Chapter 446: He Was In The Way

The air inside the Verdant Verge was unnaturally still.

Mist clung to the blackened trees like breath frozen mid-exhale. The ground, littered with carcasses of mana beasts, steamed faintly from where their blood soaked into the ancient stone surrounding the Gate.

General Ivaan stood in the middle of it all—coat torn, eyes gleaming with something far more dangerous than determination.

He didn’t look like a commander now.

He looked like a man possessed.

Blood smeared his hands up to the elbows, and his voice was a low murmur, rhythmic, guttural—each syllable echoing faintly against the inner layers of the sealed gate before him.

The gate’s surface shimmered like obsidian water, carved with symbols that pulsed between gold and crimson as if uncertain which it preferred.

“Tahl iren vas’ruk… seln ah’thor…”

“By essence bound, by blood undone…”

He stepped over a slain beast, dipping his fingers into its spilled essence and dragging the red-black streaks across the stone.

Dozens of runes bloomed beneath his touch, circling the gate like veins. Each symbol vibrated when his essence flared—brief flashes of light before dimming again.

Still, the gate did not open.

Ivaan’s brow twitched. His breathing grew rougher, more labored. “Why…” He clenched his fist. “Why won’t you answer?”

He pressed his palm against the cold stone. A shock ran through his arm, enough to make his teeth grit. He could feel the force behind the seal. It felt old, too old.

He smiled faintly. “Good. That means you’re still in there.”

The runes began to dim again. His essence was running out. The Gate drank it greedily, but it wasn’t satisfied. No—it wanted more.

And so, Ivaan gave it more.

He tore his blade from his belt and drove it straight into the carcass of a Grade Four beast at his feet.

Schweeeelp!

The creature’s thick hide split open with a wet sound. He plunged his hand inside, feeling around until his fingers brushed something hot and solid—its essence core. He ripped it free.

Then another.

And another.

Each time, he moved faster. Precise. Efficient. No hesitation, no care for blood or stench. In minutes, the ground was a graveyard of hollowed corpses and dimmed cores—fifty in total—arranged carefully along the runic ring. Each one glowed faintly, humming in resonance with the seal’s dormant pulse.

He placed his hands together, exhaling softly.

“Sythra vel’or. By blood and beast, by hand of will—awaken.”

The air roared to life.

Wooooohhh…

The runes ignited in crimson light, the mana cores cracking one by one as their essence poured into the ground. The gate shuddered. Veins of gold shot up its surface, spider-webbing toward the center where an ancient sigil, long dormant, began to flare awake.

Ivaan’s coat whipped violently around him. His teeth clenched as the essence tore through him—his own mana fusing with the energy of dozens of beasts. He could feel the strain in his veins, the tearing of limits he’d built through decades of discipline.

But still it wasn’t enough.

He fell to one knee, panting hard, his vision blurring at the edges. “Damn it… Damn it!” His hand struck the stone. “If I must offer more—then take it!”

And then, something deep inside his essence core shifted.

A low vibration rippled through the air, followed by a sudden burst of black flame crawling up his arm. Ivaan looked down, his eyes widening—not in fear, but in grim satisfaction. “So it still lives in me…”

He closed his eyes, drew a deep breath, and released the limiter he had kept sealed for a while.

The change was immediate.

Bwooooom!

Dark and dense essence burst out from his chest in a spiral of shadow. It rose into the sky, tearing through the forest canopy like a spear of night. The earth cracked beneath him. The runes, once red, turned black as the blood around them curdled and hissed.

The Verdant Verge trembled as if the world itself flinched from the release.

At that exact moment, Damien froze.

He was halfway through the fortress corridors, arguing with Apnoch, when the surge hit him. It wasn’t subtle—no, this was an eruption, a dark column of mana so potent it rippled through the air like a physical blow.

The glass windows rattled.

Damien’s expression changed from confusion to grim certainty in an instant. His heart sank into ice.

“…That aura.”

Apnoch frowned. “What is it? What’s happening?”

Damien turned toward the distant forest visible through the arched window. The column of dark energy was faintly visible now, piercing the clouds, its color wrong in every possible way.

“I know that essence,” he whispered. “I felt it yesterday—at the Gate.”

Apnoch’s jaw tightened. “Then whoever did this—”

“—was already there,” Damien finished coldly.

He took two steps forward, his cloak snapping behind him. Then something else clicked—something sharp and ugly in his mind. He turned sharply toward Apnoch.

“The blood trail from the northern gate,” Damien said quietly. “You remember what I told you? That someone dragged Veyne into the forest and came back alone?”

Apnoch hesitated. “You think the killer was—?”

Damien’s voice was flat. “General Ivaan.”

