Multiversal Ascension-Chapter 108: An Unexpected Encounter In The Forest

A group of figures clad in black robes stood gathered beneath the canopy. Had they been at ground level, the dense foliage would have kept them hidden, but from above, their presence was unmistakable. The way they stood in a tight circular formation around a blood-drenched pentagram that was pulsating like it was alive sent a wave of unease through Mikael.

At the same time, a strange, guttural chant reached their ears, the robed figures murmuring in an unfamiliar language.

'Where have I heard this before?' Mikael wondered, a faint sense of recognition creeping up his spine.

Before he could properly assess the situation—

"Swish!"

A sudden gust of wind whipped past him as a blur of motion shot forward.

Without a word, Amelia had launched herself down the mountainside, moving with reckless speed toward the robed figures below.

"What th—?!" Mikael's eyes widened in shock, his mind struggling to catch up with her sudden action.

Then it clicked.

His expression darkened. "The Obsidian Covenant."

The realization hit him like a bolt of lightning. These were the very people responsible for the Nexoria summoning—the cause of this entire catastrophe. The ones who had doomed this world.

And Amelia had lost too much because of them.

Rage. Grief. Vengeance. They had driven her forward before she could think, before she could consider the risks.

"Tch." Mikael clicked his tongue, his body tensing.

Lyra, still catching up to the situation, gasped. "Wait—Amelia! She's going alone!"

Mikael didn't hesitate. Without another word, he surged forward, his figure vanishing in a blur as he raced after her.

His speed was far superior to Amelia's, but the few seconds of head start she had, combined with the short distance between them and the robed figures below, allowed her to close most of the gap before Mikael could catch up.

The moment she was within range, she raised her bow, her eyes burning with fury, and released an aura-charged arrow.

"Scum, die!" she declared, her voice laced with cold hatred.

The arrow shot skyward before abruptly splitting mid-air, multiplying into nearly twenty projectiles that rained down upon the Obsidian Covenant members below.

"Enemy attack!" a woman among them screamed as she caught sight of the incoming arrows, throwing herself to the ground.

The others were caught off guard by the sudden assault, they stopped their chants looking up but they reacted a moment too late. Some managed to dodge, but several were struck.

"Ahh!"

Pained screams filled the air as one of the robed figures collapsed instantly, an arrow embedded in his skull. A few others were also hit, though their wounds weren't immediately fatal. Meanwhile, those quick enough to react—like the woman who had shouted the warning—managed to evade the attack entirely.

Mikael, who had nearly caught up to Amelia before she fired, let out a quiet sigh as he took in the scene. At this point, trying to prevent the fight was pointless. Now that Amelia had initiated combat, a battle was inevitable.

Understanding this, he tightened his grip on his swords before dashing past her, determined to end the fight before the Covenant members could recover from the ambush and organize themselves.

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Amelia barely registered Mikael passing beside her. Her focus remained locked onto her enemies as she nocked another arrow, her hatred burning hotter with every shot.

Meanwhile, Mikael reached the scattered cultists, his movements seamless as he unleashed Chained Sword Style – 1st Form: Blade Tempest.

The air hummed as his twin swords, controlled by nearly invisible aura threads, whirled around him like living extensions of his will. With a flick of his fingers, they shot forward with blinding speed.

The injured cultists never stood a chance.

The first blade sliced through a man's throat before he could even cry out. Another tore into the chest of a cultist clutching his wounded leg, pinning him to the ground. Blood sprayed across the forest floor as more fell, some dead before they even understood what had happened.

But the Covenant members weren't weak.

The survivors reacted quickly. A shimmering barrier sprang up as one of the mages hastily chanted a protection spell, deflecting one of Mikael's blades. Another cultist managed to twist out of the way, dodging by a hair's breadth before drawing a curved dagger.

The fight had truly begun.

Mikael didn't let up. His blades wove through the air in an unrelenting assault, forcing the enemy into constant motion. But their numbers worked against him—if he didn't eliminate them quickly, they would overwhelm him.

"Warriors, rush him! We're sitting ducks like this!" one of the cultists barked.

At his command, four members of the Obsidian Covenant broke from the group, their auras flaring as they charged Mikael.

At the same time, spells were launched.

Flames roared toward him from one side, while jagged ice shards shot forward from the other. A streak of lightning crackled in the air, followed by a gust of cutting wind.

A coordinated attack. They weren't mindless.

Mikael's gaze sharpened.

Weightless Wind-Explosive Style.

The moment the spells neared, his body flickered out of their trajectory. The magic struck the ground where he had been, detonating in a chaotic explosion of flames, frost, and raw force. The blast sent debris flying, leaving a smoldering crater in its wake.

But Mikael was already gone.

The next moment, he reappeared behind enemy lines, his swords moving in a deadly arc to decapitate two nearby mages.

"Clank!"

Just as he was about to end them, a greatsword intercepted his strike, forcing him backward several steps from the sheer impact.

The one who blocked him had a well-built frame, his hood obscuring most of his face, but Mikael could make out the lower half—a cocky grin stretched across his lips.

