Chapter 272 - 267 — Light
As it turned out, each fortress was basically identical, making it easy to know exactly where to go. Without encountering so much as a single obstacle, they reached the base floor, descended the final flight of stairs into the basement, and came to a stop before a large door.
Jogo raised a hand, bringing them to a halt.
"This is the core room. Stay sharp."
They all nodded, their gazes turning cold. Then, after a brief pause, Jogo pushed the door open and they stepped inside.
The first thing that greeted them was darkness.
Jogo immediately frowned. A Bastion Core was a massive source of energy. No matter where it was placed, it shone like the sun. Not a shred of darkness was supposed to survive in its presence.
A moment later, Jogo sneered.
"Hmph. Maybe they’re not completely hopeless after all. Fan out. They might’ve covered the core with metal to conceal it."
The others immediately caught on and nodded. Closing the door behind them, they cautiously advanced deeper into the darkness. The only sound was the steady echo of their footsteps.
Then, without warning, light tore through the darkness, nearly blinding them.
"What—what!?"
Jogo threw an arm over his eyes. A moment later, as his vision adjusted, he slowly lowered it.
A sword had already formed in his hand, as well as in the hands of the other Sarakhel cadets. Every one of them stood on guard. Yet, it did nothing to stop the shock that spread across their faces.
The darkness had given way to a brilliantly lit room. It was empty, with no Bastion Core in sight, save for the numerous cadets now surrounding them. Clad in armor, weapons drawn, they watched with eyes as cold as ice. There wasn’t the slightest trace of the drunkenness or carelessness they had witnessed above.
Only warriors stood before them.
Regardless, a heavy gaze drew all their attention.
A tall, purple-eyed figure leaned against the wall ahead, studying them with an expressionless face. The air around him felt strangely heavy, and beneath that indifferent gaze, Jogo had never felt so small.
Jogo’s eyes widened.
"L-Lightning Prince."
His gaze swept across the room, the truth slowly sinking in.
"This... it was a trap?"
The only response he received was a ring of cold stares.
Jogo’s expression darkened. So, it had all been a trap.
His shock soon gave way to a glare directed at Zephyrion.
"...So you’ve been playing us from the very beginning."
He gritted his teeth, fury burning in his eyes. Then, as though coming to a realization, he slowly exhaled.
"Fine. That changes nothing."
He slammed a fist against his chest, the sound ringing through the room like iron striking iron. Then, he bellowed;
"Lightning Prince! I, Jogo Sarakhel, challenge you!"
He paused for a brief moment, then—
"Metal Aura!"
A formless aura erupted from him, cracking the ground beneath his feet. Then, with a swift sweep of his arm, he carved several runic words into the air. The words flared to life.
"Enhancement. Strength. Speed. Power!"
The light shot into him, and his Metal Aura erupted with even greater intensity. Behind him, the other Sarakhel cadets repeated the same incantation, and soon the air itself became suffocating beneath the weight of their power.
Jogo took a step forward, the stone beneath his foot splintering.
"We’ll crush every one of you and show the South what a true Ferran looks like!"
In response, the cadets of the southern house glanced at one another, then, after a moment of silence, burst into laughter like they’d just heard the most ridiculous thing on the planet. Tobias laughed echoed the loudest.
Jogo’s face instantly twisted as his aura flared.
"You think this is funny?"
Kaiden scoffed, taking a step forward.
"I’ll handle this clown—"
"Leave it."
Zephyrion pushed himself off the wall before calmly walking towards them. He had been waiting all day for a chance to vent. He wasn’t about to let anyone else take it from him.
Jogo smirked as Zephyrion approached.
"Hah... saves me the trouble. Get him!"
At one moment, Zephyrion appeared calm and unbothered, casually walking towards them. Then, the next, he was gone.
He appeared between Jogo and the others in a gust of wind.
"What!?"
Their heads snapped towards the center, eyes widening as they found Zephyrion standing there as though he had never moved in the first place.
"Move! Take him down!"
Weapons shot towards him.
It all happened in a blur. One moment, Zephyrion stood completely still. The next, several afterimages flashed through the group before converging back into one.
Jogo and his team froze in place, their eyes trembling. Then, a moment later, they collapsed to the floor.
