Chapter 101: Blinding the Eye Part 6: Elven Rage
"Clone Magic: Mana Zone - Perfect Kamikaze," Siel intoned, as Theresa's clone began to glow a bright red. The small plant magic user struggled helplessly against its iron grip, her bones beginning to audibly creak under the pressure.
"All of you filthy humans can die," Siel said, her gaze colder than it had ever been before, and she brought her hand into a crunching fist. "This is my revenge."
Suddenly, a huge blunt force slammed into her, making the elf cough and catapulting her into a wall. Theresa's clone began to shimmer and disappear, and the plant mage struggled to her feet.
"Theresa!" Asta yelled, brandishing his Demon-Slayer Sword. "Are you ok?"
"T-thanks," Theresa breathed, still a bit shaky from the pain searing through her body.
A sound from the dust cloud that Siel's impact had made jolted them all back to reality. The elf advanced towards them, her livid expression still on her face.
"That's all you've got?" she smirked, though it was devoid of amusement. "Clone Magic: Dagger Squall!"
She threw the solitary war fan at the two mages, which multiplied into hundreds of daggers. Theresa, despite her weakened state, was ready.
"Plant Magic: Artemis Cage!" she cried, and the vines erupted protectively around her and Asta, all of the daggers embedding themselves into it.
Asta gave a primal yell, and, cutting through Theresa's defenses, rushed at Siel, who drew Yultin's Edge and met his blade in a grapple. Sparks flew where they clashed, the shockwaves rippling through the battlefield.
Siel's humourless smirk never faltered. If anything, she seemed intrigued. "This weapon of yours," she mused, eyeing the black blade with a mixture of disgust and fascination. "It has no mana, and yet it dares to oppose me?" She pressed down harder, trying to force him to his knees.
Asta bared his teeth. "Yeah? Well, it's not like you're that special either!" He twisted his blade sharply, forcing her to stagger back a step. "You just stole someone else's body!"
Siel's expression flickered. For the first time, there was something beyond condescension in her gaze.
Then the wall exploded.
A deafening crash shook the entire chamber as a monstrous, painted beast erupted through the rubble, its grotesque, shifting form rippling with eerie colour. Asta barely had time to process the arrival before a figure strolled in after it, grinning ear to ear.
"Yahoo~!" The newcomer spread his arms wide, completely ignoring the chaos he'd just caused. "Finally found you guys!"
Asta blinked. "Huh?"
Rill Boismortier - except, not Rill Boismortier. Something was off about him. His usual wide-eyed excitement was there, but it felt… wrong. His expression was too carefree, his voice too light as he scanned the battlefield.
His gaze landed on Siel and Rhya, and his face lit up.
"Oh man, it's you two! This is great!"
Asta recoiled. "What? Why are you being friendly with the enemy, Rill?"
Before he could even begin to wrap his head around it, Rill - Lira, apparently - turned his attention to him, tilting his head curiously.
"Who are you?"
The entire room went silent.
Asta twitched. "Are you KIDDING RIGHT NOW?!"
Lira blinked. Then he just laughed, rubbing the back of his head. "Well, I'm Lira! Nice to meetcha~"
Zora exhaled sharply through his nose, arms crossed as his sharp gaze flickered between the elf-possessed captain and the others. Mereoleona, standing beside him, narrowed her eyes.
"He's under a spell," she muttered, voice low and sharp.
Zora clicked his tongue. "Yeah, no kidding."
"So if Asta hits him with Anti-Magic, he'll break it?" Theresa theorised.
Asta wasn't done. "We know each other, dammit! We fought together! You're not-"
The shift in Lira's expression was instantaneous. The laughter drained from his face, his eyes darkening into something cold, something utterly detached.
"I will never be friends with a human."
Siel let out a delighted little laugh, flicking her fan open. "Now that's the spirit."
Lira lifted his paintbrush, his mana surging.
"Paint Magic: Four-Headed Lindworm!"
