The Forsaken Hero-Chapter 642: Hidden Horrors

The screech of steel and blood-chilling screams of death shattered my sleep, plunging me into the midst of a battlefield. I whirled around, completely disoriented, until I realized it was just a vision.

A vast plan spread out beneath me, open and flat like a scroll. A few distant mountains hovered on the horizon, but my gaze was drawn to a mass of stone and enchantments on my left side. Towers soared into the air, built upon fifty-foot walls and bristling with magic cannons and other siege weapons. Soldiers scurried within the courtyards, dragging wounded from the walls and carrying arrows, magic crystals, and supplies back up.

A shimmering dome shielded the keep from above, generated by a powerful, seventh-level enchantment. Dozens of fifth and sixth-level spells reinforced the walls and gate. Most of the soldiers were only first and second level, but several elite units made of sixth took positions behind the gate, waiting for the enemy to break through. It was an impressive force and, while lacking compared to the empire’s finest, felt overkill for such a remote position.

The army array without the walls was humble in comparison, numbering less than ten thousand strong. Their souls, however, blazed like a raging fire. For every first and second-level soldier, there was a sixth to match them. It was a proportion beyond anything I’d seen before, save once.

A thrill ran through me, and I searched their ranks for a banner. When I found it, my heart leaped, and I clapped my incorporeal hands. It was them! The Last Light Company!

The battle was young, but many hundreds had already fallen, most from the walls of the fortress. Sixth-level mages and archers picked off enter squads of defenders with every attack. In normal times, each of these would be enough to decide a battle of this scale on their own, yet they filled out the Last Light Company like rank-and-file soldiers.

"Charge the gates!"

Bethiv’s voice cut above the tumult, and I willed myself toward it, materializing just above the fortress’s main entrance. The commander himself led a squad of familiar faces. Luxxa, her sword held high, charged in the front, Gith and Jenna behind her. Dozens of other fifth and sixth-level veterans joined them, an unstoppable tide that surpassed the raw, overwhelming power the demons had demonstrated in the Empire.

A magic cannon unleashed a furious streak of white light. Luxxa leaped in front and slammed her massive steel shield into the ground. A pulse of mana erupted from her feet, and hundreds of thick trunks and vines surged out of the ground, forming a half-dome around the advancing team. There were no chant or magic circles, but the power transcended anything a magical technique could accomplish. free𝑤ebnovel.com

The mana cannon detonated in the outer branches, spreading outward in a fireball that engulfed most of the dome. However, when the flames flickered out, the trunks and vines remained tightly woven, charred black but whole.

"Wind Blade!"

Jenna raised her staff, conjuring several sixth-circle spells at once. The moment they resolved, Luxxa raised her shield, and the dome collapsed. Howling gales blasted through the tumbling plants, striking the tower from where the attack had come. The mana cannon exploded, sending a dozen soldiers hurtling outward, plummeting to their deaths.

The charge resumed, and the team reached the gate. Bethiv brought his sword down in a vicious arc, releasing a seventh-level technique that sliced through the portcullis, gate, and bars behind it. The enchantments flared and quickly fizzled, overwhelmed by the sheer offensive power.

Another soldier, one I remembered but didn’t know the name of, led a group of heavily armored men in another breach, clearing the first wave of defenders before they had a chance to mobilize.

As the Last Light Company poured into the fortress, I rose above the battlefield, desperately searching for Korra. Seeing my old guards was invigorating, but it only made the hole in my heart more apparent. I looked for a glimpse of her short, brown hair or a flash of water mana, but it was only silver armor-clad soldiers as far as the eye could see.

The vision grew murky, but I clung to it, opening my soul to the threads of fate around me. Like with Luke, Elise, and R’lissea, I knew Korra’s soul. If I could reach out and connect with Fyren, surely I could find her, too.

