NOVEL WEB Chapter 45 – Vernara Village (11)
Therys, slower, held his ground.
The petals around him wilted under the surge—
until the water-vines coiled around his limbs like serpents.
He didn't resist.
Not yet.
His eyes narrowed.
A breath.
A whisper.
"Return."
A soft glow—
The vines shattered into mist.
Ceyla, watching it all unfold, clenched her fists.
"They're… toying with them."
Khael tightened his grip around her.
"Just observe. For now."
His voice was low, but firm.
"We can't interfere. This is between the village and the rebels…"
(And I need to know the truth.)
(What's the real story behind this?)
(Why did they try to kidnap Lin?)
Li reappeared beside Ko—their movements in sync, like war-trained dancers.
Ko gave a slight nod.
"Separate. Target priority: Raiquen and Kirell. Others—immobilize only."
Li vanished again petals spiraling where he once stood.
Raiquen exhaled. Slow. Controlled.
"Tch… Still moving like an expert, huh?"
Ko appeared behind him.
"Still burning recklessly, huh?"
Raiquen spun.
"Try me."
Their fists collided—
Ko's palm crackling with water pressure,
Raiquen's knuckles blazing with flame.
Boom—
Steam erupted outward, a miniature storm forming from their clash.
Ko grimaced.
"And still predictable."
Meanwhile
Li surged toward Kirell again, flickering between shadows like a whisper of wind in the reeds.
But this time
She saw him.
Her breath hitched.
Instinct surged.
"Echo Art: Triple Mirage!"
A snap of her foot against the earth—lightning pulsed.
She blurred fractaled into three identical selves, each racing toward Li from different vectors: left, right, and high overhead. Their daggers gleamed with lightning-laced Shinrei, cutting arcs through the dusky air.
Li's pace didn't change.
His daggers reversed grip.
He closed his eyes.
"Echo Art: Scatter Detection."
A pulse invisible but palpable rolled outward from his body like a heartbeat of air. The petals around him twisted violently.
In that instant, the illusions shattered like torn silk dissolving into trails of lightning mist.
The real Kirell above was already descending, her dagger aimed straight for his crown.
She gritted her teeth.
Now!
This time she'd break through.
But—
Li's hand snapped up with precision born from thousands of spars.
Two fingers caught the blade mid-drop.
Perfectly.
The blade screeched against his callused grip.
He didn't even flinch.
His eyes opened, icy, unmoved.
"Too wild," he muttered.
"Learn control."
Then, with a simple pivot of his torso
WHAM!
He whipped her over his shoulder and slammed her into the dirt with brutal, unceremonious grace. The earth cracked beneath her. Dust and petals burst into the air.
Kirell coughed stunned. Shinrei flickering around her like scattered sparks.
Not far away
Sil Vorrun, glyphs already half-restored, completed a swift symbol—hand movements fluid despite his rattled frame.
"Echo Art: Mirror Delay."
A shimmering image of Ko formed behind him a mirrored double, rippling with unstable energy.
Ko turned, sensing the cast.
His gaze sharpened.
"Echo Art: Chain Torrent."
He swiped horizontally—his wrist a conductor's baton.
A long, snapping whip of water surged forward, coiling mid-air before lashing into the glyph with cracking force. The water sliced through the symbol's structure drenched ink warping into useless trails.
The illusion crumbled.
Ko didn't stop moving. His boots left streaks on the grass as he closed in.
"Impressive," he murmured, flicking droplets from his fingers. "But not enough."
A sudden roar echoed—
Braggen. Charging like a landslide, his barked skin glistening with sap-like sweat. His arms swung like warhammers, carving through low branches, petals, and air.
Li turned his head slightly, not fully facing him.
"Wind Press."
A whisper from his lips.
BOOM.
The atmosphere around Braggen detonated with compressed air. A concussive blast slammed into him at full sprint his feet left the ground as he was hurled backward like a broken tree, crashing through shrubbery with a pained grunt.
Across the battlefield—
All five rebels were fighting to breathe.