The air ripped apart as four monstrous, green-scaled, serpentine heads burst from his canvas, each bearing different elements in their large mouths, baring their fangs as they lunged toward their targets. Asta, Zora, Theresa, and Mereoleona exploded into motion.
Mereoleona, true to form, didn't even flinch. She dived straight into the attack, her fists wreathed in roaring flames. With a single, devastating strike, she obliterated one of the heads on impact.
Zora moved with precision, layering traps beneath their feet, while Asta swung his sword with raw, unrelenting force, carving through another of the painted beasts.
Theresa, despite the pain still lacing her body, slammed her hands together.
"Plant Magic: Kalosian Wrath!" Vines erupted from the ground, ensnaring the remaining heads, stopping them in their tracks.
Zora's gaze flickered toward Asta. "Oi, brat. Hit him with that Anti Magic of yours."
From the sidelines, Rhya chuckled, shaking his head. "That won't work."
Zora ignored him, slamming his palm to the ground. Ash coiled around both Lira and Rhya in an instant, locking them in place.
"Owwww!" Lira cried, scratching at his eyes. "That huuuurts! I can't seeeee! What the hell did ya do to me?!"
"Paralysis?" Rhya mused, gritting his teeth. "That won't work on me. I can still sense mana, y'know."
"Oh, that's fine," Zora grinned. "Because you're up against someone with none."
Asta lunged, his body surging with Anti Magic as he destroyed the last of Lira's painted creatures and charged straight for the elf-possessed captain.
His blade swung, only for Lira to barely evade him, twisting away at the last second. His brush moved in a blur. "Paint Magic: Phantom Dragon Vouivre's Shout!"
The harpy emerged from his canvas, grabbing Rill by the shoulders and pulling him out of the way.
Lira whined. "Ow! That actually hurts!" He rubbed his arm, looking thoroughly put out.
Asta and Zora exchanged confused glances. Mereoleona grit her teeth in restraint.
"Why didn't the Anti Magic work?" Theresa muttered, voicing all of their concerns.
Rhya, still restrained, smirked. "You still don't get it, do you?" His voice was almost pitying. "This body… isn't his anymore. It belongs to us now."
"Reincarnation Magic is forbidden magic," Siel added, swinging the ringed handle of her war fan around her finger. "That sword might nullify magic, but it ain't gonna do shit when it comes to the spell."
Before anyone could respond, two figures descended into the room, wings of mana unfurling behind them. Their presence was suffocating.
"Hey guys!" Lira yelled, greeting them. "It's been a while, hasn't it? So ya see, me and the copycat siblings were just about to finish these filthy humans off, but then-"
"Enough, Lira," Fragil's elf chided, her magic swirling elegantly around her. "Stop screwing around."
"Screwing around? I'm creating a bloody masterpiece!" Lira protested, before he had his ear pulled by Siel. "That hurts! That huuuurts!"
Siel greeted them with an approving nod. "Frala. Piera."
Zora clenched his jaw. "Shit." He could feel their power. More reinforcements. More problems. "We need to get out of here. Now."
Asta turned to him, eyes blazing. "We can't just leave!"
Zora shot him a look back, baring his teetg in an annoyed snarl. "We have no way to save them right now, dumbass!"
"Are you done having your little tea party?" Siel asked, raising her katana. "Because if you are… Cloned Mind Magic: Telekinetic Sweep!"
The pink arc erupted from the edge of her blade and hurtled towards Mereoleona with terrifying speed. The flame magic user was not fazed, instead clicking her tongue.
"Tch. What a pain," she muttered, her mana flaring. She raised both of her hands, one hand aimed towards the incoming attack, which she obliterated with a fireball, and one towards the wall, which she also obliterated with a fireball, creating a hole towards the outside.
With one arm, she pushed Theresa, Asta and Zora into the hole, shooting yet another fireball at the mouth of the chasm and causing debris to rain down on the mouth of the chasm.
"Lady Mereoleona!" Theresa cried, but she was cut off by her captain's yell.
"I'll take care of things here!" she said, as the final piece of debris fell, blocking her off. Siel raised an eyebrow, and began to clap slowly and sarcastically.