But, try as I might, fate remained unresponsive. Disheartened, I started to let the vision go when another thought struck me. Turning inward, I drew on the bond I held with my marked demons. Immediately, thousands of fine threads of golden light sprung from my soul. Most of them formed a thick river westward, in the direction I could only assume the demon horde would be. Three of them, however, pointed directly down into the earth below.

I frowned and selected the largest thread, focusing on it. There was a faint tug and an impression of something hard and cold, like steel. The aura was familiar, but I couldn’t grasp it.

With a thought, I followed the thread into the earth. The sounds of the battle cut off abruptly, and my vision turned dark. A second later, the shadows lifted as I broke through into a low-ceiling cavern. It was dark and gloomy, the air thick with the stench of rot and death. A single light crystal illuminated the room, its light failing before it touched the walls some hundred feet apart.

The golden thread led deeper into the darkness, but my breath caught as I noticed what this cave was hiding. Thick iron cages lined one side of the cage, filled with limp beastkin and elves. Their bodies were bloody and bruised, emaciated to the point their clothing scraps hung limply on bony limbs. A few stared duly into the light, eyes vacant and uncaring. Crimson slave crests on their chests glowed faintly in the darkness.

My chest tightened, and I drifted back, gripping the hem of my sleeves tightly. My tail twisted in fear, and I swallowed hard, barely holding back a choked whimper. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the wretched slaves, forgetting even why I’d come here in the first place.

"No..." I whispered, "It can’t be. The Circle’s dead! I killed him!"

The heavy thump of footsteps jolted me back, and I shied away, hiding in the shadows of the cavern. Several burly men ran into the room, emerging from a small passageway I hadn’t noticed. They carried thick clubs with spikes driven through them and an assortment of shoddy, tattered armor.

"Damn it all!" the leader shouted, pounding the wall with his fist. "How the hell did they find us?"

"Who cares? What should we do about them?" another asked, jerking his thumb toward the slaves.

The first shook his head. "Damn them. That’s what. I’m grabbing the ledger then we’re getting the hell out!"

He ran to the corner where several desks lay pushed against the wall. I held my breath as he passed right by me, gripping my skirt to keep my hands from shaking. The others fidgeted nervously as the slaver rifled through the drawers, finally finding a heavy, leatherbound book. The book was sealed with a metal chain protected by a seventh-circle enchantment.

I eyed it curiously, memorizing the runes, but my frazzled nerves soon saw me distracted again, watching the slavers for any sign they’d noticed me. It didn’t matter that they couldn’t see me or that this was probably a few days distant in the future. It was the circle! How could I not--

The room seemed to freeze as several more footsteps approached. They were sharp and metallic, measured with a terrifyingly deliberate consistency. The slavers exchanged looks and fanned out around the entrance, adjusting their grip on their weapons.

"We can’t lose the ledger," the leader ordered, gritting his teeth. "I just need a chance to slip through and lose them in the tunnels."

A single figure strode into the cave. He was tall and broad-shouldered, with silver skin and clothes that gleamed in the faint light. Four massive swords trailed in the air behind him, floating without anyone to hold them. He wore a cruel smirk, his eyes glittering with malice.

"A-A demon?" one of the slavers gasped. "But how?"

"Kahlen?" I whispered.

The demon paused, brow furrowing. His gaze swept past the trembling slavers, coming to rest exactly where I was hiding. He stared for a moment before shaking his head and speaking.

"You’ve led me on a pretty little chase, mortals, but it ends here. Your fear is delicious. I cannot wait to hear your screams."

His aura rolled out, seizing the entire room with unbearable pressure. Every slave directly passed out at once, collapsing in their cell with muffled thumps. The slavers, the strongest only third-level, fared little better. One dropped to his knees, a wet stain spreading between his legs, while the others simply trembled, unable to move a muscle.

A single slaver broke free of the aura and, with a strangled scream, charged the demon. Kahlen watched him approach with a bemused expression, motionless until the man brought his club down on his head. Then, in a blur of motion, he attacked.