Apnoch blinked, stunned. “That’s impossible. He—he’s the one who sent us to investigate—!”

“Yes,” Damien said, his tone darkening. “Because he was using us cover his own tracks.”

The memory of the boy’s corpse near the gate flashed before Damien’s eyes—the mother’s scream, Ivaan’s calm hand on his shoulder. Every piece of the puzzle aligned now with sickening precision.

“He killed Veyne because Veyne saw the truth,” Damien continued, voice dropping to a growl. “And now he’s at the Gate, trying to open it.”

Ivaan stood within a cyclone of power.

The gate’s sigils glowed like suns now, fed by his released essence. The darkness around him twisted, reshaping into strands of living mana that wove through the air like serpents. His veins burned black. The whites of his eyes had turned a dull, glowing red.

“Yes…” he whispered hoarsely. “Yes, that’s it… awaken for me…”

The runes pulsed. A crack appeared at the center of the Gate—hairline thin, but spreading with each thrum of power. It released a sound, low and resonant, that wasn’t quite a growl nor a sigh but something between—like something inside was listening.

Ivaan smiled. “You hear me, don’t you?”

He raised his hands again. The black essence surged.

“Break your chains and answer me!”

Bwoooooooom!!

The forest exploded in light and sound as another shockwave tore through the ground. The beasts that had remained nearby disintegrated into motes of mana. Trees uprooted. The runes along the gate blazed so brightly the air rippled with heat.

Then, abruptly—silence.

The column of energy flickered and died.

Ivaan fell to his knees, gasping, his vision spinning. The crack had widened slightly, faint wisps of pale light leaking out like smoke. But the Gate still held. Still sealed.

He let out a broken laugh, half-mad, half-exhausted. “So… you want more, do you?”

He looked at his trembling hands, at the faint shadow still coiling around them. “Then you’ll have it.”

~~~~~

Apnoch stood frozen, watching Damien’s expression shift from fury to cold purpose.

“Damien,” he said carefully, “if this is true—if the general’s turned—what do we do?”

Damien’s eyes burned like coals. “What I should’ve done the moment I sensed something wrong.”

He started toward the exit, but Apnoch caught his arm. “You can’t just storm after him alone—!”

“I don’t have time for orders anymore, Apnoch,” Damien snapped. “He’s already breaking the seals. If he succeeds, none of us are walking away from this alive.”

Apnoch hesitated. “Then at least let me—”

Damien’s glare stopped him. “No. Stay here. Lock down Delwig. If I’m wrong, you can hang me later. But if I’m right…”

He looked toward the forest again, the faint residue of dark mana staining the sky.

“…then pray I get there before he finishes.”

“Cancel Aquila’s summon and summon Skylar.” It was a mental command he didn’t need to utter.

He turned sharply, summoning Skylar in a surge of dark flame that sent nearby guards stumbling back. The wyvern’s wings tore through the courtyard air, scattering dust and loose stones. Damien mounted in one motion, eyes already set toward the glowing horizon.

“Damien!” Apnoch shouted, shielding his face from the gust. “If you’re right—what’s in that Gate?”

Damien didn’t answer.

Because deep down, he didn’t know. Or rather, he didn’t want to believe he knew.

Skylar’s wings beat once, and they were gone—nothing but a streak of shadow cutting across the light of dawn.

The forest was in ruins.

Mana fog rolled across the shattered trees. The ground glowed faintly from overcharged runes still bleeding essence into the soil. Ivaan stood motionless before the gate, his breath ragged, his expression somewhere between awe and terror.

A voice—not from outside, but from within the Gate—whispered.

“You have done well.”

Ivaan froze. His eyes darted to the crack in the gate. It pulsed faintly, like something breathing behind it.

“More… essence…”

He fell to his knees, smiling despite himself. “Yes… yes, I can give you that. Just—just open. Show me. Show me what lies beyond.”

He reached for another mana core—but then paused, his instincts flaring.

A shadow had just fallen across the clearing.

He turned slowly—and froze as a massive wyvern landed behind him, its wings folding in with a hiss of steam. Standing atop its back was Damien, cloak billowing, eyes lit with fury so raw it could devour him if allowed.

Ivaan’s expression twisted—regret, recognition, and amusement blending into one.

“So you came,” he said softly. “I was wondering when you’d see.”

Damien stepped off Skylar, his boots cracking burnt soil. “You killed Veyne.”

Ivaan didn’t deny it. “He was in the way.”

“And you’re about to be, too,” Damien said coldly.

The two men stared at each other across the broken clearing—the commander and the mercenary, teacher and weapon—while the Gate pulsed faintly behind them, a heartbeat in the dark.

Somewhere beneath them, something laughed.

And the earth trembled again.

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