Several wailed in agony, clutching shattered bones, while others clawed desperately at their throats, their windpipes crushed. Jogo was among the latter, desperately choking as he fought to draw even a single breath.
"H-how...?"
The words barely escaped his throat.
All their enchantments, fortifications, defenses... Zephyrion had simply torn through them all. And he hadn’t even utilized a shred of Metal Aura! His bones should have shattered the instant they collided.
Was he really that strong?
Only their agonized screams echoed through the room, everyone else watching in stunned silence. Kaiden, Tobias, Kaelion, Fiona, Nedra, Draven, and Kaelith all wore the same expression.
Shock.
They knew of Zephyrion’s power. After all, who didn’t? They had all witnessed it firsthand. Yet, there was simply something about watching Zephyrion fight that unnerved them. Maybe it was the absoluteness of it all. The inevitability.
None of them had doubted Jogo’s strength. Yet, Zephyrion had ended him in a flash.
A flash.
Perhaps amongst the dozens of southern cadets present, only Lumi didn’t seem the least bothered by the scene. Well... she and Zephyrion himself.
He remained entirely unfazed as he slowly approached the struggling Jogo.
"D-don’t...!"
Jogo tried to crawl backwards, but Zephyrion caught him by the neck before he could get far, lifting him effortlessly into the air.
To everyone’s surprise, rather than meeting Jogo’s eyes, Zephyrion stared at his chest instead, as though looking at something unseen.
Then, in a dismissive tone, he said;
"Pathetic."
Jogo’s chest caved inward as Zephyrion’s fist crashed into it.
...
Within the northern war room, a finger struck the table harder than usual, causing cracks to race across its surface. The sound echoed like thunder through the silent room, making several head cadets flinch.
Compared to earlier, the mood had visibly shifted. The head cadets now wore grim expressions as they stared at the now-dark monitor on the war table.
A trap.
It had all been a trap, and they had fallen right into it. Who knew the lightning prince was this cunning!?
A moment later, one of the head cadets hesitantly turned towards Malach.
"P-prime. This was... unexpected. But it changes nothing. We will still—"
"Seif."
Malach’s piercing gaze froze the head cadet in place.
"Y-yes, Prime."
"Slap yourself."
"...Pardon?"
Seif blinked, but Malach did not repeat himself. A moment later, Seif looked around, hoping he had somehow misheard, but all he found were stiff head cadets deliberately avoiding his gaze.
Realizing his situation, he clenched one fist before lightly slapping himself with the other.
"Harder."
Seif swallowed, then struck his own cheek with more force. This time, a vivid palm print bloomed across it.
"Again."
Pah!
"Again."
Pah!
This time, Malach’s voice was colder.
"Again."
Pah!
By the fifth slap, Seif’s cheek had swollen noticeably, blood now trickling from the corner of his mouth. Only then did Malach give a faint nod.
Then, in a peaceful voice, he said;
"This is war. In war, there are victories, and there are defeats. As Prime, naturally I understand that, and so should you. Next time, think before you open your mouth, Seif."
Seif immediately bowed a full ninety degrees.
"Y-yes, Prime!"
"Good. Put some ice on that. I’d hate for it to leave a mark."
Seif meekly nodded, but did not leave.
Malach let his gaze drift across the other head cadets, each of whom flinched the moment they felt his eyes on them.
Then, his attention returned to the monitor.
It was pitch black, the connection having long since been severed. Yet, in Malach’s mind, the final image remained;
The purple-eyed Zephyrion, accompanied by a single word.
Pathetic.
Malach suddenly laughed. The cheerful sound stood in stark contrast to the oppressive silence filling the war room, yet Malach didn’t seem to care.
"Amusing... How very amusing."
To think he would call him, Malach Sanct Sarakhel, pathetic. He’d never heard anything more amusing in his life.
’I thought he was a chick... but it seems he has wings after all.’
Without a doubt, he had underestimated this Lightning Prince. However, such a mistake would never happen again. Now that he had seen Zephyrion for who he truly was, he could take his sweet time plucking every last one of those wings.
Malach let out another quiet chuckle as he rose from his seat.
"Gather the army in the courtyard at dawn."
"Yes, Prime!"
Without sparing the room another glance, he turned and walked out.