Chapter 72: Death Of A Hero
"Vael Mael!!!!!"
Grash’s roar tore through the forest as he began spinning once more, but this time he did not stop after a single rotation. His boots dug trenches into the earth as his body turned again and again.
Wind began spiraling around his body, first as a violent current and then as a rapidly expanding vortex that tore leaves from branches and sent loose stones skipping across the ground. The longer Grash spun, the larger the vortex became, and within moments the wind had grown into a monstrous hurricane that towered above the trees. Its howling could be heard from far beyond the battlefield, while branches snapped and entire sections of vegetation were dragged toward its rotating mass.
Grash himself disappeared within the violent winds, but the azure glow of his mana remained visible through the storm, moving at its center like the eye of a growing catastrophe.
Yet directly before that hurricane, Tud’or remained standing.
His feet were firmly planted against the earth as the wind battered his body from every direction. His clothing whipped violently around him and his scales rattled beneath the pressure, but he refused to move even a step.
The flames erupting from his body bent toward the approaching hurricane, stretching away from him as though desperate to escape the overwhelming wind. Tud’or’s eyes remained fixed ahead, and despite the pressure bearing down upon him, there was no fear in his expression. Only determination. His body was already being pushed toward its limit, but he had not forgotten what was waiting behind him. His people were inside that cave.
Thud!
Tud’or stomped his foot into the earth, and the flames covering his body suddenly surged violently. The amber light flowing through his veins intensified until it almost looked as though molten fire was circulating beneath his crimson scales. His muscles tightened, his shoulders broadened and the heat radiating from him became so intense that the ground beneath his feet began darkening. He drew in a deep breath, and when he released it, a massive plume of smoke and fire erupted from his nostrils.
"Fire Magic: Fire Storm!"
The flames surrounding Tud’or exploded outward.
For one brief moment, it looked as though the entire forest had caught fire around him. Then the flames began rotating. They spiraled around his body faster and faster, feeding on the wind already raging through the battlefield until a second vortex began forming. Unlike Grash’s hurricane, this one was composed entirely of fire. It rose higher with every rotation, devouring branches and igniting trees as it expanded, until Tud’or stood at its center like the heart of a blazing inferno. The two storms rapidly grew toward one another, one formed from violent wind and the other from raging flame, and when they finally collided, the impact shook the forest.
Boom!
The shockwave tore through the surrounding vegetation, forcing trees to bend violently and sending leaves and burning fragments flying in every direction.
By then, Tong’a and Lan’ka had finally reached the entrance of the cave. Both were exhausted, but neither immediately stepped inside. They turned around and stared at the battlefield where the two monstrous storms were repeatedly crashing against one another. Every collision sent another shockwave through the forest, and each time the storms separated, they immediately surged together again as though two beasts were fighting for dominance.
Kong’gong stood at the cave entrance with his brows drawn tightly together. He could not see the battlefield from where he stood. His Deep Root Sensory allowed him to perceive things through the earth, allowing him to sense movement, disturbances and the presence of living things beneath the ground. That ability was precisely why he had chosen to dig the cave where he could protect his people from beneath the earth. But his senses did not extend freely through the air. Anything happening beyond the cave walls was outside his perception.
He was literally blind beyond these walls. That made the distant destruction all the more frustrating.
Kong’gong could feel the vibrations traveling through the earth beneath his feet, but he could not tell exactly what was happening between the two warriors. He could only feel the enormous mana fluctuations and the terrible force behind them.
Lan’ka stood beside Tong’a, his remaining hand clenched tightly. His gaze remained fixed on the distant hurricane, and even though he could barely make out the figures moving within the chaos, he knew exactly who was fighting.
"They came upon us like the night."
O’nil’s voice came from behind them.
Lan’ka immediately turned and bowed. "Chief!"
The old kobold had emerged from the cave with the support of his staff, but the sight of him made Lan’ka’s expression tighten. O’nil looked exhausted. His face appeared older than it had only hours ago, and the strain of everything happening around them seemed to have carved additional years into his already aged features.
O’nil merely waved away Lan’ka’s greeting and looked toward Tong’a. His eyes immediately landed on the wounded arm. Then they moved toward Lan’ka’s missing one.
The old chief’s expression tightened.
For several moments, O’nil said nothing. His gaze eventually returned to the distant storms, where fire and wind continued to collide with enough force to shake the forest around them.
