Chapter 184: My Hatred II

In the heart of the grand castle, a colossal throne room stood. The walls, decorated with carvings depicting fantastical Astrothians, shimmered under the glow of hundreds of crystal chandeliers. The floor, a collection of rare stones and precious metals.

At the center of the room, upon a dais of polished obsidian, rested a throne unlike any other. Crafted from a single block of white marble, it was shaped like a lion, its mane carved in detail, each strand a work of art. The throne's back was decorated with a magnificent tapestry depicting the king's most glorious conquests.

And upon this throne sat the ruler of Verdantis, King Casimir himself, a man as fierce as a beast. His hair, a mane of raven black, cascaded down his shoulders, framing a face that was hard and weathered, etched with the lines of age. His eyes, a deep shade of blue, glittered with an icy intensity, while his lips, perpetually curled into a grim line, revealed a set of strong, square teeth. The king wore a suit of armor that was as white as the throne, its surface polished. Around his neck, he wore a necklace of gold coins, while on his fingers, he sported rings of every shape and size. As he sat upon his throne, the king surveyed the two figures below.

Lyra gave a swift bow, and Alyssia a begrudging curtsy. "Hah, daughter, you look lovely." King Casimir noted with a smile that did not fit his face. "Why do you look so unhappy? Come hug your father." His smile broke into a stupid grin.

"Old fool," Alyssia huffed, "You know exactly why I'm cross!"

"You've prepared another suitor for Princess Alyssia, yes?" Lyra cut in, not looking to witness Alyssia's squabble with her father.

"Apologies for the short notice, but it is an unexpected opportunity." King Casimir chuckled; his daughter looked annoyed at his words.

"Opportunity?" Alyssia echoed her father's words with a scoff. "Another opportunity to use me you mean, stupid father and stupid plans." She pouted, folding her arms defiantly.

The king's expression turned sheepish, a comedic look for someone so gruff. "Now, now, Alyssia, it's nothing like that. Zephyria has taken note of our plight against the constant attacks of the Astrothians and demons. They shipped a number of platoons our way as a means to start an alliance... however, they are interested in solidifying said alliance, so..."

"They proposed an arranged marriage," Lyra finished with a hum, "The prince of Zephyria is around Alyssia's age, so it was a given. They've men to spare, and that manpower we need. Even with Ser Dante on the frontline, he is but one man; he cannot be everywhere at once."

"Still..." Alyssia frowned.

King Casimir slowly rose from his throne, taking powerful strides down the staircase leading to it as he approached Alyssia, stopping in front of her. He placed his large hand gently on her shoulder and gave a smile full of warmth. "Daughter, you know I would never force you into anything. Yet please at least adhere to this selfish request from a fool of a father. Merely meet with the prince, converse, and if you do not fancy him, then merely come back. Their forces are a big help; however, our threats will be eviscerated all the same, for the mighty Ser Dante fights for us!" He declared with a hearty laugh.

Alyssia rolled her eyes at her father's word before giving a grunt, "Hmph! Whatever, I'll play this little political game. Not because you asked, merely because I am curious as to what Zephyria looks like."

"That's my girl!" And suddenly King Casimir wrapped his arms around her and lifted her from the ground with ease, a gentle yet firm hug. "You make me so proud, Alyssia!"

"Let me go, you oaf!" She squirmed, a fierce blush of embarrassment on her face, "I am not a child anymore, you know!"

Lyra chuckled at the scene, "My, it seems you two need privacy. I would not want to interrupt your family bonding."

"L-Lyra, don't you dare leave me with this fool!" Alyssia exclaimed, but Lyra had already turned on her heel and begun walking. "Hey, wait, come back here!"

"Sorry, dear princess, but I must notify Ser Dante of our departure; important matters, I'm afraid," Lyra stifled a laugh as she continued walking. King Casimir continued his bear hug of the princess with the stupidest of grins on his face.

"Lyra!"

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[Outskirts of Verdantis.]

