Chapter 151 – Cracks Beneath the Light
Morning arrived slowly, but brought no warmth. Sunlight crept between the leaves of the western forest, illuminating the battlefield that had become a stage of disgrace. Broken branches, lingering traces of magical explosions, and the scattered corpses of common zombies filled the air with the stench of burnt flesh and rotting blood.
Three figures lay among the ruins and charred debris. Their breaths were labored, their clothes tattered, and the wounds on their bodies spoke louder than any words left unspoken.
Aurelia, the haughty mage in the crimson robe, now lay limply on the roots of a large tree. Her red hair was matted with blood, her robe torn across the shoulders and back. Her eyes stared blankly at the sky through the swaying branches.
"What... really happened yesterday...?" she whispered faintly, her voice like a thin breeze trying to escape reality.
Not far from her, Sena the lancer struggled to sit up. Half of her body was bruised, her spear lay several meters from hands too weak to grasp it. She stared at the last spot where that terrifying figure had stood—but only a thin veil of mist remained.
"He... didn’t mean to kill us," Sena murmured. "He just... toyed with—"
"He humiliated us," came a sharp voice from nearby.
Riva, the shadow dancer, stood on shaky legs, her shoulder dislocated. Though her physical wounds weren’t as severe as the others, her eyes held something deeper: the shattering of pride. Cold. Full of resentment. But not toward the enemy. Toward herself... and one name absent among them.
Aurelia clenched her weak hand. "Arwen..."
Silence.
No one responded. No one defended him. His name hung in the air like a cold mist stabbing at their hearts.