Eternal Undying Chronicles

Alicarde clung weakly to Wrath's back, his vision blurring as the sky above turned into a cascade of glowing seals. Each rune shimmered with power, casting the battlefield in hues of gold, crimson, and azure.

The immense display of magical might left him feeling insignificant, as though he were witnessing the birth of a new world—or its end.

'What power…'

The air vibrated with energy, and Alicarde's heart pounded like a drum in his chest. Every breath felt heavier, weighed down by the sheer pressure of the spell forming above. Around him, the battlefield fell eerily silent.

The witches locked in combat against Helga and Madera ceased their skirmishes, their eyes drawn upward. Even the winds seemed to pause, as though the world itself held its breath.

In the distance, deep within the forest, Marian and Vidalia stopped mid-spell, their faces etched with awe. Their adversaries, worn from the ritual's toll, did not press the advantage. All eyes turned skyward.

The magical display was both awe-inspiring and terrifying—a symphony of raw energy that showcased the apex of magical craftsmanship. To see basic spells combined and elevated into a masterpiece was a feat none had ever dreamed possible. It was a declaration of supremacy that transcended battle, a testament to Malefica's unparalleled mastery.

Even Wrath, Alicarde's steadfast bicorn, moved cautiously now. It sensed the shift in the atmosphere, its hooves treading lightly as it navigated the forest path toward the village. Alicarde remained slumped over, his head still throbbing from the earlier strain.

He glanced around, noticing unfamiliar witches joining their trek, but none attacked. They were all mesmerized by the display of power ahead. Your journey continues at empire

Relieved, Alicarde leaned back, attempting to shake the haze from his mind.

'I don't have the strength to deal with any more fights today, not that I could even fight in such a state… it took everything to beat the trent….. I learned some new stuff but not enough to matter. he thought grimly.

His body protested as he tried to sit upright, his muscles weak and unsteady. Finally, he managed to straighten, wobbling but determined.

A shadow passed over him. He glanced up to see Marian and Vidalia hovering above, riding a makeshift broom—a broken branch still adorned with a few stubborn leaves. Marian's soot-streaked face and Vidalia's bloodied streaks told of their fierce battles, but they seemed intact for the most part.

'Good to see they're still alive…'

Below, the other witches trudged forward, their magic reserves depleted. They did not so much as glance at Marian or Vidalia, too drained to muster even a trace of hostility.

'If it wasn't for Malefica casting that spell…' Alicarde mused, watching them wearily.

'They would've finished us off. Their power is overwhelming—even with most of it expended….. the coven of the dawn just how powerful of a group are they… if a group from the mundane world is so powerful… how strong are the ones in the demiplane'

The realization weighed on him.

'I'm not strong enough yet.'

His hand instinctively rose to his temple as vertigo swept over him. His body might have been immortal, but his mind was still vulnerable. He sighed heavily, forcing himself to focus.

'I know where to begin.'

His esper ability, [Flux Field], needed mastery. The mental strain it imposed on him was unsustainable. And then there was his magic. The thought of Malefica's seamless, awe-inspiring spellwork filled him with equal parts admiration and determination. He wanted to reach her level, to wield power that could command respect—or fear.

Wrath broke his train of thought, stepping out of the forest and into the clearing. The village loomed ahead, bathed in the pale glow of moonlight. Alicarde squinted, his eyes narrowing at the scene.

There, amidst the moonlit ruins, stood Malefica, bloodied but defiant. Her crimson-streaked form wavered in the pale light, yet her presence was unmistakable—a figure of resilience.

Before her, Cassandra knelt, clutching a dagger pulsating faintly with lingering magic. The brilliant spellwork that had painted the skies moments ago had vanished, its descent halted before it could unleash devastation.

Alicarde's breath caught in his throat. The scene radiated finality, an unspoken conclusion to their battle. Spurring Wrath forward, he urged the bicorn to cover the short distance. Wrath responded without hesitation. With a shimmer of distorted space, the creature teleported them, bypassing the intervening ground in a single ripple of energy.

They reappeared mere feet from Malefica. The shift was seamless, yet the force of the teleportation left Alicarde momentarily disoriented. Shaking his head, he dismounted, his boots hitting the ground with an unsteady thud.

He stumbled forward, his heart pounding as he closed the gap between himself and Malefica.

She turned her gaze toward him, her hazel eyes faintly glowing beneath the blood and exhaustion that marked her face. Despite her battered state, she managed a faint smile, her expression softening as he drew near.

"Malefica—"

Alicarde began, but before he could say more, her body gave way. She collapsed toward him, her strength utterly spent.

Reacting instinctively, Alicarde surged forward and caught her before she hit the ground. Her weight was surprisingly light, almost fragile in his arms. Blood seeped from numerous wounds, staining his sleeves as he held her close.

Malefica's head lolled weakly against his shoulder. Her voice was faint, barely above a whisper.

"Did you... keep Marian safe?"

Alicarde tightened his grip, his jaw clenching.

"I did," he replied softly, his voice carrying both reassurance and guilt.

Her lips curved into a faint smile, though her eyes remained closed.

"Good... then I suppose this wasn't all for nothing."

Alicarde glanced around, his gaze flickering between the witches who had gathered in the distance and the dagger still clutched in Cassandra's trembling hands. The energy it emanated was fading rapidly, but its presence was unsettling nonetheless.

"You're not dying,"

Alicarde muttered, his tone firm despite the ache in his voice.

Malefica chuckled weakly, a sound that was more breath than voice.

"Such bold words... from someone who looks ready to collapse himself."