Chapter 486: Ice Wraiths

Damien did not look back at the village as he made his way toward his actual destination.

He never did.

Once the smoke of cooking fires faded into the distance and the plains stretched empty before him again, the world returned to what it had always been—wide, hostile, and indifferent.

The villagers would live. That was enough. Heroes would’ve stayed. Travelers would’ve moved on.

He was the latter in a sense but he was so an adventurer who couldn’t afford to be tied down to this village. Not even Delwig could keep him tied after all.

Damien was very much still traveling and he intended to keep it that way until the very end. The end where he put a perms stop to the existence of demons.

Fenrir strolled beside him as it always loved to, steady and silent, white fur marked with faint stains that had not yet faded.

Luton sat comfortably on Damien’s head like the crown that it was, its surface rippling lazily as it digested what it had taken the night before. The land here grew harsher by the mile—grass thinning, soil hardening, the wind carrying a colder edge.

Damien walked for hours.

He didn’t hurry.

Strength was not built by rushing blindly forward. It was built by enduring distance, by allowing the body and mind to settle into motion until effort became natural. His breathing evened out. His steps became rhythmic.

Eventually, he stopped.

Fenrir halted immediately, looking up at him.

“You’ve eaten enough for now,” Damien said calmly. “Rest.”

Fenrir let out a low sound—something between protest and acceptance—before dissolving back into essence, returning to Damien’s core. The drain eased instantly.

Luton remained.

“You stay,” Damien added. “You’ll need it.”

The slime pulsed in agreement.

Damien raised his gaze to the sky. “Summon Aquila.”

The air shifted almost immediately as the all too familiar blue portal spawned from thin air and Damien mounted his summon.

A moment later, Damien was airborne. Traveling by air changed everything.

From above, the land lost its illusions of safety. Rivers cut scars through the earth. Forests appeared as dark, tangled masses hiding countless threats beneath their canopies.

Roads were thin, fragile lines that could vanish with a single landslide or monster migration.

Damien watched it all pass beneath him.

Hours slipped by.

The plains gradually gave way to jagged terrain—rockier ground, patches of frost clinging stubbornly to shaded areas even though the sun still hung high. The wind grew sharper, biting through his cloak.

Then Aquila slowed.

Ahead, the land split open.

A ravine carved deep into the earth stretched across the horizon, its depths filled with mist and drifting frost. Jagged ice formations clung to the cliff walls like frozen fangs. The air above it shimmered faintly with unstable mana.

Damien narrowed his eyes.

“Icy mana,” he murmured. “But… tainted with demonic essence. Is there even anything that isn’t tainted with demonic essence?”

Aquila circled once.

Below, movement stirred.

They rose from the ravine like phantoms.

Tall, semi-transparent figures shaped vaguely like humanoids, their forms composed of swirling frost and condensed mana. Their movements were silent, gliding rather than walking, leaving trails of ice crystals in the air.

Ice Wraiths.

Normally passive mana beasts. Territorial, but not aggressive unless provoked.

These ones turned their heads toward him in unison.

Red fissures pulsed faintly within their icy cores.

Demonic essence.

Damien exhaled slowly. “So that’s how far it’s spread.”

The first wraith shrieked, a sound like cracking glaciers, and surged upward, dragging shards of ice along with it. Others followed, dozens rising from the ravine walls, their presence turning the air painfully cold.

Damien dropped from Aquila midair.

He landed hard on the ravine’s edge, boots skidding slightly on frost-coated stone.

“Aquila, keep moving,” he said. “Circle.”

The wraiths attacked.

The temperature plummeted instantly.

A spear of ice formed and launched toward Damien’s chest. He twisted aside, letting it graze his shoulder. Frost crawled across his cloak where it touched, biting into fabric and skin alike.

He responded with a sharp strike, dispersing the nearest wraith in a burst of shattered ice.

It reformed almost immediately.

“Tch.”

Luton surged forward, wrapping around the wraith’s core. The demonic essence reacted violently, hissing as it was consumed. The wraith collapsed completely this time, its mana dissipating as Luton absorbed what it could.

The others reacted.

Ice spread across the ravine floor in violent waves. The ground cracked, jagged spikes erupting upward in an attempt to impale him. Damien leapt from one outcropping to another, narrowly avoiding being frozen in place.

A wraith passed through him.

Pain flared.

Not physical—something deeper. Cold gnawed at his mana, slowing its circulation, numbing his limbs.

