otherwise the two frontline fighters would have been overwhelmed.
“Rroooooaaarrr!” Finally, after a triumphant roar that seemed almost joyful, the Lich wrenched itself fully upright from the stone coffin.
Once all the shattered stone settled, the Lich within was fully revealed, leaving Milleras and the others staring in stunned disbelief. Now they understood why this high-ranking undead had remained motionless for so long, and the origin of its armoring frost.
The sarcophagus and Lich were indeed one entity. Counterintuitively, an additional, indirect layer existed between them. The sarcophagus’s interior was formed from a solid block of ice crystals entombing the undead Lich waist-down.
But why just the lower half? The answer lay in the Lich’s form. Its lower body wasn’t human legs. Instead, powerful equine limbs stretched out – this Lich was a centaur! The undead centaur hadn’t lain prone before; it knelt inside the sarcophagus with its horse legs tucked beneath it.
Now, it stood. Though significant patches of frost clung stubbornly to its horse legs and knee joints, causing stiffness, it could finally move freely compared to before.
“A Centaur? In life… it was an Elven Druid!” Iristin stared at this fellow Druid, its features undeniably Elven despite deathly gray pallor, decay evident, and sharply pointed ears. Her face drained of color as she gasped.
“No wonder it never used magic… it simply couldn’t!” Idria spat bitterly.
Elven Druids commanded both Elemental Arcane Magic and Divine Nature Spells. But undead couldn’t touch Nature Magic bestowed by the Elven Gods.
As for Arcane Magic… During Uvaeren’s era, Elven magic maintained its distinct system, independent of the magical weave. One advantage was fewer restrictions, but the massive drawback was its demand for profound spiritual and magical understanding – impossible for a Liche bereft of an autonomous soul even to attempt such workings. More poignantly, it died still trapped in its Centaur Wild Shape.
“I recognize who this was!” Milleras exclaimed suddenly, a spark of realization igniting. A memory surfaced: a portrait cherished within Cormanthor’s libraries. “He was Uvaeren’s last embodiment! Interva Twilight, Grand Druid of Liserra’s Fourth Empire!”
The undead form of the Grand Druid who lived millennia ago, Interva Twilight, flared with burning spectral fire in its hollow eyesockets. With unnerving grace, the Centaur Lich shifted its hooves, muscles trembling like an actor stiffly rehearsing moves. After a few tentative steps, it surged forward, accelerating terrifyingly as it charged the group.
……
CRUNCH! Idria sailed high into the air like a discarded doll. Blood droplets sprayed like a fountain mid-descent. The ancestral double-bladed battleaxe she’d held with death-like tenacity finally slipped from her grasp. Her body thudded against the ground with painful finality.
Free moments before, this rampaging Centaur Lich had shattered their formation in mere moments. Iristin and Lorlin were already wounded. Milleras might exchange blows with the agile Lich using hit-and-run tactics, but attempting to tank its charge like Idria would shatter him instantly. With the female knight down, the group faced annihilation.
“Seems we truly perish here after all,” Milleras stated with unnerving calm. He lowered his bow, surrendering the fight against the Centaur Lich. Instead, he gazed at the Obelisk standing not far ahead, an intertwining expression of resignation and profound regret finally revealing itself.
“Regrets now? You could have escaped with him.” Idria’s trajectory had dropped her beside Milleras. Twice the fallen knight tried, failed to push herself up. Even for an acolyte of Loviatar, a faith grounded in embracing suffering, she had reached her limits.
“No. Even without the Obelisk here… I would never have abandoned any of you.” A soft, genuine smile touched Milleras’s lips as his gaze swept over Iristin limping toward them, Emily helping Lorlin limp alongside. “The Cormanthor Elven Court never realistically planned to walk the Ancient Path in a single generation. Making it this far… already exceeds any expectations set upon me.”
His eyes held each companion deep respect. “Dwarves never shirk duty. Followers of Loviatar yearn for ultimate trials. Iristin possesses unbreakable resolve… And we Sun Elves… we carry our own Code fiercely. It has been my highest honor to stand beside each one of you in battle… To have known you all.”
“Hrmph! Now no one gets to kick that jerk’s thick skull anymore,” Idria ground out, wiping a smear of crimson from her split lips. The spittle she flicked away was thick with blood.
“Firal made the rational choice,” Milleras countered gently, though his eyes flickered toward Iristin, her face shadowed with grief. He shook his head wearily. “He has burdens… his own path. Perhaps… with time… he may come this way again, leading rearguards from Anker Elf.” Weak hope flickered and died. “Let us pray… we don’t greet him then as fellow undead monsters.”
Perhaps sensing the helpless resignation emanating from the insects before him, the Centaur Lich displayed no hurry to continue its onslaught. It merely scraped a hoof impatiently against the stone floor, circling the Obelisk with a strange, disturbing grace.
