The Forsaken Hero
Chapter 447: Devastation

Chapter 447: Devastation

Luke was casting an eighth-circle spell. It was still in the early stages, the seventh circle only now emerging into view, but the sheer amount of mana it drew in made the air shimmer and distort as if we were submerged underwater. It was a breathtaking sight, both ethereal and ominous, with a growing sense of impending doom radiating from it. This was no mere protection or buff spell; this was a spell of large-scale destruction, akin to the one the Curse Demon Lord had unleashed at Western University.

And yet Grace, locked in combat with the Edrin, the air apostle, seemed entirely oblivious to the looming danger, continuing to exchange blows at an almost leisurely pace. Their exact movements were hard to discern through the swirling tempest of clouds, wind, and rain each attack generated. Occasionally, I could glimpse their silhouettes illuminated by flashes of lightning that pierced the downpour, but had no idea of either’s actual abilities.

"Well, this isn’t looking good for the Storm Hero, is it?" Gayron remarked with a chuckle. "It’s a shame. I heard she was rather strong and looked forward to fighting her. Pity"

Korra frowned, folding her arms and shifting nervously. "Why isn’t she running? She should be able to sense something like that!"

"What kind of spell is it?" I asked, unable to tear my eyes from the eight swirling magic circles. It was a thousand times more complex than Mana Storm or any of the other seventh-circle spells I was currently studying, but, honestly...it didn’t look that hard. At the very least, it was nothing compared to the intricacies and delicate design of souls or abilities, and I’d already come a long way in mastering those.

Gayron snorted. "As if I’d know, curse magic is hardly my specialty. But, knowing Luke, it’s not a normal large-scale destruction spell. He loves tacking on all the little digs and jabs of curse magic, so I doubt she’ll remain unscathed even if it doesn’t outright kill. Or who knows," he added with a shrug, "maybe it will. Luke’s been acting differently since he met you, so you never know."

"No..." Korra whispered, her voice filled with horror. "What are you doing, Grace? Get out of there!"

A sudden mana surge rippled around the battling hero and apostle, forcing them apart. I frowned, just making out the faint traces of a powerful spell’s residue beneath their feet, before Grace’s lips curled into a triumphant grin. She launched a weak bolt of mana at the apostle’s head, providing cover as she kicked off the ground, soaring several hundred feet backward. Edrin cried out in surprise as translucent green tendrils of pure life magic erupted from the earth, slicing through his wards and ensnaring his limbs.

"What? She’s here too?" Korra said, clapping her hand excitedly. "I knew there was a plan!"

"Sure you did," Gayron said, his voice low with worry. "But what are some vines supposed to–"

Another disturbance of mana pulsed across the battlefield, its touch cold and alien, unlike any magic I’d ever encountered. This power didn’t emanate from the ground; it descended from the sky, piercing the storm clouds and casting an oppressive silence over the entire battlefield. Scarcely had this presence made itself known when a colossal form breached through the rolling clouds like a ship parting the waves.

And that was precisely what it was. As absurd as it sounded, the foreign invader was, in essence, a ship. It bore no oars or sails, nor did it possess any mechanical features reminiscent of airplanes from my old world. Instead, it was a majestic vessel, crafted from shimmering white wood adorned with intricate carvings of vines and glowing runes. Its design leaned heavily on ocean-going vessels, appearing somewhat clumsy as it navigated the air, and judging by the immense plumes of mana billowing from its stern like exhaust, it must have been incredibly inefficient.

Four large protrusions jutted from the hull toward the ground, resembling modified versions of the magical siege weapons we’d encountered earlier. Their long, spindly crystal barrels locked onto the struggling apostle, mana crackling along their length and filling the air with a deep, unsettling hum.

Standing proudly atop the ship’s prow was a small, blonde-haired elf girl, her hand gripping a staff made of gnarled, twisted wood. The emerald embedded in its tip glowed a brilliant green, fueling the translucent vines that now bound the Air Apostle. It was R’lissea, the Life Hero.

Edrin writhed helplessly as the tendrils resisted his every attempt to break free. They seemed to possess some sort of magical resistance, and even his desperate, seventh-level spells failed to shatter their hold.

