The mad shadowspawn approached, laughing like a deranged being.
Wren's vision was restored as he could now see everything clearly. The shadowspawn looked every bit as harrowing as it was. He gritted his teeth, ready to summon a Memory, until Orion clamped a hand on his shoulder and walked past.
"You are nothing but a hollow vessel that only knows how to make noise when beaten," Orion spat, his voice cold. "Just like three years ago, before you ran with your tail between your legs. Fleeing is all you're good for."
Essence flooded Orion's weapon, and the blade instantly ignited with starlit flames.
The Mad Shadow let out a sickening chuckle.
"Let's see..." Its jaw distended, revealing rows of needle-like teeth.
"WHO IS THE COWARD!"
The two blurred, dashing toward each other in a flash of violence. But before the onyx claws could clash with the burning steel, a cascade of sparks erupted between them.
Wren intercepted the collision.
The heavy obsidian shaft of his manifested Memory slammed into the space between them, parrying both the burning blade and the icy claws with a deafening metallic screech. Utilising the recoil, Wren twisted his torso and delivered a heavy kick to Orion's chest, launching the Ascended backwards.
The Shadowspawn took three steps back, its crimson eyes narrowing as it stared at Wren.
"You... I know you, Broken King. Oh... you seem very angry. What could it be, I wonder?"
The monster's face stretched into a wicked, distorted grin.
"Ah... yes. That spearwoman. She was so succulent. You should have heard her wailing voice. I severed her hand when she tried to push me away, and then I ripped her teeth out—they got in the way, you know. Then came the truly interesting part... a white-hot iron rod. Watching her scream was beautiful. I only tore her head off when I finally grew bored. The only sad thing is that I couldn't enjoy her for longer."
Wren remained dead silent. Blood dripped onto the white sand from his fists, clenched so hard his fingernails pierced his palms.
Suddenly, the Shadowspawn stopped laughing. Its expression remained completely mad, but the pure, suffocating soul pressure it directed at Wren became palpable.
Wren's own killing intent flared in response, dangerous and unyielding. Looking at the scythe, the Shadowspawn's expression shifted from malice to morbid curiosity, and then it chuckled.
"What a strange thing to see in your hands," the creature hissed, its claws pointing at the weapon. "I must avenge that fellow now. We shared quite a close relation, after all."
A chuckle escaped from Wren's mouth, his words laced with venom.
"Yes, yes, you did have a relation. Poor thing, having daddy issues. But don't worry..." He paused, smiling with a wicked grin. "I have already sent that corpse; you should be thanking me for solving your family problems. In a few moments, you will be seeing your father after all, though I doubt he would accept a wretched animal like you. But I will still do it."
The shadowspawn lunged at him, its powerful hind legs propelling it at incredible speed, forcing the sand to lift.
Wren didn't flinch. Before the sharp claws could breach his guard, the curved blade of his scythe intercepted the strike in a brutal clash of forces.
The sheer impact forced the Ascended creature back three steps. Looking down at the Memory, it noticed the thick black chains wrapped around the shaft, acting as an extension for the weapon's lethality.
The Mad Shadow watched as the curved blade returned to its master. The Broken King didn't seem like an easy target, as the shadowspawn had assumed; it found itself unable to kill him due to its mission. How strange it was for an Ascended being to be unable to take the life of a mere mortal.
Wren glanced at the shadowspawn. He couldn't afford to die here, nor could he risk being trapped. The battle wasn't far away, and armies were already assembling. A full-scale conflict would begin in just moments.
Honour never exists on a battlefield; the moment he reveals a weakness, the enemy will attack. His body bent down as he held the scythe. For two moments, they remained perfectly still, and then they clashed.
A few meters apart, Orion recovered his footing. The dragon looked at the fight, its noble form already moving toward them, but Orion stopped it. The dragon grunted, its crimson eyes igniting with rage.