He gritted his teeth and retaliated, unleashing a burst of force that tore the wraith apart.

“Corrupted or not,” Damien muttered, “you’re still ice.”

The battle intensified.

Ice storms formed around him, swirling violently, cutting visibility down to mere meters. Wraiths attacked from all directions, reforming again and again unless their cores were completely consumed.

Luton worked tirelessly, devouring corrupted essence faster than Damien could dismantle bodies. Its surface glowed brighter with each wraith absorbed, movements growing quicker, more confident.

But there were too many.

Damien felt the strain creeping in—not exhaustion, but inefficiency. This was taking longer than it should.

His gaze hardened.

“So be it.”

He leapt backward, creating distance.

The wraiths paused, sensing a shift and were a little too cautious to go after him.

Damien placed a hand over his core. “Summon Cerbe.”

The air screamed and a portal opened up.

Heat exploded outward as a presence far heavier than the frozen battlefield forced its way into reality. The temperature didn’t rise gradually—it snapped, frost evaporating instantly, ice cracking violently across the ravine.

Cerbe emerged.

The ice wraiths shrieked in unison.

Hell’s Flame roared to life.

A wave of searing fire tore through the ravine, swallowing wraiths whole. Ice shattered violently, steam exploding outward as frozen mana was annihilated faster than it could reform.

Cerbe laughed, a deep, savage sound, and unleashed another torrent.

Where the flames passed, nothing remained.

Damien stood at the center of it all, cloak whipping violently in the heat-driven winds. The contrast was absolute—fire against ice, annihilation against corruption.

Luton followed behind the inferno, devouring remnants of demonic essence before they could dissipate. Each absorption made it pulse brighter, denser.

The wraiths tried to flee.

They couldn’t.

Cerbe hunted them down with gleeful brutality, flames chasing them into crevices, vaporizing them mid-flight, turning the ravine into a battlefield of steam and molten stone.

Within minutes, it was over.

Silence returned.

The ravine no longer froze.

What remained was scorched rock, melted ice, and faint traces of mana drifting harmlessly into the air.

Damien exhaled slowly.

“Enough,” he said.

Cerbe snorted, clearly displeased, but dissolved back into essence without protest.

Luton returned to Damien’s side, surface glowing faintly, movements more fluid than before.

Damien glanced at it. “You’re growing fast.”

The slime pulsed proudly.

He looked back at the ravine. Ice wraiths corrupted by demonic residue.

This wasn’t random. It was spread because even though their names soinded evil, I’ve Wraiths weren’t supposed to have traces of demonic essence in them.

Control and experimentation.

Damien clenched his fist.

“So it’s already reached the farlands,” he muttered. “And I’m still not even close.”

He turned and summoned Aquila again, mounting swiftly.

As they rose into the sky once more, Damien cast one last glance down at the ravine.

Fire and ice had clashed here.

Next time, it might be something worse.

The journey continued.

And Damien intended to be ready for whatever waited at the end of it.

~~~~~

Damien sat a short distance away, back against a fallen log, cloak loosened, boots stretched toward the warmth. The land here was quiet—too quiet, but not in the way Delwig had been.

This was the honest silence of wilderness, broken only by the wind brushing over tall grass and the faint chirp of insects settling into dusk.

Aquila had been dismissed hours ago. Fenrir was gone as well.

Only Luton remained, resting like a lazy mass atop Damien’s shoulder, its surface gently bubbling as it digested the last remnants of demonic essence from earlier battles. The slime was heavier now—denser. Stronger.

Damien rolled a small stone between his fingers, eyes half-lidded as he watched the treeline.

He hadn’t caught the rabbit yet.

That alone was enough to irritate him.

“I know you’re there,” he said quietly.

The forest did not answer.

For a heartbeat, nothing happened.

Then the air behind him twisted.

Steel flashed.

Damien moved before the blade finished its arc.

He leaned forward, rolled, and came up on one knee as the strike whistled past where his neck had been a moment earlier. The attacker landed lightly behind him, boots barely making a sound against the dirt.

Human. Not a demon nor a beast.

Damien’s eyes narrowed as he took the man in.

Lean build. Wrapped in dark leathers stitched with faint crimson thread. His face was concealed behind a pale mask etched with unfamiliar runes—curved, jagged symbols that prickled Damien’s senses just looking at them.

It was one of those cultists.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep