ShadowBound: The Need For Power-Chapter 371: The Green Calamity (6)

The sun hung high in the sky, sun rays falling upon a sacred land kissed by myth and memory.

Below, an enormous emerald ring sprawled across the landscape like a crown laid upon the head of the world—its centerpiece, a shimmering cerulean lake so still it seemed like a mirror to the heavens. Towering cliffs encircled the verdant plain, their stone faces carved by time and wind, standing like ancient sentinels guarding a forgotten realm.

Lush meadows unfurled in gentle waves around the lake, stitched with winding paths and scattered trees that basked in the golden light. The entire ring pulsed with life, serene and untouched—like a hidden paradise suspended between sky and earth.

Beyond, a vast range of silver-capped mountains soared into the distance, their peaks slicing the clouds as if reaching for the divine. And at the heart of those mountains rose one mighty summit, wreathed in the glowing arc of a radiant rainbow. From its pinnacle, beams of light spilled out like a blessing—celestial, commanding, and holy.

Within the verdant ring beside the shimmering lake, Galen stood alone in the clearing, his expression twisted in mild irritation as his eyes scanned the strange, serene landscape.

One moment ago, he’d been in Icua—locked in battle with Gaia demons and corrupted hybrids, with Magnus tearing through enemies at his side. Then without warning, a portal had devoured him, dragging him through space and myst, only to spit him out in this peaceful-looking nightmare.

His hands stuffed in the pockets of his coat, Galen muttered under his breath, "What kind of bullshit realm is this?"

It was beautiful, yes—almost blindingly so. The kind of place poets would sing about and idiots would call ’sacred.’ But Galen wasn’t impressed. The moment he realized he’d been yanked from a fight and dropped in an unknown, eerily quiet realm with no immediate threat in sight, its beauty meant absolutely nothing.

Annoyed, he activated Ember Sight. His pupils ignited into brilliant molten hues—flames licked the edges of his irises, burning crimson and orange, dancing like living fire behind his eyes. With this vision, he scanned the environment for heat signatures—anything alive, anything moving.

But there was nothing. Not a flicker of life nearby.

Galen exhaled sharply through his nose, rage coiling in his gut.

"If someone dragged me into this damn realm, they could’ve at least left me something to kill."

Grumbling, he began to walk toward the lake. Maybe, just maybe, there was something lurking beneath the glassy surface. A leviathan. A serpent. Anything with claws or fangs would do.

But he only took a few steps before something stirred behind him.

A whisper through the earth. A surge of pressure. He sensed the attack coming—but didn’t even bother turning around.

"Huh?"

A thick, wide pillar of jagged stone erupted from the ground behind him, slamming toward his back with earth-shattering force. But it stopped just short—its front edge met an invisible dome of pure heat encasing Galen’s body. The intense temperature rippled outward, and within seconds, the stone began to char, burn, and crumble away like scorched ash.

Galen didn’t even flinch.

"What’s this weak crap?" he said in a tired voice, glancing over his shoulder, studying the smoldering rock with lazy indifference.

Another attack came from his left—a massive root pillar surged from the ground, aiming to impale him. But it met the same fate. The moment it neared the heat field, it withered and cracked apart, the bark blackening, sap boiling from within.

Before he could scoff, a third attack—this time from the right—a pillar of ice, jagged and sleek. And from above, a burst of lightning aimed to strike him like divine judgment.

All four attacks collided with the boundary of his heat field, each one dissolving, disintegrating, or simply evaporating before they got within a foot of his body.

Galen blinked lazily.

"That’s it?" he said aloud, genuinely unimpressed. "Whoever’s out there is either testing me or terminally stupid."

With a sigh that sounded more tired than angry, Galen vanished in a blur of flame. In the same breath, the four attacks collided with each other, creating a shockwave that blasted a crater into the earth. Dust, heat, and energy surged outward in a thunderous boom.

Galen reappeared on the edge of the lake, arms still relaxed at his sides, watching the mess unfold.

’There are four threats here,’ he thought calmly.

Scanning the area with his Ember Sight when he was being attacked, Galen was able to read each of the attack’s heat signature and concluded there were four different sources. However, all their mystic energy felt the same but one was slightly different. And this was from the ice pillar.

His eyes narrowed slightly. "A Primordial?"

As if summoned by his muttering, a voice drifted through the air—smooth, arrogant, and vaguely familiar.

"Apologies for such an... informal welcome," the voice called out. "But we’re on a tight schedule, and your death is, unfortunately, a priority."

A portal shimmered open ahead of him, and from it stepped a man draped in familiar robes. Calm, measured steps. That eternally neutral face. Eliv Borges—the Grand Primordial Mage of Crescent.

"Knight Magna," Eliv said. "It’s good to see you again."

Galen didn’t even blink. His tone remained bored. "Save the theatrics for someone who cares. Where the hell am I?"

"I’m simply offering you closure," Eliv said, giving the faintest hint of a smile. "This realm doesn’t have a name. So, in honor of your final moments, perhaps we’ll just call it your grave."

"Touching," Galen replied dryly. "Now tell me. Is there a portal out of this realm that leads back to Amthar?"

"There is," Eliv answered truthfully. "But not this one. This portal leads elsewhere—far from your allies, far from home."

"Great." Galen stretched his neck slightly. "Then I just need to leave you breathing long enough to open another one for me."

His hand still rested in his pocket. But the moment he finished speaking, the temperature around him began to rise. Not sharply—but steadily, dangerously, like the slow breath before an eruption.

Eliv remained perfectly composed, his lips curling into a faint, knowing smile. "Normally, I might be worried," he said, voice calm as ever. "But I’m not alone, Galen Magna. With three others—each matching me in strength—you’re hardly the nightmare they claim you are."

As if on cue, three portals shimmered into existence around Galen—one to his left, one to his right, and the third behind him. From each portal stepped a figure, each radiating a quiet but lethal presence.

Morbuan emerged first—calm, unassuming, and just as deceptively ordinary as before. He looked like a passing traveler, not a killer, yet the air warped faintly around him.

To Galen’s right appeared the second figure—a tall man, though not as tall as Galen. He had long green hair flowing down to his mid-back and sharp green eyes that sparkled with something unreadable. His faded goatee gave him a youthful, mischievous air, and his clothing matched the vibe: a shady green coat draped over a black shirt and pants, with a wide-brimmed hat tipped low over his brow. He looked like a bard who’d tell stories with a grin, then slit your throat before finishing the punchline.

The third figure came from the left—a smooth-faced man who looked barely out of his twenties. His black curls hung lazily to the side of his face, and his storm-gray shirt was unbuttoned at the top, sleeves rolled to the forearms. He was strikingly handsome, the kind of man who looked like he ruined hearts for a hobby—but the tight frown on his face and the simmer in his green eyes suggested a hair-trigger temper that could explode at the wrong word.

Galen took in each of them with his usual detached indifference. His eyes flicked from one to the other without a shred of intimidation, then settled back on Eliv.

"So these are the backup dancers?" he said, voice dry and unimpressed. "How adorable. You brought a circus to take on one man. That’s gotta sting your pride a little."

Though Eliv didn’t react, the insult landed hard on the third man—the handsome one—whose scowl deepened.

"I’m gonna tear you apart for calling me ’back up,’" he growled, fists tightening at his sides.

Galen grinned, his flames licking higher around his body like a cloak of fury. "You better keep that same energy when this starts. I was dragged away mid-battle, and trust me—you’re gonna compensate for that. With your lives."

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