Chronicles of the Regressor

Chapter 17 - Ashes and Shadows

The air in the Blackwood Depot warehouse was a suffocating shroud of raw, malevolent energy, thick with the scent of volatile reagents. Kaelen stood alone, bleeding, facing General Varkos and his elite guards. The commander's sneer was a mask of chilling triumph, confident in Kaelen's imminent demise. Kaelen felt the exhaustion, the searing pain from his reopened wound, and the insidious drain of the dark taint within his Aura. He was outmatched, outmaneuvered, and utterly alone, but a cold, burning rage ignited within him, hotter than any fever. He wouldn't die here without making Varkos pay, without completing his mission.

"You're trapped, Valerius," Varkos repeated, his dark blade gleaming, reflecting the flickering torchlight. "And this time, there will be no escape. You will die here, and Eldoria will fall."

"We'll see about that, Varkos," Kaelen growled, his voice raw, his Aura flaring, the dark taint twisting it into a cold, lethal flame, a visible shimmer of black energy around his blade. He charged, not for victory, but for destruction, a desperate, final act. He would bring this depot down, even if it meant burying himself with it.

The elite guards moved first, a blur of steel and dark Aura, their movements synchronized, professional. Kaelen met them head-on, a whirlwind of desperate parries and precise strikes. His movements were fueled by adrenaline and the raw power of his tainted Aura, granting him unnatural speed and strength, but the pain was a constant, gnawing distraction. He dodged a thrust, parried a slash, and slammed his Aura-infused blade into a guard's chest, not to kill, but to send a shockwave through his armor, knocking him back, buying himself a fraction of a second. He was a phantom, weaving through their attacks, his focus absolute, his eyes fixed on Varkos.

Varkos watched, a flicker of surprise in his eyes at Kaelen's ferocity, but he quickly recovered, joining the fray with a predatory grace. His dark blade moved with terrifying speed and power, each strike imbued with crushing force, designed to shatter Kaelen's guard. Kaelen found himself on the defensive, blocking, deflecting, the clang of steel echoing deafeningly in the warehouse, a desperate rhythm. Varkos was relentless, his attacks designed to overwhelm, to break Kaelen's spirit as much as his defense.

"You've grown stronger, boy," Varkos snarled, pressing his attack, his voice filled with a chilling amusement. "But not strong enough!" He unleashed a focused blast of dark energy from his free hand, forcing Kaelen to roll desperately, the spell searing the air where he had stood, leaving a smoking crater in the wooden floor.

Kaelen knew he couldn't win this prolonged engagement. He was bleeding heavily, his strength failing, the dark taint draining him with every exertion. He had to trigger the explosives. He glanced at the crates, his mind calculating the optimal moment, the precise sequence.

He feigned a stumble, drawing Varkos in, making himself appear vulnerable. As the commander lunged, his dark blade arcing for a killing blow, Kaelen unleashed a raw, uncontrolled burst of his tainted Aura, a wild, chaotic wave of dark energy that slammed into Varkos, momentarily staggering him and his guards, throwing them off balance. It was a crude, desperate attack, a last-ditch effort, but it bought him a precious second.

Ignoring the searing pain, Kaelen plunged his Aura-infused dagger into a large barrel of volatile reagents, then another, twisting the blade, activating the explosive runes he had planted. The air immediately filled with the acrid smell of chemicals, a faint hiss, then a rapidly growing sizzle.

Varkos, recovering, roared in fury, his eyes widening as he recognized the sound. "No! You fool! You'll destroy us all! You'll die with it!" He lunged, aiming to stop Kaelen, his face contorted with rage.

"For Eldoria!" Kaelen screamed, his voice raw, his eyes burning with defiance, reflecting the growing glow of the runes. He turned, facing Varkos, and unleashed a final, desperate surge of his Aura, a blinding flash of dark energy that slammed into the commander, pushing him back, buying himself a fraction of a second, a final act of sabotage.

Then, the world erupted.

The first barrel exploded with a deafening roar, a chain reaction igniting the others. The warehouse became an inferno, timber splintering, crates exploding, a maelstrom of fire, shrapnel, and concussive force. Kaelen was thrown backward by the concussive force, slamming into a wall of crates, his body screaming in protest, every bone rattling. He felt searing heat, the impact of debris, and then, mercifully, darkness. The last thing he heard was Varkos's frustrated scream, swallowed by the roar of the inferno.

Meanwhile, outside the depot, the battle at the main gate was still raging, a desperate, losing fight. Borin, a true force of nature, was holding the line, his reinforced shield deflecting blows, his axe a blur of destruction, but his movements were slowing, his massive frame showing signs of exhaustion. Seraphina, her mana core aching, continued to unleash devastating spells, keeping the Vorlag forces pinned, but they were being overwhelmed. Reinforcements were pouring in from all sides, and the mobile detection spell was still focused on them, its shimmering energy a constant threat, making retreat difficult, almost impossible.