Lyra hummed; currently, her form was suspended high in the air. Gravity seemed to have no hold over her as she levitated leisurely. The snowflakes fell gracefully around her, but she enjoyed the cold breeze and the vast white landscape. It was pure in a way, though currently that 'pure landscape' was tainted by quite the bitter sight. Her fiery red eyes watched the scene unfold with a keen interest.

The snow fell in thick, heavy flakes; she watched the Verdantis soldiers below stand in disciplined ranks, their silver armor gleaming despite the dim light. Each soldier bore the emblem of the phoenix emblazoned on their breastplates. Beside them, the Zephyria allies moved in tandem, their flowing tunics and turbans adorning them. Loose trousers allowed for agile movements, their scimitars sharp like fangs, and javelins tipped with glinting steel were ready to be hurled at the encroaching horrors.

The demons from the Abyss surged forward, a tide of twisted bodies. No two were alike; some towered as high as large boulders, their skin a molten red or abyssal black, while others were lithe and animal-like, their eyes burning with anger. Wings of bone, sinew, or shadow stretched wide. The ground seemed to repulse beneath them, corrupted by their presence, and their guttural roars resonated like a nightmare.

The Verdantis front line braced as the demons closed in. At their forefront, a knight in charge raised his sword high, its blade glowing faintly. "Hold!" he bellowed, his voice carrying over the area. Beside him, a Zephyrian warrior twirled his scimitar with expertise, the blade singing through the air.

The first demon to reach them was a hulking brute, its body encased in jagged obsidian-like armor. It swung a massive cleaver that cleaved through the air. The commanding knight stepped forward, his movements quick. He raised his shield and caught the blow, sparks flying as the enchanted metal resisted the demonic strength. The impact sent him sliding back, but he twisted, sidestepping the next swing and driving his sword into the beast's exposed flank. The demon howled, black ichor spurting onto the snow, sizzling as it melted into the frost.

The Zephyrian warrior darted in beside him, his scimitar a blur. He aimed for the demon's legs, slicing through tendons. The monster collapsed, its roar choked as another Verdantis soldier delivered a finishing thrust to its throat.

Above the fray, Verdantis sorcerers chanted in unison, their voices harmonizing. They stood in a defensive circle, their robes adorned with glyphs that glowed faintly with mana. As the demons pressed forward, the lead sorceress extended her hand, and from her palm, a blazing sphere of blue fire shot forth. The fireball arced through the sky before detonating amidst a cluster of demons. The explosion painted the snow with light, and the shockwave scattered smaller demons like leaves in a wind. Yet the sorcerers were not unopposed. From the demon horde, a winged demon with burning eyes launched itself skyward, dark tendrils of mana coiling around its claws. It streaked toward the sorcerers like a living missile.

A Zephyrian javelin hurled by a sharp-eyed warrior intercepted the demon mid-flight. The weapon pierced its wing, sending it spiraling into the snow. The sorcerers did not relent; they summoned a storm of ice shards, raining them down on the enemy lines. Each shard struck with the force of a spear, impaling demons and forcing the horde to slow.

The Abyssal forces retaliated with a barrage of their own magic. A serpentine demon coiled its body, hissing incantations in a vulgar tongue foreign. Green flames erupted from its mouth, sweeping across the ranks. Verdantis shields raised in unison, their enchanted surfaces absorbing much of the inferno, but not all escaped unscathed. Screams of agony mixed with the battle as soldiers fell.

A Zephyrian warrior dodged the flames with grace, his sandals kicking up snow as he closed the distance to the serpent. His scimitar slashed in a wide arc, its edge trailing a faint glow as he activated a glyph etched onto the blade. The enchanted steel bit deep, severing the serpent demon's head in a single stroke. The demon collapsed.

Meanwhile, an enormous four-armed demon waded into the fray, swinging massive maces in each hand. Verdantis soldiers surrounded it, their formation tightening to isolate the threat. The demon swung, crushing one soldier instantly, but the others moved as one, striking in unison. Spear tips jabbed at its joints, their tips glowing as they punctured the thick hide. A Zephyrian warrior leaped onto its back, driving his scimitar into its neck repeatedly until the beast crumpled.

