Chapter 220 Althur Malgraven
Althur Malgraven stood in the dark basement, surrounded by stone walls older than the ground beneath him. The air was thick with a mystical aroma—a blend of the scent of long-dried blood and freshly spilled blood, accompanied by a cold that seemed to embrace him, biting with a piercing chill. In the center of the room stood a large black altar, surrounded by flickering deep red candles; their glow pulsated like wounded souls, reminding him of a past filled with bitter choices.
As Althur pondered the sacrifices he had made, memories flooded his mind: visions of a village consumed by flames, haunting screams echoing in the air, and his friends abandoning him for greater ambitions. Those moments shaped his character and perspective on the world that stretched before him. He was entangled in an inner struggle, feeling the weight of guilt that burdened his soul, desperately reflecting on whether the path he had chosen was right or wrong. In those distressing moments of doubt, one figure remained fixed in his thoughts—Sibylla, the keeper of time and fate reader—who had guided him through darkness with meaningful counsel, though it came at a very high price.
On the other hand, Sibylla felt the heavy responsibility binding her to Althur. "You called for me, Viscount," she said, her voice softly vibrating in another dimension, like an echo emanating from a source hidden in the darkness of night. Each time she was with Althur, shadows of questions haunted her, disturbing the serenity of her soul: Was she doing the right thing by supporting Althur's decisions? Her knowledge of the future weighed on her mind like an invisible burden, and the moral conflict continued to tear at her heart. Every choice they made could alter fate, and she never wanted to become an obstacle to the good that Althur sought.
Althur nodded, his face imbued with an unreadable expression, as if many burdens were stored behind his sharp gaze. "We are heading to Stones. Our work is not yet finished. The news about the Avatar... demands that we act more swiftly." Within his heart, he felt the tension between power and vulnerability, as if his soul were split between responsibility and fear. He was a leader followed by seventeen followers, yet behind his seemingly confident exterior lay an anxious shadow—how every decision could impact the fate of them all.
Sibylla stepped closer, and without a word, her hand gestured around them. In the dim light, seventeen dark shadows emerged, forming a circle around them, each radiating a strong yet hidden aura that was intimidating. They were 10 other members who had been chosen—former hunters, wizards, and expert archers who had once strayed down the same dark path as Althur. They were not merely followers; they were instruments, weapons forged from the remnants of forgotten world secrets. Each one possessed a defining trait, yet their names often faded away like whispers carried off by the winds of time and buried mysteries.
However, within Sibylla's heart, uncertainty churned like an invisible current. She recalled the first moment she met Althur, when his piercing gaze seemed to ignite both the hopes and fears burning in her soul. Captivated by Althur's charisma and grand vision, she was determined to stand by his side. Now, amidst the approaching threat, her loyalty was ruthlessly tested. She knew better than anyone the dark future that lurked ahead if Althur failed, and that threat spun in her mind like a shadowy figure lurking in the dark corners of her consciousness.
"Prepare yourselves," Althur said in a calm tone, though unspoken tension filled the space between them. "We will end this journey on our own terms. We will take Rinoa from Stones. Fitran will not be allowed to obstruct our destiny."
As Althur spoke, dark shadows haunted his thoughts again—he recalled the painful moment when he stood alone at a crossroads, betrayed by a close friend who was willing to sell him out for power. That memory carried an unforgettable bitter lesson: relying on others is a terrible curse. With determination deeply rooted in his soul, he stood tall amidst the ruins of expectations that once bound him, vowing never to fall into the trap of betrayal again. Rinoa had now become the key to altering his fate, and he was willing to atone for past mistakes, regardless of the sacrifices he would have to make.
One of them, a man in a black outfit with a sharp gaze named Vekar, known for his ability to read body movements in an instant, nodded slowly, his eyes reflecting intelligence and vigilance. "What's our plan, Althur? Are we going to face them one by one?" His voice pierced the tension in the room, laden with hope and anxiety.
Althur understood that every step had to be calculated with precision. Within him, he felt the mingling of trust and anxiety emanating from his subordinates, a delicate strength and responsibility stretching between them like an intricate web. In Vekar's voice, he heard a question that resonated not just from one individual, but from the entire team that pinned their hopes on his guidance. The right decision would not only determine their fate but would also shape a new power structure in the future. "No... we will not be caught up in their game. This strategy requires complete cooperation; every step we take must move at the same pace, or we will all be consumed by the darkness," he asserted, his voice trembling with a conviction that stirred his heart and ignited a fire within the souls of his listeners.
Althur smiled slightly, his expression seemingly downplaying the significance of the question posed. "Fitran is already beyond our reach, but Rinoa is the focal point of this strategy. We do not need a prolonged fight; what we need is a perfect abduction. And Excalibur... it will be in your hands once this is all over."