Awakening Domination System: But I'm a Slave?-Chapter 238: Creature of Night [2]

The fireball swelled in Alaric’s palm, growing from ember to inferno. Orange light painted the rain-soaked street in hellish hues.

The coachman took one look at the roiling sphere of flame and made his decision.

He leaped from his seat and ran, boots splashing through puddles, abandoning his passengers without a second thought.

"Move!" Kelard roared.

Renard was already moving, threw himself from the carriage door, hitting the cobblestones in a roll just as—

WHOOSH!

The fireball struck.

The carriage exploded. Wood splintered. Metal shrieked. The horses, still in harness, screamed as flame consumed the vehicle. One broke free, galloping wildly into the darkness. The other collapsed, burning.

Kelard shielded his mother on the ground as debris rained down around them.

Smoke. Fire.

The stench of burning wood and flesh.

Renard pushed himself up, coughing, his ears ringing from the blast.

Then suddenly—

[Jolt Step!]

Lightning crackled.

Alaric materialized in front of him.

His boot drove into Renard’s stomach.

CRACK!

The impact lifted Renard off his feet. Pain exploded through his core. He flew backward, tumbling through the air, slamming into the wall of a nearby building with bone-jarring force.

He slumped to the ground, groaning, tasting copper.

"Who are you?!" Kelard was on his feet, essence already flowing through his channels. His hands glowed with brown light.

Alaric figure said nothing.

He raised his hand.

[Flame Arrow!]

Whiish!

Kelard slammed his palms to the ground. "Stone Wall!"

The cobblestones erupted, stone flowing like liquid, solidifying into a barrier three feet thick.

The flame arrow struck, cracking the stone. Chunks flew, but it held.

"Renard!" Kelard shouted. "Get up!"

Renard shook his head, clearing the stars from his vision.

And drew his blade.

"Die, motherfucker!" He launched himself forward, blade leading, rage overcoming pain.

Alaric reached into empty air.

A sword materialized in his hand.

Dark steel, slightly curved, with a red-wrapped hilt.

Renard closed the distance. Slashed horizontally, aiming for the throat—

Alaric’s blade met his with perfect precision.

CLANG!

But the steel didn’t just block. It ignited.

[Scorchblade Arts: First Form!]

"Flame Blade!"

Fire erupted along the dark blade’s edge, wreathing it in searing heat. The sheer force of the counter drove Renard back, his boots skidding on wet stone.

"Renard, back!" Kelard shouted, he had shoved their mother behind an overturned cart, out of the immediate danger zone.

Now he could fight properly.

"Earthen Spikes!"

Kelard thrust both hands forward. The ground beneath Alaric cracked, stone pillars erupting upward in a deadly forest of jagged rock.

Fast. Deadly enough to impale a charging horse.

[Burst Step!]

Alaric vanished in a flicker of flame, reappearing five meters away. The spikes punched through empty air where he’d stood a heartbeat before.

Kelard cursed about this stranger, who was fast. Too fast.

"Renard, pincer formation!"

Renard nodded, circling right while Kelard moved left. Basic tactics, divide attention, attack from multiple angles.

But Alaric tracked them both, utterly calm. Rain poured off his cloak. His blade still burned, hissing where raindrops struck the flame.

Renard lunged first, committing fully. A feint high, then a real thrust low, aiming for the kidney—

Alaric pivoted. His burning blade swept in a wide arc.

[Second Form – Flame Slash!]

A crescent of fire launched from the blade.

"Shit!" Renard threw himself flat.

The flame slash passed over him, scorching his back, and slammed into a building behind him.

Kelard used the distraction. "Tremor!"

He drove his fist into the ground.

The cobblestones bucked, rippling like water. The hooded figure’s footing destabilized—just for a moment.

Kelard pressed.

Then Alaric raised his free hand.

"Static Field."

Lightning crackled outward in a dome, a field of electrical energy that ionized the air.

Kelard’s eyes widened. "You’re a dual-caster?"

Impossible. Managing two essence paths was rare. Managing them simultaneously in combat was nearly unheard of.

Who the hell was this?

Renard was back on his feet, circling, looking for an opening. His breathing was labored, ribs screaming, but he forced himself forward.

He wasn’t his father. He wasn’t going to fail.

"Together!" Kelard called. "On three!"

"One..."

The hooded figure’s hand crackled with electricity.

"Two..."

[Lightning Bolt!]

The spell launched at Renard.

The bolt was instantaneous. No dodging. No blocking.

It struck Renard in the chest.

Electricity tore through him. His muscles seized. His blade clattered from spasming fingers. He collapsed, convulsing, smoke rising from his clothes.

"RENARD!" Kelard’s roar was anguished.

His essence flared, brown light becoming radiant. The ground beneath him cracked from the pressure.

"You bastard!"

Kelard thrust both hands together. "Stone Coffin!"

Stone erupted from all sides, front, back, left, right, above, attempting to encase the target in solid rock.

But...

[Aerial Step!]

Alaric leaped.

Then he twisted in midair, avoiding the crushing embrace of stone by inches.

While airborne, he extended his hand toward Kelard.

[Fireball!]

The sphere launched, trailing flame.

Kelard raised another wall, but he was tired. Essence reserves depleting. The wall was thinner this time.

The fireball punched through.

It clipped Kelard’s shoulder, spinning him around. He hit the ground hard, his coat burning, flesh searing.

He tried to rise.

Alaric landed gracefully, boots splashing in a puddle. His blade still burned. His breathing was even, controlled.

Kelard looked up at him through the rain, blood running from his mouth. "Why... are you doing this?"

Alaric tilted his head slightly.

Then he raised his sword, flames intensifying along its edge.

He stepped forward.

Kelard tried to summon essence. Tried to raise a defense. But he was empty, reserves depleted, body battered.

This was it.

The blade descended.

But—

"STOP!"

Vivienne threw herself between them.

Her arms spread wide, protecting her son with her body. Rain plastered her hair to her face. Her dress was torn, muddy, burned.

But her eyes were fierce.

"Please," she gasped. "Please, don’t kill them. Kill me if you must, but spare my sons."

Alaric paused.

His blade hovered inches from her throat, flames casting dancing shadows across her terrified face.

For a long moment, nothing moved but the rain.

Then, slowly, he lowered his blade.

And turned and saw Renard standing up slowly.

Alaric smiled behind his scarf and commanded. "Run."

Ranard’s eyes widened, breathing hard.

"Run if you want to want to live."