The battle shifted as a demonic sorcerer, a towering figure wreathed in shadow and fire, stepped forward. It raised its clawed hand, and a massive lance of dark mana formed above it. With a roar, it hurled the lance toward the Verdantis sorcerers. The lead sorceress reacted swiftly, raising her hand and summoning a barrier of blue light. The lance struck the barrier, shattering it but dissipating its force. The impact sent her staggering, but she recovered, countering with a blinding beam of light. The demonic sorcerer snarled, conjuring a vortex of fire to absorb the attack. The two forces clashed as the battle raged on.

The demons of the Abyss, however, were just too relentless. Their twisted forms surged forward in waves, pressing hard against the faltering Verdantis and Zephyrian lines. Screams echoed through the air as soldiers fell, overwhelmed by the sheer ferocity of the onslaught. Verdantis knights, their silver armor now streaked with black ichor, struggled to maintain formation while Zephyrian warriors moved through the chaos.

Despite their numbers and skill, the tide of demons seemed endless. Hulking brutes with molten eyes shattered shields with raw force, their jagged weapons leaving deep furrows in the frozen earth. Winged fiends dove from above, snatching soldiers with taloned claws before spiraling into the snow-laden sky, leaving only anguished screams in their way. Smaller, more cunning demons scuttled through the ranks, their bodies weaving between the legs of defenders before lashing out with cruel laughter.

A Verdantis soldier bellowed orders, his voice hoarse with exertion. "Hold the line! For Verdantis!" He raised his sword high, but before he could strike, a monstrous, chitinous claw burst through his chest, lifting him off the ground as if he were no more than a ragdoll. Blood splattered across the snow in a red arc. They were losing ground much too quickly, a fact all the soldiers noted; the demons kept coming in waves while their numbers dwindled more and more.

Just when despair seemed inevitable, a sudden shift in the wind carried a presence—a dark figure that moved with an uncanny speed, his arrival marked by an almost unnatural silence amidst the chaos.

Unmoved by the chaos, Lyra smirked at the familiar figure, "Ah, there you are, Dante."

From the swirling snow, the mightiest warrior of Verdantis arrived. Dante.

He strode forward with an effortless confidence, clad in an exquisite black coat adorned with gold accents. The coat's lapels, cuffs, and front bore an elaborate gold trim, catching the light with every movement. His chest piece, a work of artistry, showcased repeating heart motifs detaily embroidered in gold over a black surface, resembling a decorative vest. Heavy black gauntlets, tipped with sharp spikes, adorned his hands; black trousers and heavy black boots with golden threads weaved into them sat on his lower body. Silver-white hair cascaded down his shoulders, flowing like liquid silk with each step. A mask-like covering obscured his face, its dark surface decorated with ornate gold designs—playing card hearts, diamonds, and geometric patterns blending together. Thin white lenses sat where his eyes were.

At his side hung a unique, straight-edged sword—its design unlike any weapon wielded by the Verdantis or Zephyrian forces. The blade was sleek, its fuller running the length of its slender form. Gold filigree traced along its surface, patterns wrapping around the hilt and crossguard.

Without a word, Dante moved.

A towering demon, its muscular form rippling with enhancement magic, charged toward him. Its maw split open, revealing rows of jagged teeth as it swung a colossal axe downward with bone-shattering force. Dante's response was almost languid; he sidestepped with grace, his coat billowing around him. As the axe met the ground, shattering ice and stone, Dante retaliated, his free arm gracefully rested behind his back.

His sword flicked forward with such speed that it seemed to vanish for an instant. A sharp, resonant ring echoed through the air. The demon froze, its eyes wide with confusion—then, with a sickening crack, its torso split cleanly in two, each half falling away in opposite directions before dissolving into black mist.

Before the fallen demons remains even hit the snow, Dante was already moving again.

Three demons lunged at him in unison—one a spined quadruped, another a winged horror, and the last a whip-thin, elongated demon with serrated claws. They attacked from all angles, their coordinated assault seemingly thought out.

