Sarah fiddled with the ring on her finger, the cold steel a small comfort against the gnawing unease in her stomach. She knew coming with Leo was the right decision, even if the stoic guard captain hadn''t left any room for negotiations.
He''d been investigating this guild from the start, his gruff professionalism a shield against the growing panic in the city. Still, Sarah would have felt a lot better if she had her staff. It was an unfamiliar weight, but an extension of herself at the same time. With it, she would stronger, her stats higher if she supplied it with magic.
She left it tucked safely within her ring. Leo’s reaction to her revealed class had been… Complicated. A mixture of annoyance at her deception and something warmer, something that still made him flutter despite the grim circumstances.
The last thing she needed was to exacerbate the situation by brandishing a weapon that looked like it belonged in a nightmare. She’d trained with her hands and feet, a discipline she’d mastered twice. Now, it seemed, those skills would be put to the test.
Leo''s usually pristine white fur was now a disturbing crimson, matted and slick after he''d finished off all of the mercenaries. He’d dispatched them with brutal efficiency, a whirlwind of claw and fang. Sarah had watched, a knot of admiration and fear tightening in her chest. He was a force of nature, a predator unleashed. And right now, that predator was focused on the “Ale for All” guild
With a powerful kick, Leo splintered the door, sending it crashing inwards. The silence that greeted them was unnerving. The usual boisterous atmosphere of the guild was absent. No laughter, no clinking mugs, no smell of brewing ale. Even the receptionist’s desk was empty, abandoned. It was as if the guild had been evacuated in a hurry. That all they ran away. The guard captain was very imposing.
Sarah led Leo to the basement, the area previously guarded by two burly men. They''d actually been part of the guard outside and were now likely nursing some serious injuries thanks to Leo.
Or potentially dead.
Sarah didn''t care. They had invaded her home and killed children.
Without a word, the lion slammed his foot against the door, the hinges groaning in protest before giving way. He flexed his knuckles, a silent display of his raw power.
Torches flickered on the damp stone walls, casting long, dancing shadows as they descended the narrow stairs. The air grew heavy, thick with the smell of mildew and something else… Something metallic and faintly acrid.
Boxes were stacked haphazardly around the basement, some overflowing with what looked like dried herbs and alchemical ingredients. Rats scurried into the darkness as they passed, their beady eyes glinting in the torchlight.
The basement was far larger than it should have been, stretching deeper and deeper beneath the guild. It was clear that this wasn''t just a storage area; it was a hidden passage, leading to something far more sinister. They followed the passage, the silence broken only by the drip of water and the echo of their footsteps.
Finally, they emerged into a cavernous chamber, a vast space carved out of the rock beneath the city. And there, in the center of the chamber, stood the cultist who had attacked Sarah’s tower. He turned to face them, a twisted smile contorting his features.
“So, you’ve come,” he sneered, his voice echoing through the chamber. “It’s already too late.” He let out a chilling cackle, the sound laced with madness.
He was dressed in the red robe Melissa had described and was clearly the leader, despite the fact that the chamber seemed as deserted as the Guild House above. There were no other cultists present, no chanting, no ritualistic paraphernalia. It was just him, standing alone in the vast cavern, radiating an aura of delusional fanaticism.
He was shielded by a shimmering dome of magical energy, a barrier of swirling purple and pink mana. Inside the barrier, another cultist lay sprawled on the ground, her body impaled. Her eyes were wide and vacant, filled with a terror that transcended death.
“Aaron,” the cultist said, as if in answer to Sarah’s unspoken question. He seemed completely unhinged, lost in his own world of twisted grandeur. The air crackled with power, the magical energy swirling around him like a tempest. He looked prepared to die, and Sarah had a sinking feeling he intended to take everyone with him.
It was just the two of them against a madman wielding a dangerous and unpredictable magic.
“This is bad, Leo,” Sarah whispered, her voice barely audible.
Leo frowned, his eyes scanning the scene, taking in the dead cultist, the shimmering barrier, and the manic gleam in Aaron’s eyes.
“What do you mean?” he asked, his voice sharp and focused. He didn’t have time for vague pronouncements.
“That circle,” Sarah said, pointing to a complex pattern of runes etched into the floor beneath Aaron’s feet. “It’s meant to… Summon something, I think. I’ve only studied beginner Runic Language, but I can tell he’s not using it as intended.”
Leo’s brow furrowed. He understood the concept of runes, the basic principles of magical symbols, but he wasn’t an expert. He looked at Sarah, waiting for her to elaborate.
“He’s passing mana through it the wrong way,” she explained, her voice trembling slightly. She could feel the raw power emanating from the circle, a chaotic energy that threatened to spiral out of control.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
Leo still didn’t understand. He was a warrior, not a mage. He understood strategy, tactics, combat. Magic was… Well, magic. Something best left to those who understood it.
Sarah sighed, a mixture of frustration and fear. “Seriously?” she exclaimed, her voice laced with exasperation. “Not even a few stat points to spare for Intelligence?” It didn’t matter if Leo didn’t understand the intricacies of runic magic. Sarah needed him to understand the danger they were in.
“He’s going to blow up the town, Leo!” she shouted, the words echoing through the cavern. The fear in her voice was palpable. She didn’t know the exact mechanism, the precise chain of events, but she could feel it in her bones.
The chaotic energy, the distorted runes, the manic gleam in Aaron’s eyes… It all added up to disaster. He wasn’t just summoning or casting a spell; he was creating a volatile magical reaction, a catastrophic explosion.
Leo''s breath hitched. The pieces of the puzzle slammed together, the truth a chilling revelation. The shimmering barrier, the charred remains of the dead cultist, the converging mana – it all spoke of a desperate, reckless gamble. A gamble that would consume them all if left unchecked.
