The Monster King's Legacy-Chapter 106: The Last Stand

Cauldrus lay sprawled on the cold earth, his breath ragged, his body battered beyond anything he had endured in centuries. His vision swam, blood dripping from his lips as he looked up at Ithil, who loomed over him like a conqueror. The younger elf’s golden-green eyes shimmered in the dim light, his expression stale as he pressed a foot into Cauldrus’ chest, pinning him effortlessly.

"You were strong once," Ithil murmured, his tone almost contemplative. "But that was it, you never went past that, you remained adequately strong, powerful, but now, do you still feel that is enough? After all, why else would you not make any effort to improve?"

The Elven King clenched his jaw, his fists trembling as he tried to push himself up, but Ithil’s foot pressed down harder, keeping him in place.

"I will give you one last chance," Ithil said. "Join me, or be swept away with the old world."

Cauldrus let out a slow, shuddering breath. His body was broken, his magic nearly depleted, but his spirit remained unyielding. Even so, it was clear to him, he knew it, he could not win this battle, not with the way things were now.

Even then, he wasn’t out of tricks yet, there was still one final act he could make. So, with a sudden burst of energy, he moved.

SHHHRIIIP!

Ithil’s eyes widened as a razor-thin blade of ice extended from Cauldrus’ fingertips, slashing through his robes and across his chest. A shallow cut formed, a thin trail of blood trickling down Ithil’s pale skin. The torn fabric of his shirt fluttered as the wind carried the remnants away.

For the first time in their battle, Cauldrus had injured him, and all it took was for him to let down his guard for just a sliver of a second.

Cauldrus panted, his head pounding. He had one last move, one final attack that could turn the tide, not just in his favor, but in the favor of the future.

Magical sigils ignited within his mind, his pupils shrinking to pinpoints as his consciousness surged forward like a blade piercing through the veil of reality.

He had used a spell, [Mind’s Descent], a technique once wielded by the most ancient of high elves, an assault on the very soul.

As Cauldrus struck, Ithil’s body went rigid, his golden-green eyes widening in shock as his mind was suddenly pulled. His consciousness plummeted into an abyss of memories and emotions—visions of a thousand years, the weight of existence crashing upon him in an instant.

Cauldrus pushed deeper, his spirit invading Ithil’s mind, unraveling his defenses like fragile thread. He would find the root of Ithil’s corruption. He would see what had twisted him into this, with the main goal to alter his mind from the very roots, changing his entire reasoning and future actions that will result from that… And then—He saw it…

The Crown.

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As soon as he saw it, at least, a telegraphed image of it, a weight unlike anything he had ever felt crushed down on his spirit. His thoughts blurred, his soul trembling.

’No, it can’t be, how is this there? How is this possible? What is going on?’

He saw the Ancient Crown resting within Ithil’s very core, its power coiled around his very existence, entwining with him like the roots of a tree around a most potent soil nutrient.

’The crown of the Ancient Sovereign.’ He said to himself.

Suddenly, a force unlike anything he had ever felt slammed into his spirit usurping him with great force, or rather he was expelled. His mind was forcibly ejected from Ithil’s consciousness, his body convulsing as he crashed back into his own reality. His breathing was erratic, his limbs trembling violently from the sheer force of Ithil’s rejection, or perhaps, it was the crown? There was no way to say for certain.

Ithil stood over him, his golden-green eyes now glowing, his aura fluctuating with something more than mere power now. He glanced down at the cut, his expression flickering with surprise for just a brief moment before settling back into neutrality, though ithad only been a fraction of a second to him, for Cauldrus, several minutes had gone by.

"...You still resist," he mused, wiping away the blood with the back of his hand. "Futile, but I expected nothing less."

Then, he looked at Cauldrus, "you saw it, didn’t you?" Ithil said quietly.

Cauldrus struggled to breathe, his entire body was drenched in sweat, his spirit fractured from the backlash of what he had just witnessed.

"The crown..." Cauldrus rasped. "You—"

Ithil’s expression didn’t shift. "I asked you before, but now that you know, will you join me? Or will you continue this meaningless defiance?"

Cauldrus closed his eyes for a brief moment. He had seen everything. The truth of what Ithil had become. The weight of the crown upon him. There was no stopping him now…

And yet—

"I cannot follow you down this path," Cauldrus said. His voice, though weak, held no hesitation. "You may have the power of The crown of the Ancient Sovereign backing you, but this is not the way, Ithil."

Ithil sighed. "I see. Then... you leave me no choice."

A single branch extended from the earth.

Cauldrus did not resist, not that he even could.

The branch pierced his chest, a soft pulse of energy flooding through his body.

A strange warmth overtook him, his consciousness slipping, his limbs growing numb. The pain faded as soon as it came, and his breath slowed.

As darkness closed in, his lips moved one last time.

"I am disappointed... that it came to this." His voice was barely a whisper now. "...Do not lead our people down the wrong path... son."

Ithil froze.

For the first time in centuries, he heard that word from Cauldrus. That title.

The last thing Cauldrus felt was the gentle embrace of vines wrapping around his form, pulling him into the depths of the earth.

Ithil scoffed, shaking his head. "Now you call me that?" His voice was quiet, almost amused. "After all this time... only now? In the end, a guardian is a guardian, you are not my father, but I won’t bury your care either. Rest well, Cauldrus." Explore more stories with novelbuddy

Silence filled the ruined battlefield. Ithil exhaled, closing his eyes. The Ancient Crown thrummed within him, its presence unshaken… One more obstacle had been removed, and the new era of the elves had begun.