Chapter 392: Arden, Guardian of the Sylvan

The Frost Whisper warriors moved swiftly out of the way of their chieftain and bowed in deference. The colossal sabertooth growled at Stryg and slowly stalked towards him and his friends.

“Holy shit!” Plum gasped and scrambled to hide behind Stryg. “What do we do?”

“Kill it, of course,” Tauri said grimly. “That beast is a true green mage, we don’t know what he’s truly capable of. We need to put him down quickly.”

Stryg shook his numbly, “That beast is Arden, Protector of the Silver Halls and Champion of the Lunar Elect. I know what he’s capable of. He is the Guardian of the Sylvan.”

“Guardian?” Plum frowned. “Wait, as in the Guardian? What the fuck is he doing here!?”

“Can someone please explain what’s going on!? He’s getting closer!” Tauri said frantically.

“Run, both of you. I’ll buy you time,” Stryg whispered solemnly.

Tauri stiffened at his tone, but she nodded. “Only fight as long as you have to, run when you get the chance.” She tossed Plum over her back and ran away as quickly as she could.

Arden glanced at the fleeing orc and drow and growled. Giant spires of rock burst out from the ground around the two women, trapping them in a cage of stone. Tauri instantly switched into a vigor spell and kicked a spire with all her strength. She yelped in pain and fell back from the sudden recoil. The spire was unharmed, with not even a crack.

“Fleeing is not the way of the Sylvan or did your mother forget to teach you that, cub?” Arden said in a deep rumbling voice.

“Let them go!” Stryg shouted.

“No.”

Stryg knew the answer before the word escaped the sabertooth’s mouth. And yet it did nothing to cool the anger boiling within him. Black mana surged from his heart and the shadows around him darkened and shot out towards Arden, swirling in a storm of darkness until it formed a dome of shadows around the both of them.

Even without the sunlight, Stryg could clearly see his enemy within the dome. The massive sabertooth stood still, his breathing calm. Something was off.

It didn’t matter.

In this place, Stryg had the advantage. He drew the relic sword and prepared to strike. The earth beneath them erupted in a shower of rocks, shredding the shadow dome apart like paper. Stryg instinctively covered his face with his arms. Several smaller rocks the size of snowballs smashed into his body and sent him flying back. His body spun in the air and he crashed into the ground in a haphazard roll.

Stryg groaned in pain.

“You’re sturdy, I’ll give you that, cub,” Arden said with mild interest.

Stryg opened his eyes blearily and frowned in confusion. He was staring up at the sky, it should have been clear, without a cloud in sight. But countless rocks were floating high in the air, ranging from the size of a coin to the size of a boulder.

Arden cocked his head to the side, “Is this your limit? Are you—”

Stryg suddenly threw his hands forward. Orange mana rushed into his arms. Flames exploded from his hands in a wave of infernal heat. Arden roared and jumped back, but the flames curled over the sabertooth, refusing to let him go.

With a deep growl, Arden shook his body like a dog shaking off the rain. The flames sputtered out of existence, a few small cinders left burning on the ground. Besides a few burned patches of fur over Arden’s body, he was unscathed.

Stryg stared in shock.

Even if the fur coat was thick, the flames should have reached the sabertooth’s flesh. What sort of body did this monster have?

“Flame magic, not bad. Yet you spent too much mana on that spell. You’re too impulsive,” Arden stated calmly.

His words fell on deaf ears. Stryg rolled over off his back and crouched on all fours. His eyes desperately searched around for the relic sword. If there was a weapon that could harm the thick hide, it was that damn sword.

“I see you’re as unyielding as your mother. Good, perhaps there is some fight left in you, after all, cub,” Arden said, amused.

The mantle of stones floating in the sky began to swirl above and around them like a whirlpool. The howl of the rocks roared in Stryg’s ears. He covered his pointed ears in pain and tried his best to stand.

Yellow mana flowed into his veins and a shroud of yellow scales wrapped over his skin. Stryg sent green mana into the earth underneath him to form a dome of protection but the earth rejected his ethereal energy. He realized in dismay that the entire area was already covered in Arden’s green mana. The arch-mage was already in complete control of the land.

He’s just playing with me… He doesn’t even consider me a threat…

The thought angered Stryg more than he thought it would.

A glint of light in the corner of his sight caught his attention. The relic sword lay on the ground ten paces away, half-buried underneath the dirt.

Arden followed his gaze and noticed the weapon. The sabertooth growled and the storm of stones fell down on Stryg like a thousand arrows. Stryg tried to cover his head with his arms but the rocks smashed his hands away and slammed him into the ground. His yellow scales cracked underneath the onslaught as the stone shower ripped the ground apart with countless holes.