With a deafening roar, the siege weapons unleashed a blinding pulse of mana. The shockwaves were so powerful they caused the edges of my vision to tremble and fracture. Four streaks of pure energy slammed into the apostle, detonating in an earth-shattering explosion. The results were devastating, creating an explosion radius of over a hundred feet and throwing up thousands of tons of earth and stone in a mushroom cloud.

The combined power of the four cannons surpassed the sixth level, reaching high into the later stages of the seventh. The resulting shockwave blasted back anyone within half a mile, leveling trees, bushes, and people—scything them down like wheat before a harvester. Grace had already retreated far enough to shield herself from the blast with the seventh-level spell.

As the dust settled, Gayron let out a strangled cry, whispering in disbelief, "What the hell?"

But it wasn’t over. No sooner had the airship fired than Luke’s spell reached its crescendo. A wave of black curse energy washed over the battlefield, ignoring the demons and their demonkin allies but seeping into the souls of the surviving humans. Those below fourth level shrieked and died instantly, their bodies withering as their souls imploded under the onslaught of dark magic. Twenty thousand men and women perished in the blink of an eye.

Grace had survived the ship’s blast, but the effects of the cannons were a mere prelude to the full fury of an eighth-circle spell. Her scream echoed across the battlefield as waves of darkness enveloped her, rapidly eroding her defenses until they collapsed in on her vulnerable soul. Her skin grayed and began to decay, but ultimately, it wasn’t her physical defenses or strength that failed, but her soul. The cost of fortifying the body was often neglecting the soul, a vulnerability that curse magic ruthlessly exploited.

Individually, the curses’ effects were minor: a slight hindrance on mana regeneration, a reduction in muscle response time, and even an effect that impaired eyesight. But combined, their weight was immeasurable, and Grace paid the ultimate price. Her scream rose and fell again, cut short in a single, strangled breath, as her soul imploded, shattering under a thousand fell curses.

Korra shuddered, her face pale and her hands trembling. Her chest heaved as she remembered to breathe, her voice a mere whisper. "I... I thought you said she’d survive..."

Gayron didn’t respond; his gaze was fixed on the spot where the blinding light was only now beginning to fade around the air apostle. The demonkin let out a whimper as his ally’s limp, blackened, and twisted body became apparent. "E-Edrin?"

"By the gods," I whispered, flinching as the airship’s batteries discharged again. My heart skipped a beat as the streams of mana trailed toward Luke, my tail stiffening in fear.

Luke raised his staff and chanted quickly, casting a seventh-circle Protection spell. Rushed as it was, the shimmering shield was far from perfect, and my heart sank as he vanished within the ensuing explosion. The massive demon he rode stumbled back and fell, its blood raining from the sky.

Suddenly, a cascade of dark darts of mana surged out of the growing bubble of death, slamming into the hull of the airship. The vessel shuddered and lurched back several dozen yards, throwing a few armored knights free. Their screams dwindled as the shockwave of the cannon fire rolled over the battlefield.

I let out a small breath of relief as several more motes of darkness erupted from the dissipating light, striking and damaging the airship. When the clouds of dust and lingering mana finally cleared, they revealed Luke standing proudly atop the demon’s corpse, completely unmoved. Several magic circles spun behind him, automatically firing those dark motes of energy back at the ship. His shield was cracked and flickering, but he swiftly conjured another before it failed entirely.

The ship’s weapons began to hum again, gathering mana for another devastating strike. But before it could fire, the vision shattered, leaving us in the silent darkness of my soulspace. We remained in stunned silence for several heartbeats, the only sound the pounding of my own heart echoing in my ears.

"Xiviyah... was that...?" Korra’s voice trembled, breathless.

I slumped, suddenly feeling an overwhelming exhaustion. "Yeah," I managed, my voice a mere whisper. "It was the future. Or at least, a future."

Gayron swallowed hard. "So Edrin’s going to...to die?"

My horns felt like lead weights, dragging my head down, but I forced myself to nod. I’d shown them the vision, so I owed them at least that much honesty. "If things continue as they are, they’re going to die. Both of them."

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