He had come here to uphold the law, to rectify the wrong done to Sarah, and to ensure the sanctity of the city. He wouldn''t allow this madman to unleash whatever dark abomination he was brewing.
"Stop this now!" Leo''s voice boomed, the authority of a seasoned guard captain ringing through the charged atmosphere. "If you surrender, your sentence might escape the chopping block." He held no illusions. The man was far gone, consumed by his own twisted ambition. Still, Leo had to offer the chance. It was his duty.
His robes billowed within the dome, the fabric rippling as the mana coalesced, building to an unbearable crescendo. Sarah and Leo stood outside, the tension a tangible force, a suffocating weight. The cultist, his voice a grating rasp, launched into a tirade, a litany of grievances and delusions.
"You dare interrupt me?" he spat, his voice laced with venom. "You think you can stop me? You who have allowed that… That abomination to fester in her tower?" He gestured wildly, his eyes fixed on Sarah''s tower. "She has ruined everything! My plans, my destiny! She mocks our legacy!"
He ranted about the injustice of his carefully laid plans, a constant reminder of his failure. He had moved in the shadows, his presence undetected by even Leo''s keen senses, a testament to his cunning. Leo, with a nose for the conspicuous, had been blind to the darkness lurking beneath the surface. Or at least it''s true nature.
"My brother," Aaron continued, his voice cracking with a mix of rage and despair, "he turned his back on me! He refused to help me restore our family''s honor! But I will do it alone! I will erase the stain, I will destroy those who dared to mock us!" His words spiraled into a vortex of delusion, a descent into madness.
"You think you understand power?" he sneered, his gaze locking onto Leo. "You think your brute strength can stop me? You know nothing! You are blind to the true depths of magic, the power that lies in the shadows!"
Leo, his patience exhausted, his instincts screaming danger, lunged forward. He slammed his fist against the shimmering barrier, the impact sending a shockwave through his body. The barrier pulsed, repelling him with a force that sent him flying back, crashing to the ground.
The cultist’s laughter, a high-pitched, manic cackle, echoed through the air. "Fool! You think you can break this shield with your pathetically, overated strength? You are nothing!" He condescended Leo, his voice dripping with contempt. "You and your kind are blind to the true potential of magic. You cling to your petty laws and your feeble understanding, while I grasp the very essence of power!"
Sarah, her face a mask of fury, stepped forward. She wouldn''t let this madman mock her, belittle her ears work. She wouldn''t let him destroy everything she had worked for. It had only been a week, but Grower had grown on her.
She channeled her energy, invoking (Form of the Necromancer) raising her attack 75%. Her outfit, a blend of white, shimmering arcane threads, pulsed with mana, doubling her stats, transforming her into a force of raw, untamed power.
She launched herself at the barrier, a dark blur of motion, her intent clear: to shatter the shield like fragile glass. With her enhanced strength and speed, the barrier should have crumbled before her. But the magical shield, bolstered by the chaotic energy within, held firm. It repelled her with the same force it had repelled Leo, sending her staggering back.
The cultist’s laughter intensified, a mocking, triumphant sound. "You? A Necromancer? You are a joke! How were you able to disrupt my rituals? You are inept! You are nothing but a stain on the true art of magic!" He turned his attention to the ritual circle, his voice laced with scorn. "And your guardians, those pathetic excuses for protectors, they were even weaker! They couldn''t even stop me! If it wasn''t for that fucking door!"
His words, laced with venom and contempt, pushed Sarah over the edge. She wouldn''t tolerate his insults, wouldn''t allow him to belittle her or her guardians. With a flick of her wrist, she withdrew the Staff of Death from her ring, the obsidian staff pulsing with dark energy.
The staff, a relic of immense power, a conduit for the very essence of death, a potent weapon, a symbol of mastery over the necromantic arts.
"You dare speak of my guardians?" she hissed, her voice a low, dangerous growl. "You dare insult my tower?" The staff hummed in her grip, the air around her crackling with dark energy as she supplied the mana required. "You crossed a line, Dickhead. You like an everyday dictator who thinks they do tas they please. But, you''re going to pay for your arrogance."
The cultist, oblivious to the storm brewing within Sarah, continued his rant, his voice rising in a crescendo of madness. "You think you can stop me? You think you can contain this power? I am beyond your comprehension! I am the harbinger! The source of power, of dominance, of absolute control!"
He raised his hands, the runes on the floor glowing brighter, the chaotic energy within swirling faster, building towards a cataclysmic release. "You will all witness my ascension! You will all bow before my power!"
Leo, recovering from the impact, watched Sarah, his heart pounding in his chest. He knew she was powerful, knew she was capable of incredible feats of magic. But the energy radiating inside the cavern, the sheer chaotic force swirling within, was unlike anything he had ever witnessed. He knew that even Sarah, with her enhanced abilities, might not be enough to stop what was coming.
He had to act, had to find a way to break through the barrier, to stop the cultist before he unleashed his destructive magic. He scanned the barrier, searching for a weakness, a flaw in the shimmering surface. He noticed the runes, their patterns shifting and changing, their glow pulsing with erratic intensity.
Sarah''s eyes, twin points of focused fury, locked onto the cultist. The Staff of Death, cold and heavy in her grasp, pulsed with a dark energy that mirrored her own surging resolve. No subtle approach, no calculated strike; raw, untamed power was her only answer. She launched herself forward, a blur against the dim backdrop of the ritual chamber.
Days of rigorous training, of pushing herself to the edge, culminated in this moment. She was a human projectile, a force of nature unleashed, crashing into the shimmering barrier with the brutal, unstoppable impact of a runaway freight train. The air crackled, the barrier warped, and the force of the collision reverberated through the very stones beneath their feet