"Sacrificing yourself to save your comrades?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "Against a higher number of opponents? Yeah, good job on that one, Madam Royal."
The lioness rolled her shoulders, flames licking up her arms. "You misunderstand something." Her lips curled into a predatory grin. "I didn't sacrifice myself."
She cracked her knuckles. "I just don't need those brats getting in my way."
…
The battle was a blur of motion, steel, and blood. Myla barely had time to catch her breath before Avera was on her again, her movements precise, ruthless, and unrelenting. Every strike, every spell was calculated to push her back, to leave her vulnerable, to remind her just how outmatched she was.
"Come on, you're not even trying," Avera sneered, flicking her wrist. "Armament Magic: Chain Halberd!"
A massive halberd formed in her hands, but just as Myla prepared to dodge, the weapon shattered into countless bladed segments, all linked by chains. Avera whipped it forward, and the blades extended toward Myla, coiling around her like a snake before snapping shut. She barely managed to leap backward, the tip of a blade grazing her cheek, splitting the skin open.
She landed on a jagged rock, skidding to a stop. Before she could even think, another attack was already heading her way.
"Armament Magic: Righteous Javelin Barrage."
Spears of golden mana erupted into existence around Avera, hovering in midair before launching at breakneck speed. Myla moved on instinct, twisting her body, rolling, ducking, dodging - still, they cut into her, slicing her side, her shoulder, her thigh. She hissed, stumbling slightly as the pain flared, hot and sharp.
From the side, Orist chuckled, lounging lazily against the ruined remains of a collapsed pillar. He hadn't moved once, hadn't even dirtied his hands.
"This is what I mean," he said, voice dripping with disdain. "You humans fight like beasts. Flailing, scrambling, clinging onto a pathetic hope that you can win against the inevitable." He sighed, shaking his head. "You ruined everything. My home. My tribe. My life." His jaw clenched, his fingers twitching. "Do you even realise what you took from me?"
Myla gritted her teeth. "Do you ever shut up?"
Orist's grin widened. "Let's see how much more you can handle."
With a lazy flick of his wrist, another deep blue spatial ball swirled into existence.
"Spatial Magic: Wraith's Madness."
The distortion swelled and crackled before tearing forward like a cannonball. Myla dodged left, but it veered, curving unnaturally, too fast, too sharp, before smashing straight through her side.
She barely had time to scream.
Orist's mouth turned upwards in a sadistic, unfeeling grin that looked out of place on Myla's usually jovial nephew, as Myla coughed blood, staggering back as she grasped at her side and instead drew a fistful of nothing.
Avera wasn't done, however. "Armament Magic: Gently Weeping Scythe!"
A massive scythe pulsating with mana appeared, hovering in front of her as the elf snatched it out of the air and walked menacingly towards Myla, dragging the scythe across the ground, malice erupting out of her.
"This is the woman who told me to stop playing with my food," Orist muttered, though he didn't exactly hate his fellow elf's gesture.
With breakneck speed and staff in hand, Myla lunged at Avera, ready to deliver a crushing blow to the side of her head, but a dark blue portal opened beneath her. Myla's staff whistled through the air harmlessly.
"You're wide open."
Avera stood behind her, ruthlessness in her eyes as she brought the scythe down onto Myla's back. With an almost superhuman feat of agility, Myla, reinforcing her staff with Mana Coating, blocked the tip from piercing her, the shockwave sending ripples throughout the air.
She was now stuck in quite an uncomfortable clash with Avera, as the elf pressed her height advantage, aiming to drive the wood warrior into the ground. Myla's muscles bulged as she grit her teeth, the pain starting to throb now.
She pushed Avera away from her with an almighty push, the elf leaping back to increase the distance.
Myla hurled her staff at Avera, but the elf slashed it in half with her scythe. Little did she know, this was exactly what Myla hoped would happen, and the wood mage spread her hands out wide.