But Dante's reaction was seamless. He ducked low, his gauntleted hand skimming the icy ground as he twisted his body, avoiding the first strike. His sword traced a deadly arc, severing the quadruped's legs in a single fluid motion. Before the other demon could react, he pivoted and drove his blade through the airborne demon's chest, his free hand grasping its wing and wrenching it downward, sending the creature crashing to the snow.

The whip-thin demon lashed out, its serrated claws striking toward his exposed flank. Dante, without breaking stride, intercepted the strike with his spiked gauntlet. Sparks flew as claw met steel, and with a sharp twist of his wrist, he wrenched the demon's limb aside before thrusting his blade into its throat with brutality.

In mere seconds, all three adversaries lay motionless at his feet.

The Verdantis and Zephyrian forces, previously pushed to their limits, watched in awe as Dante carved a path through the demon horde with unerring speed. Each strike of his blade was premeditated, powerful, and graceful without measure.

More demons converged upon him, their grotesque forms swarming like a hive. Dante remained undeterred. He weaved through their attacks with an ease, his sword cleaving through limbs and torsos. He parried a colossal hammer blow with the flat of his blade, using the momentum to pivot into a devastating counter, cleaving through the demon's exposed abdomen in a perfect bisecting cut.

A dozen demons charged him at once. With a flourish, Dante flicked his sword, sending a spray of dark ichor into the air before assuming a low stance. His masked gaze assessed their movements. As they attacked, he moved with unreal speed, slipping between their blows and striking with pinpoint accuracy—disarming one with a flick of his gauntlet, bisecting another with an upward arc, then vaulting over a lunging fiend to drive his sword downward into its skull.

The ground beneath him became a graveyard of monstrous corpses, black blood staining the snow in sprawling patterns.

Dante paused only for a moment, the tip of his blade resting lightly against the snow. He surveyed the battlefield, his masked face hiding his current emotion. The tide of battle had shifted instantly; the Verdantis and Zephyrian forces, emboldened by his display, rallied with newfound vigor.

Dante strode forward without hesitation, his boots crunching against the bloodstained snow. The battlefield stretched around him in a chaotic scene—the bitter wind howled through the air, carrying the metallic tang of blood and the acrid stench of demon ichor.

A colossal demon, twice the size of a man, charged Dante with earth-shaking steps, its form a fusion of muscle and jagged bone. Its eyes burned with hunger, and its twin, cleaver-like arms swung downward with devastating force. Dante's response was a deliberate shift—his left foot sliding back, weight transferring smoothly. His silver-white hair fluttered around his masked face, and his black coat billowed. With a simple gesture of his wrist, his sword rose, effortlessly intercepting the demon's strike.

The moment of impact was like a thunderclap. Sparks exploded as Dante's blade caught the demonic cleaver, but instead of straining against the monstrous force, he pivoted with expertise. His blade traced a diagonal arc downward, severing one of the demon's legs in a single, fluid motion. As the beast toppled, he drove his gauntleted fist into its exposed face—the force sending it skidding across the snow, carving a deep trench into the battlefield. Before the dust had settled, Dante turned, already reading the movements of the next wave of demons closing in.

Three more demons lunged at him in near-perfect unison—one a horror with gnashing mandibles, another a towering brute covered in glistening obsidian plates, and the last a twisted, canine-like creature wielding serrated claws. Dante's eyes locked onto them, and he moved. He stepped forward, rolling his wrist to position his sword in a reverse grip. The canine demon leapt first, but Dante anticipated its trajectory. He drove his boot into the ground, pivoted on his heel, and delivered a devastating spinning kick—his black boot flashing outward, colliding with the creature's skull and sending it spiraling through the air like a ragdoll.

The brute swung a hammer-like fist toward him. Dante's coat whipped behind him as he leaned back, the strike missing by mere inches. In the same fluid motion, he threw his sword with pinpoint accuracy. The blade became a silver streak in the air, spinning end over end before cleaving straight through the brute's chest and embedding itself deep in the creature behind it.

With his weapon gone, Dante pressed forward unfazed.

