Chapter 124: The Tales of Cinder [18]
The rain continued without pause, like a relentless downpour announcing the end of an entire era. Droplets struck the castle ruins with force, creating a constant, heavy sound—like distant drums setting the rhythm of the battle. Water gathered in cracks and broken surfaces, flowing in small streams that carried ash and blood mixed together.
Azel kept his bow trained on the princess, but when she leapt to another rooftop between the castle towers, he lost sight of her. Her figure vanished into the rain and the shadows of the structures, like a specter impossible to pin down.
He frowned and turned his attention to Monar, who lay weakened over the crimson magic circle. Its light flickered faintly under the rain, as if it could go out at any moment. The strain on his face was genuine—what little blood he had left had already spilled from the stump of his amputated forearm, mixing with the rainwater and forming a dark puddle.
Breathing heavily, Monar lifted his head as he sensed Azel’s presence among the weak roots protruding from the ground beside the remains of the crystal flowers. The roots shifted slightly, as if alive, reacting to the flow of magical energy.
The dark elf gave a faint smile.
"Go to them," he said. "Win with them—and live."
Azel tightened his grip on his bow. The few drops of dried blood slid down his injured wrist, dissolving into the unrelenting rain.
"You say that like you’re going to die."
The elf chuckled softly, sincere despite his condition.
"I’m not going to die. It’s just that if I move from here, I won’t be able to keep enhancing all of you. The roots are already doing their part by becoming my eyes, so you don’t need to worry. Besides, if I move too much, I’ll lose the little blood I have left."
The archer looked down in pain, watching the water slowly carry his friend’s blood away.
"Monar, I..."
The elf shook his head.
"Go, Azel. Today we win—and afterward, we’ll go grab some drinks at the bar."
Azel felt a knot in his throat, an uncomfortable pressure that kept him from speaking properly, but he could do nothing except remain silent. Following his friend’s words, he leapt onto the castle rubble to rejoin Marco and Mitsuki. His steps echoed across the wet stone as he moved quickly.
Monar lifted his head and "looked" at the sky. The rain struck his face, sliding down his cheeks like invisible tears. He let out a deep sigh of relief.
"You two are having fun talking while we’re the ones suffering. How long has it been since the last time you spoke? Because you’ll have to set that aside to help me."
Monar’s relaxed expression turned serene. Then, his attitude and tone began to shift, as if two presences were fighting for control.
He answered himself.
"Finding an old acquaintance is quite a blessing these days. You already know that, Monar."
Suddenly, that serene attitude was replaced by a dark, arrogant smile.
"Don’t be such a killjoy, young elf. Let us talk about the past. You already have our power—what more do you want?"
Monar’s personality returned.
"I’d like you to lend me a hand so I can help my friends. You, primordial demon, boast about how I’ll regret this and all that, but you’re nothing more than a slacker looking for entertainment."
His face twisted again into that arrogant grin.
"When all that remains of your existence is your essence, believe me, many things lose their meaning. I simply look for things that amuse me—that’s why I accepted your call and the sacrifices."
The serene expression returned...
"However, you are very reckless, Monar. You know we have a contract, and you cannot allow just anyone to possess your essence. You were fortunate it was such a calm primordial demon."
Monar sighed. Calm, yet eyeless, he replied:
"I know that already. But we were going to die anyway. Now I just need you to contribute a bit more power to my friends. With that, I think we can win."
The demon laughed. Monar’s face took on a terrifying smile.
"We’ll see what we can do. In the meantime... Oh, acclaimed Lord of Green, what is an angel doing proclaiming himself the god of a color?"
"It’s not about a color, but what it encompasses. You wouldn’t understand. As for your request, Monar, our contract prevents me from refusing. Do what you must—and bear the consequences."
The dark elf nodded.
"I know. Take all the memories of my childhood. They’ll make good fuel to create power."
The demon burst into childish, mocking laughter.
"How hypocritical you are, young elf. You’re only giving that poor angel what you don’t want. You’re cheating him."
"Be silent, demon," said the Lord of Green through Monar. "Monar, our contract binds me, so do as you must—and accept what follows."
"Yes. So be it."
The demon laughed again.
"How ironic. You maintain your divine status, yet make contracts like us demons. You’re just as hypocritical as the elf—and that makes you the perfect slave."
The Lord of Green sighed.
"We come from the same place—remember that. That is why you are primordial and I am divine, for once we were both angels of Mount Zion."
Monar closed his eyes and tightened his grip on the staff, feeling energy begin to flow once more through his weakened body.
"Stop using my body to talk. It’s hard enough maintaining my spells and seeing through the branches at the same time."
***
The clash of swords rang out, scattering the rain in bursts as iron struck crystal. Each impact sent water spraying in every direction, as if the storm itself were being shattered by the violence of the fight.
Cinderella leapt from one end of the castle to the conical roof of a tower, then to the other side, raising crystal spikes from the ground to impale Marco and Mitsuki. Her movements remained light, elegant—almost in contrast with the brutality of her attacks.
Each time the crystals formed, she pointed her sword at the spot she wished to turn into crystal, and from there, like blooming flowers, spikes erupted in an instant, breaking through the surface with a sharp, violent crack.
Marco rolled across the slanted roof to avoid one of the crystal thrusts, planting his sword to stop his fall and change direction. Mitsuki, meanwhile, reappeared and vanished in bursts of ash, trying to close the distance.
Clearly, the duo—having taken note of every subtle movement—realized what they needed to do to avoid being killed by the spikes.
’We can predict the crystal attack if we don’t take our eyes off her.’
Mitsuki frowned and propelled himself through the ash and rain to reach her—but then he noticed something troubling.
’My ash propulsion... it’s heavier and slower!’
In his ash form, under the rain, his movements were five times slower. The particles became dense, clinging together due to the moisture, making movement difficult. It felt as though he were dragging his own body.
It was faster to run and jump than to waste mana on magic with such an obvious weakness.
Marco noticed it too.
At this point, the ash was like dirt—dissolving across the rooftops and towers until it reached the ground, losing shape and control.
’I hope she doesn’t notice this.’
Otherwise, he would be finished...
And in the middle of the rain, with the storm drowning out all other sound, the princess’s figure remained still, watching them from above—as if she were already beginning to understand their weaknesses.