"Where is Kaelen?!" Seraphina yelled, blasting a group of charging soldiers with a lightning bolt, her voice laced with panic. "He should be out by now! What's taking him so long?!"

"He's taking too long!" Borin roared, slamming his shield into a Vorlag knight, sending him sprawling. "Something's wrong! We need to pull back!"

Just then, a colossal explosion rocked the entire depot. A pillar of fire and black smoke erupted from the main warehouse, tearing through the roof, sending a shockwave that knocked soldiers on both sides off their feet. The ground trembled violently, a deep, guttural rumble. The very air vibrated with the raw power of the blast.

"Kaelen!" Seraphina screamed, her eyes wide with horror, tears streaming down her face, her voice choked with despair. "He did it! But… he's still in there! He's gone!"

Lyra Whisperwind, who had been providing cover fire from a hidden position, emerged from the shadows, her face pale, her elven eyes filled with a profound grief. "That was no ordinary explosion. It was… immense. He must have triggered the main stores. But there's no sign of him. No Aura. Nothing." Her voice was a broken whisper.

The Vorlag forces, initially stunned by the explosion, began to reorganize, their shock quickly turning to a furious, vengeful roar. Their rage, now focused on the Eldorian infiltrators, surged.

"We have to go back for him!" Seraphina cried, trying to push past Borin, her hands sparking with uncontrolled mana. "We can't just leave him!"

"No!" Lyra Whisperwind grabbed her arm, her voice firm despite her own grief, her grip like iron. "We heard his orders! He sacrificed himself to destroy the depot! We cannot waste his sacrifice! We must report! Eldoria needs this intelligence! We must live to fight another day!"

Borin, his face grim, nodded, his eyes filled with a terrible resolve, a silent tear tracing a path through the grime on his cheek. "She's right, Sera. Kaelen knew the risks. He bought us the opening. We honor his sacrifice by completing the mission. We retreat. Now! Before we're all lost!"

Fighting through their grief and the surging, vengeful Vorlag forces, Seraphina, Borin, and Lyra Whisperwind began their desperate retreat, leaving the burning depot behind, a monument to Kaelen's sacrifice. The mission was a success, but the cost was unbearable.

Kaelen awoke to the sensation of crushing pain and suffocating darkness. He was buried. Buried beneath tons of rubble, splintered wood, and burning debris. The air was thick with smoke and the acrid smell of burnt chemicals, choking him. His body screamed in agony, every breath a searing torment, his lungs burning. His ribs, already fractured, felt shattered anew. The dark taint in his Aura pulsed wildly, amplifying his pain, but also giving him a chilling awareness of his surroundings, the shifting earth, the distant sounds of Vorlag soldiers sifting through the wreckage.

He was alive. Barely. A miracle, or a curse.

He pushed, forcing his Aura to respond, to create a small pocket of air around him, to push back against the suffocating weight. He felt the weight of a massive timber beam across his chest, pinning him, crushing him. His legs were trapped beneath rubble, immovable. He was bleeding profusely from multiple new wounds, and the dark magic from Varkos's attack, combined with the concussive force of the explosion, had ravaged his Aura. It was a chaotic storm within him, pure pain and raw, untamed power, battling for control.

He heard distant shouts, the sounds of Vorlag soldiers sifting through the wreckage, their voices growing closer. They would find him. He had to move. He had to escape.

With a desperate, primal scream that tore at his throat, Kaelen unleashed a raw, uncontrolled burst of his tainted Aura, a desperate act of will. The dark energy exploded outward, shattering the timber beam, sending rubble flying, creating a small, temporary void around him. He clawed his way free, his body screaming in protest, dragging himself from the burning wreckage, leaving a trail of blood and shattered debris in his wake.

He was a ghost, a broken phantom, crawling through the smoldering ruins, his body a canvas of agony. His vision blurred, his head swam with dizziness and pain. He could hear the shouts of Vorlag soldiers getting closer, their footsteps crunching on the debris. He had to escape.

He stumbled into the deeper, darker parts of the Blackwood Forest, the familiar trees now a terrifying labyrinth, their shadows concealing unseen threats. He moved on instinct, driven by a desperate will to survive, by the burning image of Borin's defiant face, of Seraphina's tears, of Lyra Whisperwind's desperate retreat. He had to live. He had to report. He had to ensure their sacrifice, his sacrifice, was not in vain.

He walked for what felt like an eternity, his body failing, his Aura flickering erratically, each step a monumental effort. The dark taint pulsed, sometimes amplifying his senses to an unbearable degree, sometimes plunging him into dizzying waves of nausea and pain, threatening to pull him into unconsciousness. He collapsed repeatedly, only to force himself back up, driven by a single, burning purpose.