Skritch… Suddenly, an almost imperceptible chittering sounded from high overhead. Dust motes trickled down from the simulated Star Void adorning the chamber’s ceiling, sprinkling the Obelisk and the Centaur alike.
“Hrooar…!” The Centaur Lich froze mid-step, emitting a sound of pure frustration twisted through death’s throat. Its flaming gaze snapped upward. It began an agitated, stilted pacing back and forth, its attention abruptly shifted from victims suddenly forgotten to the vast ceiling far above.
“What’s… what’s wrong with it?” Emily’s voice, always observant and soft, found purchase. She noticed the abrupt change in the powerful undead’s behavior instantly.
Tcckk-kkkk-krrrack! Even without Emily’s alert, the rapidly increasing network of fractures spreading like jagged black lightning across the dome’s surface couldn’t be ignored. The ominous, escalating creaking tore the attention of every single survivor.
“Curses!! We ALL forgot…” Milleras stared numbly upwards, voice thick with sudden, furious realization, “…the ceiling of this necropolis hall… it’s Obsidian!” He slammed a frustrated fist into his palm, the sound echoing their impending doom.
Milleras’s initial reason for staying centered unambiguously on the Uvellen Obelisk. But once retreat became the only path to survival, he had contemplated flight… back when the Lich was stunned inside its tomb. But the entrance passage had been sealed beyond repair by tons of shattered rock, dead ending that possibility.
He’d tested the surrounding walls and the barrier itself. Fine Iron Long Arrows barely scratched an indentation; escape would take days, weeks even… digging tools they lacked. Hope of flight had truly perished then.
None considered the ceiling. Natural bedrock might endure. But obsidian? Highly magically conductive stone was brittle. Significant impact shatters it. Milleras’s bow, Idria’s axe… they could crack it. And though the roof loomed tens of meters up… earlier, Iristin’s strength permitted Wild Shaping into massive eagles – powerful enough to lift either Idria or Lorlin high enough to reach and strike the vaulting ceiling…
“…Firal!” Iristin whispered, pulled suddenly from despair. Light surged back into her eyes, hope resurrecting violently. Her face glowed with fierce, unexpected belief. “It IS Firal! He… he has come back!”
“That wretch could abandon even YOU without a backward glance. Why would HE return now?” Idria countered coldly, even as she pushed herself onto trembling elbows, squinting upward through the disturbed dust settling from above. “But… if it truly collapses now… it brings chaos. Perhaps…perhaps Milleras and Emily could slip out… somehow…” She didn’t mention herself, Iristin, or Lorlin. They simply had nothing left; dragging them would doom everyone.
Hearing Idria’s assessment of Qin Lun’s character, Iristin flinched visibly, eyes dimming again she looked pleadingly toward Milleras, seeking objection. Milleras paused only a heartbeat then shook his head sorrowfully. Unaware Qin Lun possessed an Apostle’s identity, he didn’t view his flight as cowardice but as duty chosen above personal peril…similar to choices he himself might make.
“Don’t hold it against Firal,” His words were quiet, calming, and aimed as much as consolation as justification for Iristin. “If our path wasn’t decisively blocked… if vital Sun Elf Ancient Inheritance wasn’t at stake here… I too…might have forsaken personal honor… to ensure my Embassy’s crucial mission continued.”
“I know he is no coward. If he were… in the Magic Cup Court… he wouldn’t have refused the Elf King… wouldn’t have journeyed with us toward Anker Elf Court after our displacement,” Iristin murmured, reconciling memory against present pain.
CRRAAAASSSHHH!!! In Iristin’s heart-shattering moment of melancholy… the intricate network of fractures overhead finally reached its limit. A massive section of obsidian sky… embedded with glittering false stars… ripped free. Tons of darkness crashed down with terrifying momentum toward the Obelisk on its raised dais.
“GNNAAAARRRGGH!” The Centaur Lich exploded, rage warring with profound terror. Bizarrely, instead of dodging the descending lethal stone rain, its powerful haunches gathered and released. With colossal effort ignoring its stiffened joints, it sprang skyward. Frozen fists clenched… driving upward… not toward survival… but toward one of the largest tumbling obsidian shards directly above the Obelisk.
“Hmph. Impelled…” murmured a flatly observant voice from somewhere in the thundering downfall above ground level, as clear as chimes amidst chaos.
Simultaneously, a massive shape wreathed in roaring crimson flames plunged down through the maelstrom. Two horrific canine heads emerged from the duststorm generated by the collapse… jaws gaping wider, filled with curved daggers masquerading as teeth… biting viciously toward the Centaur Lich. Their frightful size implied they could shear the undead monstrosity clean in two!