Reinventing Magic: An Inventor's Tale-Chapter 59: Echoes of Despair

Gregor’s breath came in ragged gasps as he struggled to maintain his grip on reality. Shadows flickered at the edges of his vision, whispering voices creeping into his mind, each one a ghost from his past. He saw the faces of those he had slain, their eyes hollow, their mouths twisting into cruel smiles. His grip tightened around the Umbral Doomstaff as his paranoia took hold.

"No... you’re dead..." he muttered, shaking his head violently. The hallucinations did not fade. Instead, they multiplied, surrounding him in a nightmarish haze. "You can’t be here!" he roared, his voice laced with fury and fear. Images of his victims played in his mind, each one a reminder of the bloodshed he had caused.

In his madness, Gregor lashed out, casting powerful spells at the phantoms only he could see. Bolts of dark energy erupted from his staff, tearing through the battlefield, leaving craters in their wake. Each strike was wild, undirected—a desperate attempt to banish his tormentors.

Kael watched carefully, his fingers tightening around the hilts of Nightsbane and Celestial Edge. He saw his opportunity. With Gregor distracted by his own delusions, Kael moved.

Blink.

In an instant, Kael vanished, reappearing beside Gregor, his twin swords striking in a flurry of lethal precision. The Voidsteel of Nightsbane bit into Gregor’s side, while the radiant power of Celestial Edge seared through his enchanted defenses. Gregor grunted in pain, retaliating with a sweeping blow of his staff, but Kael was already gone.

Blink.

Another strike. This time, Kael’s blade cut across Gregor’s shoulder, blood spraying into the air. Again, Gregor attempted to counter, his eyes darting wildly, his mind struggling to distinguish reality from illusion.

Blink.

Kael struck again, then again, moving too fast for Gregor to keep up. His movements were relentless, each attack fueled by the knowledge that Gregor was weakening. The curse was consuming him, gnawing away at his mind and body with every spell he cast.

Amidst the chaos, Alice stirred. Buried beneath the rubble from Gregor’s earlier attack, her internal repairs had finally been completed. With a grunt, she pushed aside the debris and stood, her glowing blue eyes scanning the battlefield. Pain still coursed through her artificial body, but she ignored it. Her master needed her.

She reached out telepathically. "Master, I am operational once more. I can still fight."

Kael barely spared her a glance, his focus still locked on Gregor. "No. Focus on Keira. She needs you more than I do."

Alice hesitated, her instincts screaming at her to join the battle. She remembered the times she had fought beside Keira, the battles they had won together. So she obeyed. Turning away, she blinks towards Keira’s collapsed form. The young mage lay motionless, her breathing shallow. Alice kneeled beside her, placing a hand over her chest, analyzing her vitals.

"Beginning emergency healing protocols," she murmured, channeling mana into Keira’s broken body. Light pulsed beneath her hands as she worked to mend what she could.

Kael and Gregor continued their duel, the battlefield shaking with each clash. But with every spell Gregor cast, his mind deteriorated further. His movements became erratic, his attacks less coordinated. Then, with a final, guttural scream, the corruption took hold.

Gregor’s body convulsed, his veins bulging with dark energy. His muscles expanded grotesquely, his fingers elongating into clawed talons. His eyes, already bloodshot, turned a sickly shade of black. The transformation was complete—Gregor had become a berserker, an eldritch monstrosity powered by his own unraveling sanity.

Kael cursed under his breath. He had to end this now.

Then, a voice echoed in his mind. Alice’s voice.

"Master... Keira has stopped breathing. Initiating resuscitation protocol."

Kael froze. His blood ran cold. Memories of Keira flooded his mind—her laughter, her determination, her unwavering support. For a heartbeat, there was only silence.

Then the air itself seemed to tremble.

Kael’s mana flared wildly, an uncontrollable storm of energy radiating from his body. The battlefield darkened, the weight of his power suffocating everything around him. Stones cracked, the very ground beneath him trembling as arcs of raw mana surged through the air.

His grip on both swords loosened, and they clattered to the ground.

And then he vanished.

Before Gregor could react, Kael reappeared in front of him, his fist already swinging. A mana-infused punch crashed into Gregor’s face with earth-shattering force, sending him hurtling through the air like a ragdoll.

Blink.

Kael intercepted Gregor mid-air, striking him again before he could collide with the fortress wall, reversing his momentum and sending him flying in the opposite direction.

Blink.

Kael met him once more, this time hammering him straight into the ground. The impact cratered the battlefield, dust and debris erupting in all directions. Gregor’s staff, the cursed Umbral Doomstaff, slipped from his grasp, rolling away.

Kael stood over him, his chest rising and falling with ragged breaths. His hands clenched into fists, the raw energy surrounding him distorting the very air. His voice, laced with unfiltered rage, was barely above a whisper.

"You deserve to die a painful death."

Gregor, broken and beaten, coughed, blood staining his lips. The hallucinations were still there, the whispers still clawing at his mind. He reached for the staff, his last hope.

But Kael was faster.

Blink.