Thick branches grew from the two halves of Myla's staff, binding the elf in a makeshift cage tightly. Immediately, Myla rushed towards her, ready to deliver a crushing blow to her gut.
"Armament Magic: Valkyrie Shock Armour," Avera intoned coolly, as the armour grew around her like a living thing in the blink of an eye, and Myla's fist connected with metal.
The impact should have broken something. Avera had felt the force behind Myla's charge, the sheer, unrelenting will in every fiber of her being, and yet-
Nothing.
The wood mage barely staggered, fist still pressed against Avera's plated chest, her knuckles burning from the contact. The armor had formed in time, but it hadn't absorbed the force completely. Avera gritted her teeth, a flicker of unease flashing across her sharp features.
This woman… wasn't normal.
Before Myla could swing again, another portal roared open beside her, the warped space crackling with unstable magic. She knew what was coming.
"Spatial X Armament Combination Magic: Wraith's Forge."
Orist's voice dripped with amusement, but there was steel beneath it - he knew brute force alone wouldn't stop her. The deep blue rift fractured outward, and from its depths, weapons began to pour out.
Not just weapons - spectral echoes of them. Ethereal blades, spears, axes, warhammers, all dark as twilight and glistening with a sickly, ghostly sheen, surged toward Myla in a storm of steel and malice. They howled through the air, cutting, slashing, aiming to tear her down piece by piece.
For a moment, it seemed like no one could survive that.
Then…
Crack.
One sword shattered on impact. Then another. Then another.
The onslaught didn't stop Myla. If anything, it made her faster.
She tore through the spectral barrage like a hurricane through brittle trees, her hands wreathed in mana, her very presence a declaration of defiance. The weapons couldn't pierce her skin, couldn't find purchase, couldn't even slow her down.
Avera's eyes narrowed. That's impossible.
Orist, from his perch near the ruined pillar, clicked his tongue in irritation. "That spell alone should've cut down a battalion. You're telling me she just - walked through it?"
"You really thought something like that would work?" Myla scoffed, rolling her shoulders as if she hadn't just torn through a tidal wave of spectral weaponry. Blood still dripped from earlier wounds, but she paid them no mind. Her voice dropped into something low, dangerous.
"No matter what it takes, no matter how long I have to fight, my nephew is coming home with me."
Avera inhaled sharply, feeling the shift in the air. That wasn't just resolve- it was a promise.
Orist let out a slow exhale, a smirk curling his lips. "You say that, but do you have any qualms about beating the elf soul out of him?"
Myla didn't even hesitate. "I beat him up all the time anyway."
Avera's grip on her scythe tightened. The words were meant as a joke, but there was something in Myla's tone that rattled her. A sort of certainty, a complete disregard for the impossibility of the task.
Avera knew that mindset.
It was the kind of resolve that made someone impossible to kill.
A familiar, wicked heat started curling in Avera's chest. She clenched her jaw, but she could feel it, the hunger, the part of her that always awakened in the midst of a true fight.
It had been too long since someone had pushed her like this.
She exhaled slowly, a cold, shuddering breath escaping her lips.
This woman might actually kill me.
And worst of all-
I think I might enjoy this. With a disgusting human.
"Armament Magic: Gauntlets of the Eternal Dusk!"
…
The world twisted and unfurled around Lilian, its colors bleeding into a strange, dreamlike haze. Her feet no longer touched solid ground, per se - there was no solid ground. Everything was shifting, ephemeral, bending at the whim of something far beyond her control.
Glamour World.
Lilian barely had time to react before something enormous rushed at her from the kaleidoscopic void. A winged serpent, its body a flowing canvas of soft pastel pinks and blues, coiled through the air with unnatural grace. Its eyes, shimmering pools of infinite color, locked onto her, and then it struck.
Lilian raised Blade of Gabriel just in time, its golden edge slicing across the serpent's snout, sending it reeling back with a soundless, rippling cry. She surged forward, desperate, light exploding from her body in fractals of brilliance.
"Prism Magic: Prismatic Flare!"
