Reinventing Magic: An Inventor's Tale-Chapter 106: Crimson Pass

The wind howled through the jagged cliffs of Crimson Pass, carrying with it the scent of damp stone and the metallic tang of anticipation. High above the canyon floor, hidden among the rocky outcrops, Duke Marveil’s forces lay in wait.

Mages crouched behind illusionary barriers, their fingers tracing silent runes in the air, ready to unleash storms of fire. Archers nocked arrows tipped with paralyzing venom, their breaths steady, their eyes locked on the narrow passage below. Boulders, enchanted to shatter upon impact, perched precariously on the cliff edges, held in place only by whispered spells.

At the far end of the pass, Pietro Silvestri stood motionless, his hand resting on the hilt of the Celestial Edge. The legendary blade hummed faintly, its celestial energy resonating with his own mana. His 100,000 troops—elite knights, hardened mercenaries, and battlemages—stood in disciplined silence behind him, their armor dulled to avoid reflection.

’This was the perfect trap.’

A scout materialized beside him, breathless. "They’re coming, Commander. The royal army marches into the pass."

Pietro nodded once. "Then let them walk into their grave."

---

The royal army advanced into the canyon, their banners fluttering in the wind. But something was off.

Their formations were loose, almost careless—units spread farther apart than standard marching order dictated. At the head of the column, General Torvin rode with deceptive ease, his scarred face unreadable. Beside him, Lucius observed the cliffs with cold, calculating eyes.

"They suspect nothing," murmured one of Marveil’s lieutenants, watching from above.

Lucius’ lips curled into a near-imperceptible smirk.

Then— he struck first.

A sharp whistle cut through the air.

The earth mages hidden among the royal supply wagons slammed their palms onto the ground. Tremor runes, planted along the canyon walls, flared to life.

But instead of collapsing onto the royal army—

The cliffs beneath Marveil’s forces shattered.

Stone cracked. The ground lurched. Archers screamed as the ledge beneath them crumbled, sending them tumbling into the abyss. Mages lost their footing, their spells misfiring in panicked bursts. Boulders meant for the king’s men now rained down upon their own.

"What in the hells—?!"

Pietro’s eyes widened. "It’s a counter-ambush!"

---

Torvin raised a fist. "Retreat! Fall back!"

His vanguard wheeled around in feigned panic, their formations breaking as they fled back the way they came.

Pietro hesitated only a second before barking an order. "After them! Don’t let them regroup!"

His knights surged forward, swords drawn—

And ran straight into Lucius’ real trap.

Royal battlemages, concealed among the retreating troops, raised their staves in unison.

"Earth and stone, rise in might, Seize the foes, deny their flight. Force of mountains, crush and bind,

Let the sky take what’s confined— Earth Force!!"

The air itself warped. Pietro’s cavalry lurched upward, their mounts screaming as they were wrenched into the sky—only to ’slam into the canyon ceiling’ with bone-shattering force.

Then came the ’hidden ballistae’, their bolts tipped with mana-disrupting venom. Illusionary camouflage fell away as the massive siege weapons unleashed a volley, skewering knights mid-air.

Pietro barely had time to react before Torvin surged through the chaos, wielding Ragnarok’s Maw—the artifact bestowed upon him by the king. The obsidian blade howled like a living storm, pulsing with crimson energy, its serrated edges vibrating so fiercely that even the air quivered in its wake

"Silvestri!" the general roared. "Face me!"

Steel met celestial energy in a thunderous detonation.

Pietro’s Celestial Edge erupted with light, its aetherium blade trailing luminous arcs as he parried Torvin’s downward cleave. The impact sent a shockwave ripping through the battlefield—stone shattered beneath their feet, fissures spiderwebbing outward like broken glass.

Torvin grinned, his scar twisting. "Still fighting for a lost cause?"

Pietro didn’t answer. He activated ’Angelic Grace’, his body becoming a silver blur. The Celestial Edge hummed as he struck—three rapid slashes aimed at Torvin’s throat, heart, and wrist. Each cut left afterimages of celestial fire in its wake.

But Torvin was no ordinary foe.

With a roar, he triggered ’Void Rend’, and Ragnarok’s Maw pulsed black. The air itself ’rotted’ where the blade passed, the ground beneath them turning to dust. Pietro’s next strike met the obsidian sword—and for a terrifying second, the Celestial Edge’s luminous edge ’flickered’, its energy destabilizing.

Torvin pressed the advantage.

A brutal knee slammed into Pietro’s ribs, cracking enchanted plate. Before he could recover, Torvin twisted Ragnarok’s Maw and drove it into the earth.

"Seismic Rupture!"

The ground exploded.

Chunks of rock erupted upward like volcanic shrapnel. Pietro barely raised ’Celestial Shield’ in time—a dome of shimmering mana deflecting the worst of the blast. But the force still sent him skidding back, boots carving trenches in the stone.

Torvin charged again, Ragnarok’s Maw raised high—

Pietro ’countered.’

"Heavenly Burst!"

The Celestial Edge’s pommel flared like a miniature sun. A concentrated beam of celestial energy lanced forward, striking Torvin square in the chest. His armor glowed white-hot, the impact hurling him backward into a ruined siege engine. Metal screamed as it crumpled around him.

For a breath, there was silence.

Then—laughter.

Torvin emerged from the wreckage, his breastplate cracked, his skin seared—but his grip on Ragnarok’s Maw never faltered. "Good," he spat. "Finally, a fight worth my time."

Pietro adjusted his stance, the Celestial Edge’s wings-shaped guard flaring brighter. "Then let’s finish it."

They clashed again— a storm of light and annihilation.

Every strike from the Celestial Edge left trails of burning aether, while Ragnarok’s Maw devoured the air itself, leaving voids in its wake. The canyon walls trembled as their duel escalated, the very earth unable to withstand the fury of their artifacts.

Pietro feinted left, then spun into a ’Aether Strike’—a vertical slash meant to bisect Torvin from shoulder to hip. Torvin barely twisted aside, but the celestial energy still carved a molten trench across his pauldron.

In retaliation, Torvin slammed his fist into the ground.

"Endbringer’s Call!"

Ragnarok’s Maw awakened.

A vortex of crimson energy erupted around Torvin, swallowing rocks, weapons, even light itself. The ground within ten paces of him turned to ash, the air screaming as it was torn apart.

Pietro ’leaped back’, Celestial Shield forming just in time—but the sheer force of the attack ’shattered’ the barrier, sending him crashing into the cliffside. Stone cracked behind him, dust raining down.

Torvin advanced, Ragnarok’s Maw raised for the killing blow—

’A horn sounded.’

The Duke’s retreat.

Pietro’s forces were in ’ruin.’

Torvin hesitated—just for a second—but it was enough.

Pietro moved.

Not to strike—but to disengage.

He wrenched himself free of the rubble, blood dripping from his temple. His armor was cracked, his breathing ragged—but his grip on the Celestial Edge never wavered.

"This isn’t over," he growled.

Torvin smirked, lowering Ragnarok’s Maw. The vortex of destruction around him faded, leaving only a wasteland of cracked earth. "No," he agreed. "It’s just beginning."

---

The Duke’s army fled toward Bryndis, their formations shattered, their dead left behind. Some nobles, seeing the tide turning, abandoned the cause entirely, slipping away under cover of night.

Lucius watched them go, his expression unreadable.

"Shall we pursue?" a captain asked.

"No," Lucius said. "Let them run to Bryndis. Let them hope."

His gaze turned south, toward the distant glow of Kael’s city.

"The real battle awaits."

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