Kael’s foot came down on Gregor’s wrist, crushing it against the stone. Gregor howled in pain, his fingers twitching uselessly. Kael reached down, grabbing the Umbral Doomstaff. Dark energy crackled against his palm, but he didn’t flinch. With sheer force of will, he lifted the cursed relic high.

And then, with all the fury in his heart, he shattered it against the ground.

A wave of darkness erupted from the broken staff, the dying screams of countless souls echoing into the night. The corruption that had fueled Gregor’s descent dissipated in an instant, leaving the count gasping and his monstrous form unraveling.

Kael loomed over him, his expression devoid of mercy.

"This ends now."

But before Kael could strike the final blow, a new presence emerged. A tall figure clad in dark robes stepped onto the battlefield, their aura exuding an overwhelming pressure. The air grew cold, and even Kael felt an unfamiliar sense of dread. freewёbn૦νeɭ.com

The figure spoke, their voice smooth yet ominous. "Impressive, Kael. But you have merely played into my hand."

Kael’s eyes narrowed, his rage momentarily tempered by wariness. "Who are you?"

The figure smiled, raising a hand. A sigil of dark light formed above them, radiating an ancient power beyond anything Kael had encountered before.

"I am the one who truly orchestrated this war."

Kael’s instincts screamed danger as he lunged forward, poised to strike the hooded figure. But before his fist could meet flesh, the figure vanished into thin air like mist dispersing in the wind.

A chilling voice echoed through the battlefield, low and deliberate. "We will meet again, Kael."

Then, in the blink of an eye, Count Gregor and the mysterious figure were gone.

Kael hovered above the battlefield, taking in the silence and devastation, his eyes scanning the surroundings for any trace of the hooded enigma. He stretched his mana senses to their limit, but there was nothing—no lingering presence, no trace of magic to follow. Whoever it was, they had vanished without a trace.

Clenching his fists, Kael exhaled sharply. Gregor had escaped. But worse... there was something far more dangerous pulling the strings behind the war.

As the dust settled, the weight of reality came crashing down on him. He turned his attention to the battlefield below, where Alice was kneeling beside Keira’s motionless form. A cold dread seized his heart.

He landed beside them, his voice hoarse with desperation. "Alice... how is she?"

Alice, ever emotionless, did not look up. "I have done everything I could."

Kael dropped to his knees, his trembling hands reaching for Keira’s face. Her skin was pale, her breaths nonexistent. Her once-vibrant purple eyes—eyes that held endless curiosity, mischief, and brilliance—were now closed forever.

"No... No, no, no..." Kael’s voice broke as he shook her gently. "Keira, wake up. Please."

Silence.

His vision blurred as hot tears welled up and spilled down his cheeks. His entire body trembled, his breath shallow and erratic. The memories came rushing back, an unstoppable flood of moments they had shared:

The day they first met, when he asked her to teach him magic... The long nights spent in the library, bickering over spell theories... The laughter they shared over meals, the teasing, the camaraderie... The moments of quiet trust, when words were unnecessary... The battles fought side by side, always watching each other’s backs...

And now... she was gone.

"I’m sorry," he whispered, his voice cracking. His forehead rested against hers, his shoulders shaking. "I should have protected you. I should have been faster... stronger..."

Victor limped toward them, his face etched with grief. Pietro and the remaining soldiers of Valtieri stood in solemn silence, watching from a distance, their expressions grim. The battlefield, once filled with clashing steel and roaring magic, was now eerily quiet.

Alice, despite her emotionless demeanor, hesitated. Something within her shifted—an unfamiliar, heavy feeling that settled deep in her core. She had seen death before, countless times. And yet, seeing Keira like this... it was different. A strange sensation tugged at her chest, something she could not name.

Kael slowly lifted Keira’s lifeless body into his arms, holding her as if she were the most fragile thing in the world. He wiped the tears from his face, forcing himself to breathe, to think. There was still so much to be done. Gregor had escaped. The rift that would open in four years plus loomed closer. Time was slipping away.

With great care, he reached for the Veilbreaker Staff—the weapon that had once been Keira’s. The white and purple crystals embedded in it gleamed under the moonlight, their power undiminished even in their wielder’s absence. He closed his eyes and stored it into his infinite storage.

Then, with a final, lingering gaze at her peaceful face, he did what had to be done.

Summoning a space-time spell, he gently placed Keira’s body inside his infinite storage. She deserved a proper burial, not to be left here in this desolate ruin. He would take her home.

He stood, his grief buried beneath a new resolve. There were still Gregor’s remaining forces to deal with—his allies needed to be captured and questioned. The hooded figure had orchestrated everything, and Kael needed answers.

As he turned to the remnants of Gregor’s army, his voice was cold and unwavering. "Round them up. I want every last one of them alive."

Victor nodded and picked up his twin swords from the ground, tightening his grip despite his injuries. "We’ll make them talk."

Alice stood silently beside Kael, her usual indifference masking the strange turmoil within her.

The battle had ended, but it was far from over.

And Kael would not stop until he uncovered the truth.

[End of Volume One]

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