Stryg felt as if the mountain itself was stepping over him, crushing him into dust. He couldn’t lift a finger, he couldn’t even breathe. He curled in a fetal position and closed his eyes tight. He poured more and more yellow mana into his scales but they continued to crack and break, unable to handle the barrage. Blossom’s petals tore apart as the cloak spent its mana trying to protect him.

Stryg’s mind began to fall into a haze, the world a rushing roar of stone. Then it stopped, like the eye of a storm. The stones slowed to a halt and regained their position in the sky above them.

Stryg lay still amidst a perforated battlefield. Pain wracked his body and blood seeped from dozens of small cuts. The last of his yellow scales broke into dust and faded away. He coughed up dark blood and winced with every breath. His muscles felt as if they had been battered to a pulp. He tried to sit up but his limbs didn't respond. His body burned, whether it was from pain or overheating of excessive magic, he wasn’t certain.

Probably both, he thought numbly.

“...up! Stryg! Get up! Please, Stryg, get up!” Tauri’s voice echoed in the distance.

It felt as if she were screaming a world away, her voice a muffled whisper.

“Run, Stryg, just fucking run!” Plum screamed.

Arden glanced at the two outsiders shouting helplessly from their stone cage, “Strange. They are going to die yet they only seem to be worried about you.” He turned to the blue goblin and stared down at him with indifference, “Do not worry, cub. I will not kill you. Your friends seem loyal, an uncharacteristic trait among outsiders, especially orcs. Nonetheless, I cannot allow you to bring a drow and an orc into our sacred lands.”

“...No,” a voice, barely a whisper escaped Stryg’s lips.

“You’re just like your mother, stubborn to a fault.” The sabertooth walked over Stryg and made his way towards the Plum and Tauri.

Stryg stared at them from the ground. He tried to channel white mana into his hands, enough to numb the pain, just long enough to move, but the mana did not respond. His body burned with pain and his heart beat faintly, slowing down with each pulse.

Blossom’s torn petals stretched across Stryg’s body and infused what little elemental life mana it had left into his body. It wasn’t enough.

A soft pitter-patter sound echoed in his ears.

Some part of his mind screamed at him that he was dying, but it didn’t matter. None of it seemed to matter. All he could think, all he could see, was Plum shouting in fear as Tauri threw flame bolt after flame bolt at Arden to no effect.

The pitter-patter noise was moving closer, ever so gently, growing louder.

The people he cared about were going to die. Again.

The pitter-patter grew louder, like a drumbeat in the water.

He was helpless to save them. Again.

His vision blurred and Plum and Tauri faded away as his mind fell into oblivion. His friends and loved ones flashed through his mind, each one of their smiles disappearing into the darkness.

They were going to die. Again.

The drumbeat rose, a chorus of rumbling sounds, echoing off one another.

No.

Not again.

NO.

His second heart roared in his ears like a thundering drumbeat.

Stryg opened his eyes. A cold chill like ice rushed into his burning veins as chaos flowed out from his second heart. He stood to his feet and looked over himself. Blood was still dripping from his cuts and his skin was scraped all over. But there was no pain, all he could feel was the cold, a sensation he hadn’t felt in a long time. It was as if he was a child once more, bathing in the Frost Tongue river.

His body didn’t feel like his own, as if it almost belonged to someone else, but he knew deep down it was his. It always had been, some part of him, this part of him, had always been here.

The breeze over the mountain pass fell silent and the blades of grass fell flat. The hairs on Arden’s body stood on end and he spun around in surprise. Stryg stood, swaying from side to side, amidst the wreckage of stone.

Arden glared at Stryg and roared. The mantle of stones flying above them answered their master’s call and fell down in a shower of jagged rocks.

The world felt quiet, slow as if moving through a deep current in the ocean. An indiscernible peaceful pattern. Stryg looked up at the sky, at the stones falling down on him.

The stones fell down in a rhythmic pattern, reflecting off each other like a pattern in a weave. They weren’t chaotic, not a single stone or pebble. Stryg watched them, admired them, and finally danced around them. Each step moving with the pattern, his arms gliding through the air, evading the larger stones, and pulling the smaller stones away with the palms of his hands. The spell was a song, each stone a note in a line that built into a masterpiece. Arden was a greater mage than he could have ever imagined, his control over Green was beyond anything he had ever seen. All Stryg could do was admire the song and dance to its melody.

Then as if awakening from a dream the song ended and the stone shower was gone. Stryg stood unscathed and alone in a ballroom of ruined rock and grass. He looked around and smiled to himself.

Arden stood in mute surprise. There had only ever been one mage who had evaded all his attacks in such a way before. And he wore that same unnerving smile.

Arden narrowed his eyes, “I was wrong, cub. You’re more like your father.”