The last demon lunged, claws slashing horizontally in a wide arc. Dante, already inside its reach, ducked low and retaliated with a brutal uppercut—his gauntleted fist striking the demon's chin with enough force to send it airborne. Without missing a beat, he followed up by stepping in and delivering a powerful sidekick to its midsection, sending it hurtling through a snowbank and crashing into a cluster of its kin.

More demons descended upon him, sensing an opportunity with his sword out of hand. They surged forward, their deformed faces twisted in triumph—only for Dante to shift into a wider stance. He raised his fists. A demon lunged at him from the side, its talons swiping viciously. Dante caught the blow with his left gauntlet, twisting the creature's arm and wrenching it downward with a sickening crack. As another foe charged, he spun, delivering a devastating backfist that shattered its skull in a single strike. The force of the impact sent shockwaves through the air, shaking nearby trees and scattering loose snow in all directions.

One demon attempted to grapple him from behind, its lanky arms wrapping around his torso. Without hesitation, Dante leaned forward and kicked off the ground, lifting both of them into the air before twisting mid-flight and slamming the demon into the icy ground with crushing force.

Amidst the chaos, Dante's sword remained lodged in the fallen brute's corpse, its silver surface glinting. With a casual movement, he extended his hand outward, fingers splayed. A faint hum pulsed through the battlefield as the weapon responded to his call, tearing free from the corpse and slicing through several demons in its return flight.

Dante caught the hilt effortlessly, spinning the blade in a wide flourish before stepping forward. A leaping demon soared toward him, claws extended to rip into his flesh. Dante responded with a precise upward slash, bisecting the creature midair in an effortless movement. As its halves fell away, he dashed forward, closing the distance to a group of Verdantis soldiers struggling against a towering demon behemoth.

The colossal demon loomed over the beleaguered soldiers, its spiked tail swinging down in a deadly arc. Dante intervened in an instant. He lunged forward, intercepting the tail with his blade, severing it cleanly in a single stroke. The beast roared in agony, and Dante pressed the advantage.

He dashed between the soldiers, his movements fast. He deflected an incoming strike with a quick parry, opening the creature's side for the waiting Verdantis knight to thrust his spear. As another soldier faltered, Dante seized him by the collar and pulled him aside, simultaneously delivering a devastating front kick to an approaching demon, sending it flying backward into a jagged rock formation that shattered upon impact.

With a final sweeping strike, Dante cleaved through the behemoth's legs, bringing it crashing down where the Zephyrian warriors descended upon it, their scimitars finishing the job with brutal strikes.

Dante's relentless assault continued without pause. He moved through the hordes, and the battlefield, once a scene of near-defeat, was now shifting under his influence. The Verdantis and Zephyrian forces found renewed strength, rallying behind him as they pushed back against the encroaching darkness.

Dante moved through the thinning ranks of the Abyssal demons, his black coat rippling against the winds. Around him, the remnants of the Verdantis and Zephyrian forces could only stare in awe and disbelief, their weapons trembling in hand as they witnessed him cut down the demons brutally.

But the Abyss was not done.

From the swirling blizzard, six enormous figures emerged, each towering over Dante, their forms wreathed in intense mana that crackled through the air. These were no ordinary demons; they were officially classified as Abyssal Titans, beings of immense mana forged from the very essence of the Abyss itself. 

Each demon was unique, The Infernal Juggernaut, a massive, molten behemoth clad in dark armor, rivulets of magma seeping from its joints, its fists the size of battering rams. The Phantom Stalker, a shadowy, spectral wraith demon with elongated limbs and a face twisted into an eternal, grinning rictus, flickering in and out of visibility. The Warped Leviathan, a towering, serpent-like demon covered in barbed chains, its tentacle-like appendages writhing with hunger. The Plague Bringer, a bloated, diseased monstrosity covered in pulsating pustules that leaked toxic fumes, its bloated face split by a disgusting, toothy maw. The Doomcaster, a skeletal figure clad in tattered, otherworldly robes, dark sigils orbiting its form, its long, spindly fingers dripping with malevolent mana. The Dread Sentinel, a knight-like entity encased in bone-plated armor, wielding a jagged greatsword wreathed in blood-red flames.

