Chapter 600
But before he began, he spoke to the open air, a silent address to the being he carried within. "I know you heard my words with my brother, and I plan on keeping my promise. I will drag you down with me before I let you unleash your rage upon us."
He paused, a flicker of something akin to awe crossing his face. "I was too young back then to understand what my mentor meant by ’cursing’ me with you. But I cannot deny the help you’ve been all these years."
"Imagine my surprise when mana and magic, things so simple to me, were a struggle for all my peers and comrades. At first, I thought it was my talent, my genius. But it was only when I tried to diversify into elements that were not my own that I knew the truth—it was all your doing."
Vellok reached out, and the very light in the air seemed to coalesce into a brilliant orb in his palm. "Comprehending the light element was as simple as breathing for me," he confessed, the orb pulsing in time with his words.
"Magic spells about light were so easy to understand, I could create more powerful ones with a single thought. It truly is unfair that beings like you exist. While mortals like us suffer to grasp and grow with each step, all you need to do is breathe and exist to reach a height unimaginable to most." He tightened his grip on the light, his knuckles pale. "Even now, when it seems like I have you in my palm, your existence makes a mockery of mine, where even your cage is too hot to hold." Vellok said this to get a response but he got none.
Vellok’s eyes, glazed with a cold anger from the silence, narrowed. He let out a deep, controlled breath, and a massive, pure white wing unfurled from his back.
This was no theatrical display meant to intimidate this time; it was an expression of power focused with a singular purpose. With a sharp snap of his fingers, a sound like a cracking whip echoed through the sky. From him, a wave of pure light erupted and began to spread. The corrupted lands below, bathed in the cleansing light, instantly turned to ash, a testament to the divine power being wielded. In a flash, he was gone, his work complete.
Meanwhile, back at what was once Kaelen’s somber mansion, the estate had been completely transformed. It was now a lavish, festive spectacle. The tech puppets Rattan had built were dressed in exquisite outfits, positioned perfectly in their designated places, their polished forms waiting silently for the guests to arrive.
The grand doors of the mansion swung open to reveal the first of the ogre generals. Each one was a hulking mass of muscle and armor, their scarred faces and grim expressions a stark contrast to the festive décor. They grunted and eyed the silently standing puppets with suspicion, their heavy footsteps echoing on the polished marble floors as they moved into the great hall.
As they took their places, Kaelen emerged from a side chamber, still moving with a slight, theatrical limp. His presence silenced the low murmurs, all eyes turning to their king. He looked out at his generals, a subtle, almost condescending grin playing on his lips.