Eternal Undying Chronicles

Chapter 165 No Show

The ritual had begun, and midnight's peak cast the village in an ethereal glow. The moon hung high above, illuminating the clearing, where witches hummed in haunting harmony, their voices swelling with the rhythmic chants.

Alicarde stood on edge, his eyes narrowing as he watched the unsettling beauty unfold before him. The melody itself felt like a spell, a song that lulled the night into a trance while filling him with dread.

Beneath their feet, magic circles glowed with runes traced in silver, feeding off the moon's energy. Tendrils of light wove from the circles up into the sky, forming an intricate lattice of raw, ancient power, encasing the village and stretching far into the forest beyond.

The energy swirling in the air was palpable; Alicarde could feel it pressing against his skin, electric and thick with intent.

His eyes traveled to Marian, bound at the center, her face pale but calm. Magic flowed toward her, funneled through the pentacle on her neck, and from there, it arced into the dagger held aloft in Cassandra's hand.

The half-ruined statue beside them began to glow, its stone surface pulsing as if a sleeping entity were awakening within. Alicarde felt a presence—cold, familiar, and dangerously potent. It was akin to Malefica's aura but older, more primal, tinged with the whispers of dawn and deep magic.

A chill crawled up his spine. He knew one thing: if the ritual was completed, something disastrous would follow. He had no time to waste.

"I can't let them finish," he muttered, clenching his fists, his heart pounding as he steeled himself.

A glance to his side showed Vidalia staring at the scene, transfixed by its terrifying beauty. He gritted his teeth and gave her a firm shake.

"Vidalia, now's not the time to stand there gawking."

Her eyes snapped to his, wide and uncertain.

"What… what about Lady Malefica?"

"The pentacle's here, which means Malefica's group will come back for it. But if Marian dies, it's over. We have to make sure she isn't sacrificed before they arrive."

Vidalia's gaze drifted toward the witches, noting the faint markings on their foreheads: Malefica's curse and the full moon seal. They were still bound, their power restricted, but the ritual was draining them steadily. Alicarde took a deep breath, steadying himself.

He extended his hand toward Vidalia.

"My sword—give it to me."

With a hesitant nod, Vidalia summoned her grimoire. She whispered an incantation, and from between the pages, a dark sword materialized, edged with a faint crimson glow. Alicarde gripped it tightly, feeling its weight and dark energy settle into his grasp.

He could sense the cold will from his soul, an insatiable call for blood that stirred something primal in him, urging him to give in and let it consume.

He gritted his teeth, whispering his truename under his breath.

"I am Aeternus, I am Aeternus…"

The words grounded him, pushing back the dark urges that simmered just beneath his skin.

Vidalia's eyes widened at his whispered truename, her lips parting in awe.

'He trusts me… he told me his truename,' she thought, feeling a surge of pride and loyalty bloom within her.

Alicarde focused unaware of the misunderstanding, channeling his mana throughout his body, activating his body enhancement magic.

His muscles coiled, ready to spring, every fiber primed for the inevitable clash. He knew he had to be careful; while the witches were weakened by Malefica's curse, Cassandra's power was still formidable. And facing more than two at once—even in their drained state—was a dangerous gamble.

"Wait,"

he told himself, his grip tightening on the sword.

"Let them wear themselves out. The longer they chant, the weaker they'll be."

Yet his patience was strained, knowing full well that one slip, one moment of inaction, could cost Marian her life.

"I'm still too weak…"

he muttered, frustration bubbling within him. His recent battles felt like mere distractions compared to the horrors about to unfold within the coven's ritual grounds.

He had grown complacent dealing with lesser threats, but tonight, he was reminded that the true dangers lay far beyond the confines of Evergreen City.

Then, a sharp intake of breath escaped him as Cassandra raised the dagger high, its blade shimmering with lethal intent. The energy around her spiked, and Alicarde felt the finality of the moment. She was about to bring the blade down.

"Damn it, Malefica, where are you…"

he growled through clenched teeth.

