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AliNovel > Walenciusz The Cat > Chapter 6: The Mill of Mayhem

Chapter 6: The Mill of Mayhem

    The old mill loomed like a decayed titan against the bruised purple of the evening sky, its sagging beams and moss-choked wheel whispering tales of forgotten glory. Walenciusz the Cat strutted ahead, tophat perched defiantly, the feather quivering with every gust of wind that rattled the skeletal structure. Gorrick’s heavy tread stirred the dust, Excalibur slung low and gleaming faintly, while Alice gripped her broom, its runes pulsing with a nervous hum. The Philosopher’s Stone was close—they could feel it, a thrumming pulse in the earth beneath their feet, calling them to destiny or doom.


    The trio breached the mill’s threshold, the air thick with mildew and the tang of rust. Shadows danced across splintered walls as Walenciusz lit a , its flickering glow revealing a cavernous interior. Broken machinery sprawled like the bones of some ancient beast, and a rickety staircase spiraled down into darkness. “Down there,” Gorrick grunted, nodding toward the stairs. “Stone’s gotta be below. Smells like trouble, though.”


    “Smells like ,” Walenciusz countered, claws flexing as he took the lead. The stairs groaned under their weight, but they descended into a sprawling basement, its walls slick with damp and etched with arcane runes that pulsed faintly red. The air grew heavy, oppressive, and then—a low growl rumbled from the shadows.


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    Wind GustIgnis Burst!


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    Fire SparksVentus Sweep


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    . But the Stone gave me more. Now I command the shadows—and these.” He snapped his fingers, and the earth shuddered. Trolls—dozens of them—erupted from hidden tunnels, their stone hides glistening, eyes blank with obedience. Gorrick cursed, raising Excalibur, its light flaring against the encroaching dark.


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    Wind GustFire Spark


    Wind GustIgnis Burst!


    Ventus Sweep


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    .” The gem pulsed violently, and a crack split its surface. Light erupted, blinding, and from within emerged a shape—small, sleek, feline. A cat, black as pitch, with eyes like molten gold, stepped free, stretching lazily as if waking from a nap. Percival recoiled, hissing, “The Guardian… it lives!”


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