Chapter 121: The Tales of Cinder [15]
In the ruins of a destroyed village, Ellegaard and Jeanne advanced alongside Aslan, who had previously regrouped with the girls.
Ellegaard led the group while closely observing the debris. Her steps were firm and confident, and at times she used magic to move large chunks of stone that blocked their path. The rocks lifted a few inches off the ground before sliding aside with unnatural smoothness.
"There’s no need to remind me where it is, Aslan. I can clearly sense the remnants of mana used in that spell," Ellegaard remarked, her tone slightly impatient.
Jeanne looked at Aslan with an awkward expression, crossing her arms.
"When it comes to these things, she’s like a dog sniffing out a bone."
"I heard that, girl."
"Of course you did. With those big ears of yours, I’d be surprised if you didn’t."
"Princess, please. Be more respectful," Aslan said, fully aware of what would happen if the two girls started fighting.
They’d have to redraw the maps of this area...
Ellegaard sighed, closing her eyes for a second to contain her irritation, and continued walking.
The ground crunched beneath her boots. Fragments of pottery, broken wood, and remnants of old structures were scattered everywhere. Some walls still stood, dangerously tilted, casting long shadows under the dull light of the sky.
Soon, they arrived at the destroyed combat arena.
Ellegaard paid special attention to the large broken magic circle that formed the stage and frowned seriously. The markings were disordered—some completely erased, others barely visible beneath the ash.
She quickened her pace toward the area and, once at the center, crouched down, leaning on her magical staff as she investigated. Her fingers traced the ground carefully, as if she could read what had happened.
"What the hell happened here? Didn’t you see anything else, Aslan?" Jeanne asked, watching the elf’s investigation while nudging aside a charred piece of wood with her foot.
The old man slowly shook his head.
"It was only the ruins of a recent but fierce battle."
"And there was significant use of Divine Magic..." Ellegaard added, looking at the remnants of roots and branches hanging from the ruined walls. They were dry, yet still retained a faint green glow, as if they held onto a trace of life.
It seemed she could recognize who was responsible for that.
Returning to what mattered, she touched the tip of her staff to the ground.
The broken magic circle began to glow faintly with the spectral light of the World of the Ethereals. It was a cold, almost ghostly glow that outlined the shattered lines of the spell.
Nine pillars of rubble rose like the fingers of the undead, lifting slowly with a low rumble, surrounding the magic circle as if seeking to complete the ritual.
Aslan and Jeanne watched in silence.
When Ellegaard worked, it was best to leave her alone. That prevented the grumpy elf from getting angry too easily—especially now, when concentration was a precious asset.
"The spell was activated sometime in the afternoon, more or less, but the data may vary," Ellegaard said.
She stood up and struck the staff against the ground.
The next moment, the light of the markings composing the magic circle intensified, dimly illuminating the surroundings—but it flickered out almost instantly, as most of the connections between the lines were broken.
Ellegaard clicked her tongue in annoyance.
"This stupid thing. Who made this circle? A mentally deficient child?"
"Don’t get mad at the magic circle, Ellie," Jeanne said, trying to ease the tension, though a faint mocking smile formed on her face.
Ellegaard sighed in exasperation.
"Don’t call me that. And I’m not getting mad. It’s just that this teleportation spell is so poorly made it looks like it was built by an animal."
She raised her staff and pointed at specific spots around the area.
"Considering the traces of human activity nearby—footprints, marks from magical arrows, sword strikes, remnants of Divine Magic, Arcane Magic, and Natural Magic..." she paused, observing the scorched ground more closely. "...it makes me think a group of idiot adventurers were responsible, but..."
"But?"
"Look over there..."
Ellegaard pointed to a section of the arena.
There were black scales made of ash scattered among the debris, hardened by the mysterious curse. Some were partially buried, others faintly reflected the light.
"They’re scales from a Flameheart Dragon. You can tell by the oval shape and the two claw-like marks at the ends. The strangest part is that it’s a dragon race that went extinct centuries ago during the panic of the prophecy."
"Most likely, it was the specter of that very dragon," Aslan added, narrowing his eyes.
Ellegaard snapped her fingers and pointed at the old man.
"Exactly."
Then she lowered her hand, touching her chin thoughtfully.
"If I’m right, then the dragon was the one who activated the spell. And to make sure of it..."
She pointed her staff at the scales.
