Chapter 34: Beneath the False Church
The wind shifted, blowing hard from the opposite direction.
Elina stared down at Dally. The chaotic, trance-like haze in his eyes had vanished, leaving only raw panic. She didn't hesitate, hooking her heel behind his ankle, she wrenched him down and dropped her full weight onto his chest, pinning him to the dirt.
"You—! Get off me, lady! I have to go!" Dally thrashed, trying to buck her off.
Elina clamped down harder, locking her grip. If she could hold him here, half their problems evaporated.
The problem was that Dally wasn't going quietly. He twisted and shoved, turning the clash into a brutal wrestling match. Every muscle strained as they traded leverage, neither side able to break the deadlock. It came down to sheer endurance.
And Elina was hitting a wall. Days of running on empty rations were catching up to her all at once. Her vision grayed at the edges, her arms trembling under the strain. At this rate...
She muttered a sharp, compressed syllable. A violent flash of light burst directly between them. Dally instinctively screwed his eyes shut, his hands flying up, and in that micro-second, Elina snapped a binding spell over his wrists.
Except Dally had anticipated it. A short dagger materialized in his fist, and he slashed downward with terrifying speed, shearing through the magical bindings before they could set. The spell shattered into harmless sparks.
Even Captain Caelan had trouble breaking that on the first try.
What was this man? Mages were supposed to specialize, but Dally moved through physical combat and high-end spellcraft like it was second nature.
"My dear lady," Dally puffed out an awkward, nervous breath, brushing dirt off his coat, "as fun as this has been, I really need to run. So if you'd be so kind..."
"No," Elina said, her voice flat and steady. "If I let you walk away right now, I don't deserve to call myself a knight."
Silence dropped between them. They stared each other down, both breathing heavily, both battered. The math was simple: neither of them had the gas left to finish the other off here.
This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
Dally’s eyes darted toward the distant church, anxiety tightening his face. Every second ticked like a bomb.
"Look," Dally muttered, changing tactics. "How about a truce? One of your people is up at the church right now. Let's go together."
Elina froze. If one of them was up there, especially after that shockwave, someone might already be dead.
She clenched her fists, weighing the trap. After a sharp breath, she nodded. "Fine. But we move together."
Dally flinched, then offered a strained, jerky grin. "Deal. I can port us there, but you're going to have to grab my hand."
Without breaking eye contact, Elina stepped forward and clamped her fingers around his wrist. Her other hand hovered near her hilt, ready to run him through the second he tried a trick.
He didn't.
The landscape smeared into a grey blur, and the next second, the cold stone of the church courtyard slammed up around them.
Elina dropped his hand instantly. Dally didn't look back; he broke into a dead sprint through the front doors.
She took a sharp breath to steady herself and looked up at the building. Up close, it looked wrong. For a village this size, the structure was stunted, neglected, and half-rotted. Half of the roof had been blown clean off.
That's where the explosion came from.
She bolted inside, checking every pew, every shadow, every corner. Nothing.
Minutes bled away, and she found absolute emptiness. No footsteps, no voices, no blood. Just dust and silence.
How?
Dally’s panic had been real. Someone had been here. Which meant she was missing something fundamental. She forced herself to stop running and breathe.
Think.
If a person was here and vanished, they didn't walk out. Dally hadn't panicked about this rotting shell of a building, he’d run straight for the real target. This place was a facade.
She remembered back to a briefing with Captain Caelan, dealing with nested dimensions and layered illusions. What they saw on the surface was a decoy. The real structure sat underneath, folded out of phase. To cross over, she had to find the seam where the two worlds rubbed raw.
Elina closed her eyes, letting go of her sight to track the ambient mana.
A sharp spike of pain lanced behind her temples. Magic had never been her asset; she could feel the energy slipping through her fingers like water. But she couldn't afford to pass out.
She walked slowly down the center aisle, sweat stinging her eyes, tracking the mana's behavior. The surrounding air felt thin, restless, fleeing from a single point near the altar like it was terrified.
She stopped. This was it. The dead zone.
Without opening her eyes, she summoned her broadsword and swung it in a vicious, horizontal arc.
The blade hit empty air with the sound of cracking glass.
The entire church shuddered. Stone groaned, pillars fractured, and the air warped violently. Not wanting to get crushed under falling masonry, Elina threw herself behind a heavy stone pillar and braced.
The violent shaking lasted for three long seconds, then cut out entirely.
When she opened her eyes, the decay was gone.
The church towering above her now was massive, ancient, and immaculate. Intricate, glowing carvings lined the towering stone walls, and the stained glass burned with a deep, unnatural light.
It was the same footprint, and an entirely different world.
She gripped her hilt, stepping out from behind the pillar.
Now it was time to end this.