"You got us good with that ambush, bastards," the man said, his voice laced with cold fury and arrogance. "But now, you'll fight me, and I guarantee I won't be like the rest of this useless lot!"

Just as the greatsword-wielding cultist finished speaking, a powerful, aura-infused arrow tore through the air, aiming straight for a mage's head. Before it could land, the shield of a nearby warrior appeared in front of him. The arrow was strong enough to pierce into the shield, but not enough to fully pass through, leaving it embedded.

"The archer is up on the mountain!" a mage shouted.

At his words, three warriors with two of them with minor injuries cause by the arrows, broke away from the group and charged toward Amelia, leaving only one warrior to guard the four mages. Of course, that was excluding the greatsword wielder, who was now locked in combat with Mikael—and he had the advantage.

"Clank!"

Mikael deflected another greatsword swing with both his swords, using the force of the attack to propel himself backward. Mid-air, he twisted his body in a smooth motion before landing.

It was the only way to handle him. The cultist completely outclassed him in strength. If he attempted to block normally, in the best-case scenario, he'd break a bone. In the worst case, he'd die on the spot.

By using both swords together to divert the attack and allowing himself to be carried by the momentum, he managed to negate most of the impact.

His gaze flickered toward the three warriors rushing at Amelia. He tensed, preparing to move toward her, but in an instant, the greatsword wielder shot forward at extreme speed, cutting off his path and swinging down at him.

Mikael was forced to abandon his maneuver—if he didn't, he'd be sliced in half.

"You're staying with me," the cultist sneered. "The guys will handle that bitch. She'll make a fine sacrifice for her offense against the followers of Nexoria." His eyes gleamed with fanaticism.

"Tsk." Mikael clicked his tongue, his mind racing for a way to help Amelia. Fighting three opponents at once was already bad for her, but as a long-range fighter, it was even worse.

Even so, he didn't let his attention stray from the greatsword wielder. He knew he had to take him down first. The man wasn't as fast as him when using Weightless Wind-Explosive Style, but he wasn't far behind either. Ignoring him and rushing to Amelia would be impossible. Speed was the only edge Mikael had in this fight. In terms of strength, endurance, and durability, the cultist was far superior.

Mikael rushed forward, and the two clashed again, exchanging blows. Even while fighting, Mikael kept an eye on his surroundings—especially Amelia. She was struggling, constantly dodging and accumulating minor injuries. She could only counterattack occasionally, but her arrows weren't doing much damage.

Then, suddenly—

A wall of water surged up, blocking a strike aimed at Amelia. At the same time, an earth spear shot toward one of the three warriors. The man noticed it and tried to evade, but he wasn't fast enough—the spear tore through his left arm, sending it flying in the air, the man let out a pained scream

From there on Lyra joined the fray causing the battle to instantly shift from a 1v3 to a 2v2.5.

Mikael felt a sense of relief and was able to focus more on his own fight. Now, he just needed to figure out how to win.

At the moment, he was at a disadvantage. So far, he had managed to evade and deflect every strike, but he knew he was dancing on the edge of death. One mistake, and it was over.

"Swish!"

The greatsword's wind pressure passed just above his head. Mikael counterattacked, slicing a shallow wound into the cultist's arm. He had aimed for a crippling blow, but the man's aura cloak was vastly superior, reducing what should have been a severe injury to a mere scratch.

Mikael smirked. Despite the danger, he found himself enjoying the fight. Even while standing at death's doorstep, he was having fun. The small grin on his face proved it.

'Am I a battle maniac?' Mikael wondered, the smirk not leaving his lips.

"YOU THINK THIS IS FUNNY?!" the cultist roared. "FUCKING SLIPPERY BASTARD—I'M GONNA GUT YOU!"

The cocky grin he had worn earlier was gone, replaced by pure rage. Mikael's 'mocking smirk' and the fact that someone he deemed weak had managed to injure him had completely shattered his arrogance and infuriated him.

His roar attracted the attention of the four mages and the nearby warrior. One of the female mages asked, "Terenei, do you need help?"

A vein bulged on the now-named Terenei's forehead as anger flared within him. The very idea that his fellow followers of the Lord thought he might need help against the 'weakling' before him was an insult. He angrily snapped, "STAY OUT OF THIS! I'LL TAKE CARE OF HIM MYSELF!"

At his outburst, the 'inactive' cultists immediately took a step back, not daring to interrupt him anymore. As for Terenei, he rushed at Mikael with speed and strength even greater than before, fueled by his rage.

"Clank!"

Mikael once again diverted the greatsword, letting it pass beside him. At that moment, he had an opening to attack, but he held back, waiting for a better opportunity to deal real damage. Instead, he stepped away, maintaining his patience.

Terenei continued his relentless assault, but Mikael evaded or deflected every strike with increasing ease. While Terenei's rage had amplified his speed and power, it had also made his attacks reckless and predictable, allowing Mikael to read his movements effortlessly.

"Are you even trying to hit me, or is this some kind of performance? Maybe you should accept the help of those robed hobos behind you, no?" Mikael inquired, his tone 'sincere'.

The obvious mockery in Mikael's words only fueled Terenei's rage further, pushing him to intensify his attacks once more.

Author Note:

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