"I pray that child overcomes this challenge." He sighed heavily.
Tong’a’s eyes remained fixed on the battlefield. His wounded arm hung uselessly beside him, blood still staining his fur, yet his voice carried an emotional certainty that surprised even Lan’ka.
"That boy has never failed. He will overcome this challenge as well!"
Kong’gong did not respond. His brows only furrowed further.
Unlike the others, he could feel something they could not. The life force of Tud’or was weakening.
It was happening rapidly.
Meanwhile, the battlefield had become an entirely different world.
Boom!
Another violent collision sent several trees flying.
Boom!
A second impact flattened an entire section of vegetation.
Boom!
The third collision caused flames to spread across the forest floor, setting several trees ablaze as the hurricane of wind ripped their branches apart and scattered burning wood through the surrounding forest.
The two storms had already grown beyond anything the warriors watching from a distance could have imagined. Grash’s wind hurricane twisted violently around Tud’or’s fiery storm, while Tud’or’s flames repeatedly pushed back against the rotating currents. Neither side could completely overwhelm the other.
Then something changed. The two hurricanes collided again and this time, they did not separate.
Wind and fire became entangled.
The fiery vortex began twisting into Grash’s hurricane while the wind fed Tud’or’s flames, causing both forces to grow more violent. The boundary between them disappeared, creating a massive rotating catastrophe composed of half raging wind and half blazing fire. Trees around the battlefield were ripped from the earth, while others caught fire and burned brightly against the darkening forest.
Lucy, Brox and Rudor had already retreated several dozen meters. Even they understood that remaining close to the battle was suicidal.
Swoosh!
Within the center of the monstrous hurricane, Grash suddenly appeared.
His boots scraped against the ground as he stabilized himself, his battle axe held firmly in one hand. His fur coat had been torn apart by the flames and wind, and several cuts covered his body, but his eyes remained sharp.
Across from him, Tud’or stepped out from the raging flames. The two warriors stood within the eye of the storm.
For a brief moment, everything became strangely quiet.
The wind still raged around them. Flames still roared through the rotating vortex. Trees continued collapsing in the distance. Yet within that small space between the two warriors, neither moved.
They simply stared at one another and Grash slowly lifted his chin.
"I am Grash the Conqueror, Chieftain of the Ashmork Village. Give me your name, warrior!"
Tud’or’s flames intensified around his palms. His knees bent slightly as he assumed his fighting stance, his eyes never leaving Grash’s.
"Tud’or, Warrior Chief of Vaal’kor."
Grash’s expression changed. A smile slowly appeared across his face.
"You are the strongest I have faced so far."
"Likewise."
Tud’or’s answer was emotionless. Grash’s smile slowly faded.
To Tud’or, he was still the enemy responsible for invading his home and slaughtering his people. No matter how much respect existed between warriors, there was no room for friendship in a situation like this.
It was unfortunate.
If they had encountered each other somewhere else, perhaps things could have been different. Two warriors who had spent their lives fighting for the survival of their people might have understood each other remarkably well.
But they had met as enemies and now only one of them would walk away from here alive.
Grash tightened his grip around his battle axe.
"Let’s end this!"
Tud’or’s flames surged.
"Agreed."
Bang!
Both men launched themselves forward at the same time.
Boom!
The ground beneath their feet exploded.
Grash’s fist came down first, and Tud’or raised his flaming forearm to intercept it. The collision sent a burst of fire and azure light through the hurricane, but Tud’or immediately twisted his body and drove his opposite fist toward Grash’s ribs.
Grash turned his torso just enough to avoid the center of the blow. The fist still grazed his side.
Bang!
The impact tore away a section of his chest and sent him stumbling sideways.
Grash retaliated immediately His swung swept horizontally and Tud’or ducked. The blade passed over his head, and Tud’or responded with a knee toward Grash’s stomach.
Grash lowered his elbow.
Bang!
The knee collided with it, but the force still pushed the goblin backward. Neither gave ground willingly.
Grash attacked again and Tud’or met him without hesitation
Booom!
Bang!
Crack!
Their roars tore through the forest. Then a roar far louder than anything before it shook the entire forest.
"RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"
Tud’or’s fist drove forward and Grash attempted to dodge but he was too slow.
The fist slammed directly into the center of his chest. For an instant, Tud’or’s fist seemed to disappear into the goblin’s body as his flesh buckled around the impact.
