Chapter 598
The worst part was the agonizing uncertainty. Was his will to survive his own, or was it the instinct of a body corrupted by Vorenza? Falling from a cliff, he would find himself instinctively shooting out webs to catch himself, an action born of a physical instinct that warred with his emotional despair. He was no longer a man; he was a tool, a puppet, forever bound to a life he no longer wanted.
Walking into the territory of a stronger beast, Chief found himself, almost on autopilot, killing it. His mind was a haze of madness, and he wandered aimlessly, a creature without purpose, until one night, everything changed.
He continued his walk under the cold gaze of the moon, just like any other day. All of a sudden, the anguished roar of Vorenza ripped through his mind. A wave of calm relief washed over his body and soul, and for a brief, joyous moment, the idea that he was finally free took hold.
But his joy was short-lived. He began to shudder uncontrollably. "It’s so cold," he thought to himself, a terrifying realization dawning on him. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt cold. He found himself unable to move, his feet somehow turning into a frozen sculpture that was rapidly climbing up his body.
Chief knew his time had come, and he welcomed it. It had been a long time coming. He had no regrets, only the sorrow of not being able to see his people stand tall and free. He shook his head, his thoughts turning to Rattan. Perhaps he should have done more for the boy. Rattan seemed destined for greatness, but he had lost his way.
The cold, unforgiving moonlight seemed to bless his final moments. His vision, already blurring from the encroaching ice, fixed on the moon, a cold orb in a sky he had once found solace in. The icy sculpture, which had begun at his feet, now encased his entire being, turning him into a grotesque monument of despair.
The forest, a place of life and death, would now be his tomb, a cold tomb to a warrior who had lost his way. The moonlight reflected off the icy sculpture, making it glow with a faint blue light in the night. The stillness of his death was a stark contrast to the life he had lived, a life of endless fighting and suffering. He had found his end, not in a blaze of glory, but in a silent, icy stillness, a tragic end to a warrior who had lost everything he held dear.
Rattan now acting as Kaelen took to the sky. With the capital of the empire sprawled beneath him, he summoned the frozen demon head of Vorenza, a grotesque trophy held aloft in his hand.
A profound silence fell over the city as Kaelen’s booming voice, amplified by magic, echoed through every street and alley. People stopped in their tracks, their gazes drawn upward to the figure of a colossal ogre floating in the sky.
"Your majesty, the Emperor!" Kaelen’s roar shook the very stones of the palace. "I, Kaelen, King of the Ogres, am proud to announce that I have completed your mission and brought back the head of the demon queen who terrorized our people!"