"It's best if you don't go there; he can handle it. Instead, we need to focus on fighting the bastards approaching us."
The dragon's crimson eyes scanned the distance before it let out a roar, spotting an entire battalion of Awakened beings, Ascended warriors, and three Transcendents bearing the sigil of the daemon legion.
Orion spoke to reassure the dragon.
"Don't worry, they have just revealed their main force, and we won't fall back either."
As he finished, the dragon turned its head toward the approaching army. The generals of the Divine Legion were here with their battalions.
Wren knew the crazed being had concealed itself on the battlefield, waiting for a chance to strike. However, it didn't matter to him; even if that wretched creature hid itself there, he would still find it and eliminate it.
Just then, dark clouds began to gather over the battlefield. If it were any normal place, it would have been a change of weather, but this wasn't a normal realm. The Hell of Ariel was always scorched by the incandescent sun during the day; however, the appearance of clouds meant one thing.
A Sacred had released its domain. Only one matched the description of the lightning furiously raging.
If the enemy was attacking so openly, it seemed the Spirit of Emotions had been injured and needed to retreat. But if she left, who would stop such an attack? In the end, their lives meant nothing.
Everyone watched the lightning rise and spread like a net, its thunderous might, and then, the lightning was going to fall.
But then, the lightning vanished entirely, surrounding space distorted, ripping open as if cut by a blade.
A figure appeared, and death descended on the battlefield. Shadows rose from the dirt, resembling the dead soldiers.
Wren stopped only for a moment before his gaze locked back onto his purpose. He bent his body and propelled himself against the pristine sand. Lunging at the familiar figure, he raised his scythe, and the violet orb embedded in the curved blade began to pulse.
He swung his weapon. The Memory shot a crescent blade made of darkness, which rippled and multiplied into many. But the shadowspawn dodged each one with fluid movements.
Wren followed the shadowspawn and shot more crescent blades, but it somehow always dodged them. As if it could read his movements, Wren's eyes widened as he looked down at his own shadow, which stared back at him.
'Shadow sense!' He thought. No wonder his enemy could dodge every attack; it understood the intent behind his movements.
The shadowspawn stopped in its tracks and looked back with a mocking grin. Wren stopped his movements, and the two stared at each other for one moment, and then they went for each other.
However, the two of them stopped; not just them, but the entire battlefield came to a halt, as if time had been slowed down to its edge.
Wren stared at the world; he was painfully awake, and then he saw it, or her...or whatever it could be even named.
She was unholy, divine, mystical, a visage stuck in the gaze of stars. Wren couldn't describe her beauty, as if words were lost between the strings of his voice. She was truly a marvel; she was... a daemon.
She was the Lady of Repose.
The radiant being looked at him with icy cold eyes. Her gaze felt both cold and warm; the darkness dwelling in his heart and soul erupted into violent behaviour.
A voice that sounded like the fall of a dead husk, like leaves that withered away in the dusk of time, spoke to him.
"In the end, you were the answer..." And just then, the world turned bright before darkness followed.
Wren's body disappeared in motes of light, and it wasn't just him; "two" more people disappeared in motes of light.
Time began to move in its flow, and the Lady of Repose was in front of the Shadow Lord. Their wills flared out, dominating the battlefield.
"This will be the last time we will be fighting here, just for a different cause." The creaking voice of the Shadow Lord whispered in Repose's mind.
In response, the daemon chuckled and said:
"I wonder if this spell of theirs can bear the might of us two, but then again, they always knew this would happen; in the end, we were at the grasp of his hand. So let's have this last dance... Shadow."
If the Shadow Lord had a face, he would have been smiling.
"Indeed, little Repose."
***
So, hey guys. I've been sick like crazy sick, so my mind is a mess, and I created this abomination, bear it, I beg you all. Also, I will produce the next three or four final chapters to end this nightmare—my nightmare as well— and will upload them as soon as possible, if my immune system doesn't give up again.