He finally collapsed near a small, frozen stream, his body refusing to move further, his strength utterly spent. He was bleeding from multiple wounds, his ribs screamed with every breath, and the dark magic was a cold, consuming fire within him, threatening to extinguish his very life. He closed his eyes, the world fading into a merciful blackness. He was alone, lost, and broken.

Days later, Kaelen awoke to the sound of muffled voices, distant and indistinct. He tried to move, but his body was too weak, too heavy. He felt gentle hands on him, the faint scent of healing herbs, and the soft texture of a blanket.

"He's alive! Barely!" a voice exclaimed, familiar, yet distant, filled with profound relief.

"The dark taint… it's worse than before," another voice murmured, filled with deep concern. "It's almost consuming him. His Aura is barely holding together."

Kaelen slowly opened his eyes. He was lying on a makeshift stretcher, being carried. Above him, framed by the grey, overcast sky, were the worried faces of Eldorian scouts, their expressions a mix of awe and grimness. And kneeling beside him, her face pale with relief and concern, her golden hair disheveled, was Princess Aurelia.

"Kaelen! You're awake! Oh, thank the Light!" she cried, tears streaming down her face, her voice choked with emotion. "We found you! We sent out search parties the moment we heard the depot was destroyed. Your team reported your last stand. We never gave up hope."

Kaelen tried to speak, to ask about his friends, about the war, but only a raw cough escaped him, his throat too dry, too raw.

"Don't speak," Aurelia commanded gently, her voice soft but firm. "Save your strength. You're safe now. Borin is safe. The depot is destroyed. You did it, Kaelen. You truly did it. You crippled their eastern offensive."

He felt a wave of profound exhaustion, but also a grim satisfaction. He had succeeded. The depot was gone. Varkos's eastern offensive would be crippled. But the cost. He felt the cold hum of the dark taint within him, stronger now, a permanent part of his very being, a chilling reminder of his brush with death. He was a survivor, yes, but forever altered, forever marked.

Back in the capital, Kaelen was once again confined to the infirmary, his recovery even more arduous than before. The Grand Archmage and his sister Lyra worked tirelessly, their brows furrowed, but the dark taint was now deeply ingrained, a part of his very essence. They could only manage it, mitigate its more destructive effects, not remove it. It was a constant battle, a silent war within his own body, a struggle for control.

"It's a part of him now, Your Majesty," the Grand Archmage reported to King Theron II, who visited Kaelen, his face grim, the weight of the war evident in his eyes. "His Aura has been irrevocably altered. It amplifies his strength, his senses, but it also drains him constantly, a slow, insidious consumption. He will live, but he will never be the same. He is… scarred, fundamentally altered. A living weapon, but a fragile one, constantly battling the darkness within."

The King looked at Kaelen, his face a mask of concern and profound respect. "A heavy price, Kaelen. But the Blackwood Depot is a smoldering ruin. Vorlag's eastern offensive is in disarray. You have bought us invaluable time. You have crippled their supply lines. You have struck a blow that will echo through this war, a blow that may turn the tide."

Kaelen, though weak, nodded, his gaze fixed on the King. "Varkos… he was there, Your Majesty. He anticipated me. He knew I would come. He is more cunning than we realized."

The King's eyes narrowed. "Indeed. Your report on his foresight, his adaptability… it is concerning. He is a dangerous foe. But you survived him, Kaelen. Twice. That makes you unique. That makes you Eldoria's greatest asset against him."

Princess Aurelia, ever present, looked at him with a mix of awe and sorrow, her hand gently resting on his. "You are Eldoria's phoenix, Kaelen. Rising from the ashes, even if scarred. A symbol of our resilience."

Kaelen scoffed, a bitter, hollow sound. "A phoenix? More like a shadow, Your Highness. A shadow that carries a piece of the darkness within him. A shadow that bleeds."

His team, Seraphina, Borin, and Lyra Whisperwind, were a constant source of support, their presence a balm to his wounded spirit. Borin, though still recovering from his own ordeal, was fiercely loyal, his massive hand clasping Kaelen's arm. "We'll always have your back, Kaelen," he vowed, his voice gruff with emotion. "No matter what. We're a team. We're family."

Seraphina, seeing Kaelen's struggle, dedicated herself to finding ways to counter dark magic, to protect him, to understand the insidious corruption. Lyra Whisperwind, her elven senses now even more attuned to the dark taint in Kaelen's Aura, began to research ancient lore, searching for any way to mitigate its effects, or perhaps even turn it into a controlled advantage, a unique weapon.

Kaelen knew his path was set. He was Eldoria's shadow, its weapon against the encroaching darkness. He had survived, but he was forever changed, his body and soul bearing the indelible mark of the war. The war was far from over, and the battles ahead would be fought not just on the fields of Eldoria, but within his very soul, a constant struggle for control. He had to learn to wield the shadow within him, to become the weapon Eldoria needed, without losing himself to the darkness. The true test of his regression, of his ability to change destiny, had only just begun.