Grash’s eyes widened. Pain flashed across his face for the first time. Then the flames erupted.
Bang!
A massive burst of fire exploded from Tud’or’s fist and swallowed Grash’s body, blasting him backward like a cannonball. His feet left the ground instantly as he was hurled through the fiery hurricane. He smashed through burning vegetation, struck the earth, bounced once, then again, and continued rolling before finally skidding to a stop several meters away.
The hurricane collapsed.
The sudden disappearance of the competing forces allowed the surrounding forest to breathe for the first time in what felt like an eternity.
Then the flames erupted outward.
Boom!
The remaining fiery energy exploded across the battlefield, igniting several trees and spreading flames into the surrounding vegetation. Smoke climbed into the sky as a growing wildfire began consuming the forest.
Grash lay in the dirt. For several seconds, he did not move. Then his body twitched.
"Cough!"
Blood spilled from his mouth.
He rolled onto one elbow and immediately grimaced as pain tore through his chest. His Mana Body was already unraveling. The blue energy that had previously surged beneath his skin was fading, leaving behind a body covered in scorched patches and deep wounds shaped like the impact of Tud’or’s fists.
Grash planted one hand against the ground. He tried to rise but his arm trembled.
He pushed harder and his body lifted halfway before his strength failed and he dropped back down.
"Dammit."
He coughed again, blood and saliva spilling from his lips.
He had not been beaten like this in decades.
Grash stared at his trembling hand for several seconds before forcing himself to try again.
This time, he made it to one knee.
His breathing was ragged, his vision slightly blurred and his entire chest burned with every breath.
"Lumen Carn Kael."
The words came out rough and strained. A golden halo immediately formed around his body.
Warm light spread across his wounds, and the bleeding gradually slowed. The scorched flesh began closing, damaged tissue slowly repairing itself beneath the golden glow. The healing did not restore him completely, but it was enough to stabilize his condition.
Grash remained kneeling and his eyes never left Tud’or.
The Vaal’kor chief was still standing.
Tud’or’s entire body had been scorched by his own technique. His crimson scales had darkened in several places, and smoke rose from his body like he had been turned into a statue carved from charred stone. His right fist remained extended toward the spot where Grash had been struck.
He was not moving.
For several seconds, Grash wondered whether Tud’or was even alive.
Grash’s expression became complicated.
"I... I lost."
The admission came quietly.
He had come closer to death in this battle than he had in the past several decades. He had been forced backward, overwhelmed and finally driven into the ground by a warrior whose technique had nearly consumed the very body that wielded it.
Tud’or had been the greatest wall he had ever encountered and Grash had failed to climb it.
He placed his hand against the earth and forced himself upright, then he began walking.
"Tud’or..."
Grash’s voice finally drew the attention of the others.
Rudor, Lucy and Brox were already racing toward him. Brox had recovered Grash’s battle axe and carried it in both hands as he ran, while Lucy kept her bow ready and Rudor watched the surrounding forest with his crimson eyes, clearly expecting another attack.
"Chief!"
Grash ignored them. He continued walking toward Tud’or. The others slowed as they realized what he was doing. Grash stopped directly before the scorched kobold.
For a few moments, he simply stared.
Tud’or’s body was completely blackened from the technique. His flames had disappeared, and the amber glow that had once coursed through his veins was gone.
Grash’s eyes softened. Then the goblin chieftain lowered himself and bowed. Second later, slowly straightened himself.
"This colony is filled with magnificent talents." His voice was quieter now. "It’s no wonder Varg warned me of the dangers of letting them survive much longer."
His gaze moved toward the cave entrance. There was no longer hatred in his expression, just realization.
The Vaal’kor colony was not what they had expected.
It finally made sense why Rok and Boi lost to these people.
Brox finally looked toward Tud’or.
"Chief, what do we do with him?"
Grash did not even need to think.
"Leave him. The corpse of a true warrior should not be desecrated!"
Brox’s expression shifted slightly.
Grash finally turned his back on Tud’or’s corpse and stared toward the cave entrance one final time. The flames spreading through the forest reflected against his battered body as he reached out and took his battle axe from Brox.
Then he threw it over his shoulder.
"We are heading back."
Brox, Lucy and Rudor exchanged brief looks. None questioned him.
"Understood!"
The three goblins immediately followed their chieftain as he began walking away from the battlefield.
Grash did not look back.