No more waiting. With a flash of violet in his eyes, Alicarde shot forward, a dark blur against the pale moonlight. His enhanced speed carried him past the edge of the ritual ground, and he closed the distance in a heartbeat.

Alicarde activated his gravity manipulation ability, [Flux Field], propelling himself forward with incredible momentum.

He shot forward like a dark comet, leaving a series of sonic booms in his wake. Yet the power was still rough and unstable; controlling it fully was beyond his grasp.

With a deafening crash, he slammed into the ground by the altar, raising a blinding storm of snow and debris.

As the dust settled, Cassandra's eyes went wide with shock, echoed by the other witches, who stared in disbelief.

"You... you! How are you still alive?"

Cassandra sputtered, her voice a mix of confusion and rage.

Alicarde rose to his feet, still gripping his sword. Despite the damage he'd taken, he wore a devilish smirk under his hood.

"I'm immortal, bitches."

Cassandra's expression darkened, her teeth clenched in fury.

"You dare interfere again? Kill him! Kill him now!"

The witches didn't break from their formation, but they didn't need to—he was already within their circle. Alicarde acted instantly, leaping onto the altar and grabbing Marian. His sword pressed lightly against her neck, his voice icy and controlled.

"Anyone moves, and she's dead."

Marian gasped softly. She couldn't see him through her blindfold, but she knew that cold touch and the familiar presence that stood over her.

"Mr. Reaper…"

she whispered in a trembling voice.

"Yeah, it's me,"

Alicarde replied, his tone softer for a brief moment.

Cassandra's face shifted from anger to a calculating smile, one that unsettled him. She tilted her head, taunting him.

"Go on, kill her if you want. The ritual is all but complete. The final step is her death. You can do the honors if you like."

Her mocking laughter echoed around them as her voice dripped with malicious glee.

"Go ahead. Attack, everyone! As long as Marian dies, the ritual succeeds."

Alicarde hesitated, his grip tightening on Marian. He bit his lip, his mind racing. The witches seemed to hesitate too, but one of them broke the silence, launching a glowing spell toward him. In moments, the air was filled with a barrage of spells, lights converging upon him like stars falling from the sky.

With no time to lose, Alicarde activated [Flux Field] again. He lifted Marian, jumping into the air as gravity ceased to anchor him. He looked down—the ground below was filled with spells and attacks that would've easily overwhelmed him had he stayed. Now, though, he was hovering, free from gravity's hold.

But the realization hit him like a wave. If he fell back to the ground, they'd be finished. He gritted his teeth, gripping Marian tightly. [Flux Field] allowed him to manipulate gravity, so in theory, he should be able to fly.

Yet he'd never managed it, not entirely. But tonight, he had no choice.

He took a deep breath, letting the chaos below fuel his determination. With Marian clutching onto him, he whispered to himself,

"Tonight's the night… I'm going to fly."

Below, the witches bombarded the skies with waves of magic, the sky alive with colors and deadly light. But with a strained effort, Alicarde adjusted his field, pushing himself upward, unsteady at first but gradually stabilizing. His body felt heavy, the pull of the earth fighting him, but he clenched his jaw, willing himself to move forward.

"What.. what's happening?"

Marian asked, her voice barely audible over the noise of the battle below.

"Hold on," he replied, his voice sinister but reassuring.

"I'm getting us out of here."

He forced his [Flux Field] to propel them higher, his focus narrowing on the rhythm of his powers. Below, the witches grew frantic, their chants louder, more desperate.

Cassandra's voice pierced the night.

"Don't let them escape! Bring them down!"

In response, a flurry of spells arched upward toward them. Alicarde dodged clumsily, the weight of Marian and his unstable control over [Flux Field] making every maneuver a struggle.

He could feel his energy waning; if he wasn't careful, they'd both plummet to the ground.

His mind raced, searching for a plan, some way to tip the scales. The witches' magic chased him, glowing runes forming chains that threatened to bind them in mid-air.

But he tightened his grip on Marian, and with a final push of his power, he thrust them forward, hurtling out of the witches' immediate reach.

They landed on a tree , just outside the village circle, and he quickly jumped to the next tree.