Drops of liquid mana seeped out of them, dissolving into the ground, yet seeming to invigorate the flickering lights of the spell beneath. The broken lines trembled faintly as they received that flow.
"So... it was a ghost dragon attacking a group of adventurers..." Jeanne said, lowering her voice without realizing it.
Ellegaard nodded.
"That happens far more often than you’d think—but not like this. There’s something else I’m not taking into account..." she murmured, frowning slightly. "...but I’ll think about that after I confirm what I want. There’s something more important—the reason we came here in the first place."
"You mean the Herald of the Unnamable, Miss Ellegaard?"
"Yes."
The old man nodded with a relaxed smile, though concern lingered in his gaze.
The elf continued.
"The group of adventurers had an archer, a swordsman, and a very skilled mage..." she paused, mentally reviewing the traces. "...but there was someone else with them capable of using very powerful Arcane Magic. Setting that aside, I think I know who the mage accompanying them was."
The branches and roots spread across the area seemed to respond to her gaze.
"Monar, the Lord of Green. Most likely the blond idiot and the womanizing drunk were with him, but I doubt the brainless mountain of muscles was there. That brute doesn’t know how to use magic."
"I see. It’s likely the Herald was with Marco and his friends when the dragon attacked them," Jeanne said, glancing around uneasily.
"Yes. The worst part is they probably don’t even know they’re with the Herald. If they survived wherever the spell sent them, their lives are in danger being alongside that monster."
The wind blew softly through the ruins, lifting small particles of ash.
"So what can we do? Figuring out where the spell sent them is difficult, isn’t it?"
"Not for me."
Ellegaard spun her staff skillfully between her fingers.
"If I take a few minutes to reconstruct the entire spell and improve it, we can go wherever they were sent—and return if the situation demands it."
She paused briefly.
"Besides, the Herald is still weak. If he weren’t, the teleportation wouldn’t have been forced upon him."
"And the prophecy said the Herald of the Unnamable will obtain his four powers. Ash is the first," Aslan added.
That meant there was still time to stop the prophecy before it truly began.
But Jeanne looked up at the sky in silence.
Gray clouds covered the entire firmament.
She thought about what she had told Ellegaard earlier—about saving the Herald.
"If we hurry, we can wipe him off the face of the earth. Besides, if we save those three idiots, they’ll owe us a favor. That works very well for me."
She returned to the spell and raised her staff high.
The air around her began to vibrate slightly.
"This will take me a few minutes. I need both of you to prepare in case we have to fight a powerful enemy—or have no choice but to flee."
Aslan nodded.
Jeanne sighed and nodded as well, though she didn’t look very confident. Her fingers tightened slightly around the hilt of her weapon.
In light of the insane adventure ahead, she looked toward the horizon.
"I wonder if Mitsuki would’ve liked being here..." she murmured softly. "She seemed a little happy being with us..."
Her voice was carried away by the wind.
At the same time, atop a distant crag hidden within the forest, two hooded figures watched in silence. Leaves swayed gently around them, concealing their presence.
"Sister..." said Seven, frowning as he looked at Ellegaard.
Nine smiled calmly.
"So that’s the famous Witch of the Path, huh... It’s best she doesn’t realize we’re here, or she’ll erase us from existence with one of her spells."
Her tone was light, but there was a real warning in her words.
"Besides, we already have what we wanted."
She looked at the strange object resting in her hands.
It was covered by a white cloth, but its shape was unmistakable.
A sword.
Clear and elegant in its silhouette.
The same sword that once stood embedded before the throne of King Uther of the kingdom of Holylight.
However...
The sword began to emit a faint golden light.
At first weak.
Then stronger.
"What... What is this?"
"Sister, the sword is—"
"We have to go, Seven. If they sense the growing power of this thing, they’ll come after us."
"Uh, yeah. I’m right behind you."
Both of them disappeared into the forest. Their figures vanished among the trees, leaving only the faint movement of branches behind.
"We still need to meet with Four and deliver this sword. Once that happens, you and I will rest for a few days. From now on, things will only start moving faster and faster. We need to be ready."
"I understand. I’ll think about it, sister."
The forest fell silent once more.
A catastrophe looming in the shadows whispered with distant mysteries.
Aslan, Ellegaard, and Jeanne had no idea what they were getting into—but the inevitable reunion was already just around the corner.
Clashes of steel erupted in the depths of Axorhibis, where Mitsuki’s final battle was being decided under the gaze of two primordial entities.
A demon...
And an unknown god.