A whirlwind of jagged light cascaded outward, aiming to shred through the illusion. But as soon as her magic reached the serpent, its form unraveled, dissolving into drifting motes of color that merged seamlessly into the world around her.
And then, Reve was there.
She stood amidst the storm of color, untouched, her gaze unreadable as the remnants of Lilian's attack swirled around her like falling petals. Her hands remained folded behind her back, her posture one of effortless calm, as though she were simply watching a show unfold rather than engaging in battle.
"Human filth." Her voice was impossibly soft, barely a ripple in the distorted dreamscape. "You don't understand where you are, do you?"
"I understand that you're out of your damn mind!" Lilian snapped, light bursting from her once more. "Prism Magic: Spectral Chains!"
Golden chains erupted from every direction, snaking toward Reve in a web of unbreakable force. There was no escape, no angle to slip through.
And yet, before they could reach her, the world warped.
A massive hammer, adorned with glittering jewels and blooming flowers, materialized above Lilian in an instant. With a single thought from Reve, it barreled downward with impossible force.
Lilian barely threw herself aside in time, the sheer weight of the illusionary weapon cracking the space beneath her. She skidded back, her breath ragged, her mind racing to keep up.
It wasn't just Reve she was fighting. It was the entire world.
"Violence is unnecessary," Reve sighed, watching her from a few paces away, her presence like a ghost flitting through the battlefield. "It stains, it taints, it ruins everything it touches. There are better ways to end a battle, wouldn't you agree?"
Lilian grit her teeth. "Forget that, just give me back my captain!"
She lunged forward again, Blade of Gabriel arcing toward Reve's chest. But just as her strike should have connected, the captain blinked out of existence - no, not blinked. Melted, like ink dissolving in water.
Before Lilian could react, waves of boiling tea surged up from beneath her. The scalding liquid crashed over her body, sending sharp, searing pain through every nerve. She gritted her teeth against the scream clawing up her throat, forcing her body to move, to keep fighting, even as agony wracked her limbs.
Reve's voice echoed all around her. "This is why you cannot win."
Lilian willed herself to stand, her vision swimming. Her magic flared around her in violent bursts, raw and unfocused, fueled by sheer will.
"Prism Magic: Luminous Arc!"
A brilliant crescent of light cut through the waves, parting them just long enough for her to propel herself forward.
But the moment she reached Reve, something else erupted from the void.
A thousand shimmering threads wove through the air, forming a tapestry of illusions - hands that grasped, voices that murmured lullabies in languages she didn't understand, visions of people she'd never met, yet felt familiar. They wrapped around her mind, pulling her downward, deeper, deeper-
Her thoughts grew sluggish.
Her limbs wouldn't move.
The Blade of Gabriel slipped from her fingers.
"Wait…"
She tried to fight it. She tried to force herself awake, to resist, but it was like sinking into warm, endless silk. A quiet, soothing lull that whispered promises of rest, of peace.
It would be so easy to let go.
To stop struggling.
To sleep.
Her eyes flickered, her strength bleeding out of her as the Glamour World pulled her under.
Reve caught her before she could fall, lowering her gently onto the shifting ground.
"Sleep," she murmured, her hand brushing lightly over the prism mage's forehead. "This is better. No pain, no loss, no need for battle. A world where nothing can harm you."
Lilian's breath hitched, her consciousness slipping further.
The last thing she saw before the world faded was Reve's cold yet mournful expression.
A/N: I'm finally back! and with my return i bear a new chapter
make sure to join the discord if you guys wish to see some of your ideas added into the story - link [ /gGkEZ9cK]
1st thing - this arc is going to be quite flashback-heavy in terms of the content. stuff like the elves lives before the massacre, myla and mereoleona's first meeting, stuff like that
2nd thing - i'm working on cross posting the story to ao3 - which will take longer than usual since i have so many tests that i absolutely cannot fail
3rd thing - consequently, there will be next to no updates next week. mabe one or two. i'm sorry to everyone who reads regularly but i can't let this fic take over my life (in a bad way)