The petals they summoned fell limp.
The Shinrei in their limbs strained under the weight of fatigue and frustration.
They were strong.
Gifted. Raw with potential.
But they were still just that—raw.
Ko and Li?
They weren't moving to kill.
They were moving to dominate.
To remind them that they can kill them with ease.
What real battlefield rhythm felt like.
What failure meant when blood, not bruises, was the price.
Raiquen staggered back to his feet.
Scorch-marks lined his robe.
His breath steamed in the cool forest air, and Shinrei flickered hot across his shoulders.
"Damn it…" he muttered. His fists clenched, fire gathering.
"I thought we closed the gap."
Ko approached unrushed. Calm. Eyes unreadable.
"You closed the gap on classmates," he said.
"Not on soldiers."
CRACK.
A single punch—blinding in its speed—connected with Raiquen's jaw.
His head snapped sideways.
He flew—not from fire, but from impact—trailing sparks as he skidded across the dirt and grass, his limbs limp, eyes blinking stars.
A hush fell.
Then the wind returned.
And petals began to fall again—this time, heavier.
As if the forest itself understood:
This was no longer a spar.
This was a reckoning.
Therys blinked slowly eyes glazed with dust and disbelief. The battlefield's smoke and petals curled around him like memory.
Then, aloud, with a breath that barely held conviction:
"We're… no match."
Braggen, his chest heaving, spat to the side and wiped his mouth with a bloodied forearm.
"We can still fight."
His voice was rough. Defensive. Proud.
Kirell, her limbs trembling as she pushed herself off the cratered ground, growled through gritted teeth.
"Tsk... They're not even trying."
Blood trickled from her lips, vivid against the crushed blossoms beneath her.
Ceyla watched from the hill's edge, hands clenched until her nails drew blood. Her voice trembled not with fear, but with rage.
"They're... monsters."
The wind carried no answer. Only the sound of boots crunching broken earth.
Then—
Khael stepped forward at last. Eyes narrowed, hair swaying gently in the charged air. His voice was low, nearly drowned out by the wind, but Ceyla heard it.
"What is really going on here…"
The battlefield shifted again—quiet, tense, like a storm's inhale.
From the temple ridge to the east, a procession began. Robes of faded crimson. Tall staffs etched with Shinrei glyphs. The weight of tradition and history walked with them.
Three figures approached—
Elder Twe, hunched but sharp-eyed.
Elder Loe, face veiled, her presence humming like wind through reeds.
Elder Mia, draped in silver-blue, the youngest of the elder council, her hands never leaving the prayer seals.
And ahead of them—
Elder Lao, the oldest, his gaze distant. A staff of petrified vinewood rested at his side.
The three elders bowed their heads slightly.
"Elder Lao."
The old man's eyes opened, pale and heavy with years.
"You are here... Twe, Loe, Mia."
Elder Twe's voice rasped, but his tone held authority.
"The civilians have been evacuated. The village is safe for now."
Then he turned, sharp eyes locking onto the bloodied youth with fire around his shoulders.
"So... you are here, Raiquen."
The name shattered something in the air.
Raiquen, crouched in the distance like a wounded wolf, lifted his head. Blood clung to his teeth. His eyes blazed.
"I'll kill you all!!"
He lunged. A scream not of fury alone, but of betrayal. Of grief.
His flames flared, violent and chaotic, like an inferno with no shape.
But—
A shadow intercepted him.
Eliryn.
Her scythe spun—carving a crescent in the air. Her body collided with Raiquen's charge, halting his momentum with practiced grace and devastating force.
"Hrk—!"
Raiquen flew backward, flames flickering wildly, and crashed through the stone debris behind him.
Dust and petals rose in the aftermath. Silence reigned again.
Eliryn stood still, scythe humming low with Shinrei pulses, her expression unreadable—but her stance said everything.
Not hate.
Not pity.
Something heavier.
And across the field, Elder Lao closed his eyes.
"It's time." he whispered.
To be continue