Chapter 382: 382- Festival 113- Raid on a Rainy Night 52

Words : 1862 Updated : Oct 15th, 2025

Chapter 382: Chapter 382- Festival 113- Raid on a Rainy Night 52 Rain fell in a mournful coat, hanging a canopy of solemn tension in the air. Robed figures stood in the midst of it, expressions hardened from the trying times thrown at them mercilessly. What stood befall them was a raging dragon. Bound with blood and thorns, blood oozing down its scales like an ichor of gold. Low growls escaping her tired maw. Her eyes pulsed with the passing of time, withholding the pain that threatened to crack the mask of regality that exuded her. She was a high-ranking Beast, a named one with a historical past. Humans were not enough to make her wither in pain. No matter how sadistic they were. While she swallowed the pain, her eyes darted about, taking a view of the humans who surrounded her. It was one of them. It had to be. The caster of this wretched spell. The source of her predicament. The bind that sealed her shut, her glory and fiery might sealed away in blood. One of the humans stood among the fry, eyes peering into her, while his spell spread further. Springing forth pain that was never meant to be. Messing with a being that was never meant to be toyed with. Her eyes peered deeper. Scanning. Skimming. It was only a matter of seconds since all mobility had been lost. Her wings that stretched across the skies had been tied to the trunk of her body, crimson goo pinning her like an ant under a tea cup. She could attempt to escape. Flap her wings free and take to the skies, but the pain from the piercing blood thorns existed to stop her. Any slight motion, and her insides were churned from the sharp pain. As if a thousand immortal bees were stinging her all at the same time. Over and over again. The pain was mind-blinding. White light shot at her vision each time she attempted to move a muscle. The spell was broad as it was specific. And it performed overly well on large targets. ‘The perfect Man for the job.’ Roland stood aside from the group, yet his image merged with theirs. A constant reminder of his presence in the field. His arms folded, with a long silence hanging in the air. His gaze occasionally shifted to the caster. Yori Kan. A man of unworthy attention. Slouched shoulders. Dark pigment underneath his eyelids. A constant frown that resembled a man who had seen all life had to give and concluded that it was useless. Sharp, dark eyes, devoid of warmth. Wet, long, curly black hair that clung to his face and skin. He served his role well. Acting only when required to, and keeping shut when he’s not needed. It was what made him one of his best subordinates. ‘As well as one of the few people I am actually wary of.’ Yori was a level 90 Blood Summoner. He had come into the academy with that initial level and showcased a skillet that could only be assessed by those who grew through the wilderness. His gaze, though, tired and devoid of life, was always filled with intent. Not the kind that burned but the kind that froze. A controlled gaze. Quick-thinking and sharp reflexes. He bore no linage. No family. Simply a name, a profession, and a level. His eyes narrowed as he looked away, taking a step forward. He neared the fallen dragon, pulling out his executioner blade at the same time with a slight grunt. Its lustrous blade shimmered with the moon light. Basking his figure in a cold aura of a Centurion gone through many battles. Follow new episodes on the "N0vel1st.c0m". The Robed figures made way for him, while he remained puzzled in his thoughts. “Why does your owner not show himself?” He asked, his tone laced with curiosity as he glanced around. Ignoring Yori Kan for now. He needed to focus on the task at hand. “Where is Darrell Silvan?” He stared into Ignis’ eyes. A fiery tension crackling between the two. His eyes widened slightly, shock evident as he took a step back. Spirit animals or Beasts were unable to speak unless they were of the highest level. Mythical. They also possessed the ability to polymorph. Superior strength and intellect, compared to that of a human. One of them could cause enough destruction that rivaled one of the generals of the Devil King. Though, these were creatures that had only been sighted in books. Their existence would have posed a threat to humanity, after all. Ignis, or at least this level and tier of Ignis was incapable of that. But a royal was no play figure either. ‘Careful, Roland. We don’t want you aggravating a dragon.’ He thought to himself. A silent plea hanging at the back of his tone. Chuckling silently, he shook his head. “You can’t speak. You’re an animal.” Pulling his blade up, he stood tall and firm. Casting a downcast gaze on the Dragon beneath him. “Beasts like you are not meant to stay in the world of the Mortals for too long. I shall seal your fate in eternal slumber.” He let his blade linger in the air for just a second, bask of green energy erupted from his sword. Water and Earth in one of its purest forms. It exploded upwards, enveloping his sword and arm as a second skin. Infused with power that pulsed within. “Master Skill: Green Dr”– “ROLAND!” Snapping upwards, his eyes flared open in shock as he jumped back in an instant. A shadow cast over the spot he just left, and with it came an incoming drop of force. — BOOM! Something large, heavy. Powerful landed with careless force. Slamming straight into the ground with a thunder-like explosion that spread like cancer. The ground shook, tremors stretching across the earth in the form of spider-webs crack. A sonic blast shook the air, spreading and startling the figures as they took cover from the strike. Dirt and smoke rose into the air as a figure blurred in the mix. Stepping forward into the night light while the dust settled. “I think you’ve had enough fun with my summon.” Darrell stated. Voice low and rough, etched with anger and annoyance. Besides, him was Carl. Silent. Quiet. Yet, his presence held weight as it startled a few Robed figures. The duo stared at Roland who stood to his feet, folding his hands as his lips curled in a frown. “Darrell Silvan. You finally reveal your filthy presence.” “Roland Sunrise. Your pathetic existence as a Lecturer wasn’t enough? You decided to join a tantrum instead. Acting as the child you are, true and true.” Roland bit on his lips, licking them slightly in annoyance. His head tilted slightly, gaze shifting towards the boy besides him. They locked gazes for a moment. A moment that stretched far too long for a common stare until he looked away. A faint smirk loosening from his lips in the process. “Your insults mean nothing to me, Elf.” Roland never taught Darrell, but he wasn’t the first Elf he had seen. A few had come to the Academy, forging names for themselves within and outside the walls of the Academy. They were all the same. Proud. Arrogant. Aristocrats with pointed ears and female-like appearances. They weren’t worth the trouble. ‘Slaves.’ He thought with a subtle glee. A devious one that flicked in his gaze. ‘That’s what they are.’ Darrell, too, felt strongly against this man. Not because he had joined in a rebellion that threatened the Kingdom. He was an Elf. A Royal Elf with a Silver bloodline. He couldn’t care less about the System Uprisers. After all, They were a Cult of humans. Greedy humans who sought for a life they never worked for. ‘Always the same. They repeat the same cycle of chaos. Corrupting the heart of Gaia.’ But that was them. It was their business, and he wasn’t going to meddle in it. What truly made him spite the man. The human before him, was the state of his dragon. Casting side glanced at Ignis, he placed his palm on her hardened scale. Palm soaked in her precious blood. A throb pierced his heart. A quick and silent jab as his brows furrowed. “I apologize for my lateness, Ignis.” “Not to worry, My Prince.” Ignis replied. Her tone, low and somber. The pain had made way to her voice, playing unholy notes in her tone. Her head lowered, eyes closing shut. “It is my duty to serve the Elvin Kingdom. A rule thicker than blood. I simply serve.” Darrell sighed inwardly, stroking her scales with a solemn motion. A heavy heart thumping slowly within his chest. “You may leave.” Immediately, a bask of white light pierced through her body, enveloping her entire being in a semblance of healing. Her body tensed, and then it dispersed, white light trickling into the air. Blood rained down, muddied and deformed, slamming against the dirt of the earth while the rain washed its transgressions away. Darrell stood still for a moment. Expression unreadable. Hands firmly tightened. Dharma bodies, stiff as a still lake. Unspoken feelings hidden beneath his heavy chest. He sighed. Stood up straight and raised his head. ‘I won’t be able to summon her for a while now.’ His gaze turned to Carl. ‘She endured all that while I kept trying to wake this fool from whatever spell he was put in.’ A smile formed from his lips. He took a step forward, placed his hand on Carl’s shoulder while the latter slowly turned towards him. “Glad to have you back, Carl.” He said with an amused tone in his voice. They had only met a few moments ago. Heck, he had not even known of him until now. But warriors in arm fighting together on the same battlefield have one of the quickest and sturdiest bonds. The bonds of blood. He turned away from Carl after patting his shoulder. Lowering his body, rolling his shoulders and exuding mana in bits. “Get ready. We will round them all up, Car– –STAB. Time seemed to have come in slow motion, mind processing at a ridiculously slow pace. His eyes flared open in that state, mind reeling confused and startlement as he glanced down at his chest. Something sharp pointed forward. Through his back and out the front. A clawed gauntlet. Crimson liquid pooled over at the edges of the fingers, trickling down to the ground in slow steps. His breath hitched. Head tilting to the side. Pain eluded him. Instead, something else took root in place of it. A deep, gnawing feeling that clawed at him. A wound that festered from carelessness. Carl stared dead into his eyes. Emotionless. Unbothered by his very action. The sight shocked him. It startled him. It disgusted him. A scoff escaped his quivering lips as blood laced down from the edges. Right in the Heart.

Chapter 382: 382- Festival 113- Raid on a Rainy Night 52

Comments (0)