The six demons encircled Dante, their monstrous forms twisting in what could only be described as an unsettling mixture of hunger and rage. They spoke no words—only guttural growls and inhuman screeches filled the air. In a blinding instant, the air exploded with mana. Each demon unleashed its might in unison. The Juggernaut slammed its colossal fists into the ground, sending shockwaves of molten lava erupting toward Dante. Doomcaster raised its skeletal arms, summoning spears of void mana that rained down like an apocalyptic storm. Phantom Stalker vanished, its ghostly claws flickering through reality, seeking Dante's blind spots. Warped Leviathan lashed out with its chains, their razor edges slicing through the air. Plague Bringer exhaled a noxious cloud that devoured the snow in its path, corroding everything it touched. Dread Sentinel advanced, bringing its flaming greatsword down in a wide arc to cleave Dante in half.

Dante, unfazed, stood at the epicenter of their combined assault. His silver-white hair fluttered as he watched the deadly attacks unfold in excruciating clarity. With a single step, he moved.

He pivoted sideways, narrowly avoiding the lava surge that erupted mere inches from his boots, the molten heat brushing against his coat without a single scorch. The void spears descended in a deadly rain, but Dante slipped through their gaps with inhuman speed, his body twisting and weaving with flawless movements. Phantom Stalker's claws raked through empty air, Dante ducking just as they phased in. The sweeping chains of Warped Leviathan lashed toward him, but he sidestepped with an elegant pirouette, the metal whistling past his ears.

Then, the noxious cloud of Plague Bringer engulfed him.

For a moment, the demons believed him consumed—only for a sudden gust of wind to part the toxic mist, revealing Dante standing tall, completely unaffected. His masked face remained emotionless as he spoke softly, his voice laced with icy disdain.

"Not strong enough."

Before the demons could react, Dante exploded into action. He dashed forward with blinding speed, his black coat trailing behind him. The Infernal Juggernaut raised its magma-dripping fist to intercept him, but Dante's movements were already several steps ahead. He leapt into the air, flipping over the massive arm, and drove his sword straight down into the beast's neck—the blade sinking through molten rock like a hot knife through butter.

With a graceful mid-air twist, he wrenched the sword free and, using the force, delivered a bone-shattering spinning kick to the demon's head. The impact cracked the Juggernaut's molten skull, sending it crashing into the ground, lifeless. As Dante landed, the Stalker phased in behind him, claws raised for a lethal strike. Without turning, Dante thrust his sword backward in a perfectly timed impalement—the Stalker's glowing eyes widened in shock as it dissolved into mist.

Chains whipped toward him, but Dante deflected them effortlessly with the flat of his blade. In a flash, he closed the distance, weaving through the thrashing appendages. With a sweeping slash, he severed the Leviathan's limbs in one clean motion, then vaulted over its collapsing form and plunged his sword through its grotesque head. With a single flick of his wrist, Dante hurled his sword straight into the bloated demon's chest. The impact was so powerful it tore through the creature entirely, pinning it to a distant jagged rock where it burst in a cloud of toxic mist.

The skeletal demon uttered a desperate incantation, summoning a barrage of dark projectiles. Dante, now unarmed, advanced fearlessly, deflecting each spell with his spiked gauntlets. Closing the gap in record time, he seized the Doomcaster's head and crushed it with a single, resounding punch, the force of the blow sending shockwaves through the battlefield. The armored titan raised its flaming greatsword high, but Dante retrieved his sword with a sharp gesture, the blade soaring back into his hand just in time to parry the downward strike. Sparks exploded as steel met steel, but Dante swiftly countered—a lightning-fast thrust pierced through the Sentinel's chest, ending it in a flash.

As the last demon crumbled to the snow, Dante stood in the center of the carnage, his blade dripping with dark blood. Around him, silence fell, the Verdantis and Zephyrian forces watching in stunned reverence.

