After dealing with his tasks at the Brotherhood's headquarters, Berger and Blackie sped north.
Thanks to Nilrem's intel, they had already been made aware of the arrival of an Elder from the Cult of Bones.
Although the wandering Magus had assured them that the Order of the Faceless Magi would take care of the threat, Berger still couldn't help but feel a trace of foreboding in his heart.
This was an Elder, after all. Anyone in the Cult who could qualify to enter the Inner Circle was unquestionably powerful.
Even among the Mana Core Magi of Tron, there were distinct levels. And the Elders stood at the very top, second only to the Cult Leader himself.
Berger himself wasn't sure if he would be able to best an Elder in a one-on-one battle. If Blackie supported him, then there was a chance that they would co out on top.
But that's all it was… a chance. Not a certainty.
That was why the gno feared that the Order of the Faceless Magi might not be able to face the Elder head-on. He feared they were underestimating the enemy.
Firstly, Berger didn't know how many Mana Core Magi the Order had, and secondly, he was unaware of how powerful they were.
He flew over the ground at high speed, skimming vast plains as he rushed toward the battlefield. The air grew sharper with every passing second.
Perched on his shoulder, Blackie, in his puppy form, couldn't help but squint. "Do you feel it?" he asked in a grim voice.
The gno couldn't help but frown. Even before he arrived at the battlefield, the cold sank into his skin, biting hard enough to make him shudder despite his defenses.
"Yes," he said with a solemn nod. "Only one Elder among the Inner Circle has such capability."
Blackie growled. "The Winter Lord!"
The Winter Lord was one of the — if not the — most powerful Elders under the Cult Leader. And to think that he would personally co here was a great shock to them.
As Berger pushed forward, the land around him grew increasingly unrecognizable.
Vast stretches of ground were frozen solid, while others had been torn apart entirely. Craters covered the terrain, so shallow while others deep enough to swallow debris whole. All around them lay motionless undead, shattered or half-buried under ice and rubble.
"They aren't moving," Blackie said in a low voice. "Could it be…"
Both Berger and Blackie were unable to believe their eyes. It felt like entering an entirely different world.
The air was screaming with unstable mana, fluctuating violently instead of flowing in any natural patterns. It was the kind of residue left behind only by battles fought at the highest level.
Each surge of remnant mana made Berger's skin prickle, his instincts warning him that imnse power had been unleashed here.
The farther they moved toward the heart of the battlefield, the colder it beca. Ice clung to everything, and the damage to the terrain only worsened. There were larger craters, heavier destruction, and denser concentration of warped mana.
Whatever had taken place here had not been a simple clash. It had been a world-shaking confrontation.
"There!" Blackie suddenly said, squinting his eyes as he pointed his furry little paw toward the distant, narrow valley.
Bereger's flight speed slowed as he reached the mouth of the valley.
What lay before him was the aftermath of massive destruction. Entire sections of cliffs on both sides had collapsed inward, leaving huge boulders and broken rock piled high across the pass.
The ground was uneven and torn, engulfed in rubble. Beneath the debris, countless undead were buried, their broken limbs, shattered skulls, and frozen remains protruding from stone and ice.
Farther into the valley, a single human body lay motionless. Blood had pooled beneath it, dark and nearly frozen, spreading across the ground.
The mont Berger's gaze locked onto the corpse, his eyes widened in disbelief. "It really is the Winter Lord!"
Even in death, the corpse radiated a bitter chill. Intense cold rolled off it in steady waves, far stronger than the surrounding frost, as if the body itself had beco a source of winter.
Berger landed nearby, imdiately feeling the cold seep through his defenses. It gnawed at his skin and settled deep. He stepped closer and examined the body in silence.
The man's eyes were closed, his expression strangely gentle, almost… at peace. His chest and shoulder had been torn open by a brutal strike, the wounds frozen stiff.
Beneath his pale skin, purple veins spread outward in branching patterns, stark evidence of poison still at work even after death.
"It's similar to Damon and Vaelor's corpse," Blackie suddenly said. "The poison, I an."
Berger nodded with a grim look on his face. "The Order of the Faceless Magi…"
He inhaled deeply as he walked toward the corpse. At the sa ti, he instructed his old friend, "Scan the battlefield. Look for any traces left behind by the Stranger.
"Understood!" Blackie leapt off the gno's shoulders and disappeared behind the frozen rubble.
anwhile, the gno studied the corpse, trying to find any clues left behind by either the Winter Lord or his murderer.
Several minutes later, Blackie returned.
"Berger!" He called out. "I only sense one other mana signature out there apart from this corpse's."
The gno's eyes narrowed. "It would appear that the Stranger took care of the Winter Lord all by himself."
He paused for a mont, a terrifying weight settling on his shoulders. "We underestimated the Order of the Faceless Magi. It would appear their leader is truly a powerful and mysterious being."
Berger suddenly thought of sothing. He hesitated for a brief mont before asking, "There isn't any trace of the Hand of Doom techniques, is there?"
Blackie couldn't help but blink. "No, I didn't sense any. You think…"
The gno shook his head, sighing helplessly. "Just a nagging suspicion. Forget it."
Blackie said after a pause, "The other mana signature doesn't match Adam's. I am certain."
"I know…" the gno nodded.
"What about the corpse?" Asked the wolf.
"Well, we can't take it back to headquarters. It would turn the place into a frozen hellscape." Berger shook his head with a sigh.
He glanced over the ruined valley once more.
"We need to bury this corpse here and seal the entire battlefield. Who knows how many more years it would take for the cold to finally fade."
Such was the aftermath left behind when two Magi standing at the peak of Tron's arcane hierarchy clashed.
Their battle had not rely decided victory or defeat, it had scarred the very land itself, leaving wounds that ti alone would have to heal…
User Comments
0 comments from readers