With a single flick of his hand, Dante cleansed his sword of the blackened blood and turned his gaze toward the general area. They had won; an uproar of screams erupted from Verdantis and Zephyrian forces at the small victory. Some hugged, some cried, and some collapsed to the ground in a heap of exhaustion. His gaze was hidden by the mask; with a simple gesture of his hand, his blade vanished in a burst of gold particles.

Suddenly he heard a slow clap and the crunching of snow, "Quite the vicious display. The sight never gets old, truly. I suppose you were not called the Blood Starved Knight for no reason."

Turning on his heel, he regarded the person, "Lyra." He noted, folding his arms, "If you were not keen on helping, then for what purpose are you here?"

"You don't seem so happy to see me," Lyra felt like pouting but doubted she would look as cute as Alyssia, so she settled with a small smile, "We've known each other for quite some time now, no? Though because of that I know you don't like small talk. So how goes the war against the demons?"

"Hmph," Dante glanced around the ruined battlefield stained with black ichor, demon, Verdantis, and Zephyrian corpses. Weapons strewn about made the scene look like something out of a grotesque nightmare. "The demon forces here were the largest I've witnessed thus far. They had Abyssal Titans in their ranks as well; those are the strongest kinds of demons that can successfully pass into our world."

"Meaning this was quite the prized army," Lyra deduced, cupping her chin.

Dante nodded, "We have a small respite before they gather their bearings. Astrothians have grown more cautious as well; they hardly attack our larger fortresses. The situation is under control for the moment; however, that may change at a moment's notice."

"Then it is good timing; Princess Alyssia is set to traverse to Zephyria today. And well you know the drill." The court mage almost grinned as Dante repressed a sigh.

"No point in refusing?"

"Nope. Less you make dear little Alyssia sad and risk another lecture from the king," she chuckled.

Dante shook his head in exasperation. "I see. Well, then, before that, there is another...concerning matter. I would have sought you out, but this works as well. Can you take us to Galadriel?"

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[Galadriel]

[Outskirts]

Lyra frowned heavily at what she was seeing. She did not pay the luscious forest around her any mind, nor the warm sunlight peeking through branches or the mindless critters. Her eyes were on only what was before her. Sarcophagi, five of them, clashed with the serene atmosphere of the forest. The first sarcophagus was the largest of the five, its lid adorned with a bas-relief depicting a warrior standing before the gods. The second coffin was smaller, its sides etched with hieroglyphs that told the story of a woman's journey to the afterlife. The third sarcophagus was rectangular in shape, its lid decorated with a scene of a warrior leading his army into battle. The fourth sarcophagus was the most unusual of all, its shape resembling a celestial body. The lid of this coffin was adorned with a star chart, its surface etched with the constellations of the night sky. The fifth and last coffin was shaped like the first, its surface covered in detailed carvings of a morbid death. This one had been pushed open.

"I found them scattered around various nations; I recalled Vagnir had battled and sealed the Ancestors, yet locating them was not an easy task," Dante began. "Despite your brethren's unbiased nature, they are a danger to the current era; their agendas would not align here. I think you'll agree that keeping them sealed is the best option." He pointed to the fifth sarcophagus. "I found this one further south in Zephyria while meeting with a commander there, which Ancestor resided there?"

"Those carvings tell me it was Aelfric, the Ancestor of Wisdom. The worst of us all," Lyra bit the nail of her thumb, "He is a petty man, too caught up in his own selfishness and hubris; next to Rhiannon, he is the worst possible one."

"None of these coffins contain the Ancestor of Chaos," Dante noted.

"Well, her battle with Vagnir left both parties severely wounded; her physical body was utterly destroyed. Since the Divine Principals forbade us Ancestors from dwelling in this plane of existence with our true forms, she is left to wander as a soul." Lyra informed, "Still, with Aelfric on the loose, this does not bode well in the least."

"I see, then for now we must remain vigilant. I shall handle them."

Lyra absentmindedly nodded her head as Dante started effortlessly lifting the sarcophagus. ("Of all of them... why him?") She sighed heavily, her mind racing on just how someone was able to release him. "To break such powerful seals, who could be capable of such a thing? And why?"