Chapter 109: Greet Them All!

The four students were crouched at the tree-line, shadows covering their approach. The ruin of the shrine sprawled before them, flickering torchlight painting the hooded figures in hues of blood-orange.

Elara’s hand trembled faintly as she pressed it to the ground, immediately pouring more Mana into her ’Battle Map’ and getting a clearer understanding of their surroundings. Once she was done, she whispered,

“From Mana Traces, I sense exactly 67 of them. There might be more hiding inside the ruined catacombs however, so we need to be careful,” She said, waiting for anyone else to speak up.

Persephone did not blink. Her obsidian-black eyes drank in the altar, the runes, the figures, “Then we need to clear out this area quick and get to the center where they’re conducting the ritual. Wasting too much time on these small-fry accomplishes nothing.”

Morgana gave a short, nervous exhale that sounded almost like a laugh. “Straightforward. That’s one word for it.” Her hands trembled, yet not from fear.

Mana flowed from Morgana’s hands and she already began to weave her magic throughout the environment, black threads of magic slicing between her fingers and dark runes began to be etched across the ground, “I’ll tether the first circle. Persephone, you’ll know when to step.”

Persephone nodded once, without even looking at her. As though they had rehearsed this a hundred times before, allowing Elara and Albedo to notice their experience in working together.

Albedo’s gaze tracked the movements of the worshippers, Source Code flickering across his irises. He could see the various distortions occurring in space around the altar, and the way the Abyss chewed and rewove fragments of the world into unnatural geometry.

His fingers twitched, threads of purple light flickering, yet he did not move to the front. He would support from the back. He wanted to see what Persephone really was when unleashed.

The hooded figures swayed, their chanting rising, filling the clearing until it felt as though the trees themselves pulsed with the sound. And then,

Persephone stood up without any hesitation, her cloak whispering against the moss-rotted earth, and then her aura slammed outward.

Amethyst Rank power detonated like a pressure wave, bending branches backward, snuffing torchlight along the outer rim of the shrine. The ground quaked, shallow cracks spidering outward beneath her boots.

The chanting faltered, dozens of heads jerking up in eerie unison. Dozens of black, pupil-less eyes turned toward the treeline, and the forest went silent.

Morgana’s voice broke that silence with a single word, “Now.”

She clenched her hands together, and the tethered circle she had been weaving roared to life. A web of shadow spread like spilled ink, stretching across the clearing, writhing toward the feet of the nearest worshippers.

From it, jagged tendrils of darkness shot upward, spearing through many of their legs and anchoring their bodies. The figures shrieked, not with fear, but in some hideous joy, as though pain was pleasureful and would enhance their prowess.

It was freaky and unnerving, but the squad had no time to pay attention to it as Persephone quickly moved forward.

She glided ahead effortlessly, black mana crackling around her arms, spiraling upward in patterns that looked almost too geometric, too perfect. She raised one pale hand, and with a flick, the air before her detonated.

Three worshippers at the edge of the clearing imploded, their bodies collapsing inward as if crushed by the invisible jaws of a titanic monster. It was shocking and gore filled.

“Elara!” Albedo’s voice snapped out and the girl quickly reacted, slamming her hands together, a golden glow illuminating the surrounding area.

The glow quickly formed itself into a parchment which unfurled midair, glowing sigils spreading across the sky immediately.

Instantly, the group saw highlighted arcs, movement paths of incoming enemies. Elara’s voice quivered, but she forced strength into it, “They’re spreading from the left flank! Twenty on the move!”

Albedo immediately nodded, snapping his fingers and various lances formed out of Crimson Apocalypse Flames were summoned at his sides, hissed into existence and then fired off in precise deadly volleys.

~BOOM~BOOM!~

Multiple immense explosions rocked the corrupted forest as the flame lances connected with the attackers. The Crimson Apocalypse Flames viciously clung to their bodies and burned them to ash in fiery destructive explosions.

More and more Abyssal Worshippers surged from the tree-lines, wielding blades enchanted with Abyssal power, but each of those blades that came too close to striking Morgana or Persephone was ripped apart by Flame Lances, or wrapped up by Elara’s Nature Magic.

Neither Persephone or Morgana turned to handle the incoming attacks, as both of them knew Albedo had their backs, allowing them full focus to raze the front facing enemies to the ground.

Morgana’s shadows thickened. She lifted both arms, and the ground beneath the nearest cluster of worshippers tore open into a churning void. Screams gurgled as half a dozen bodies were swallowed into nothingness, only their derived screams of freakish pleasure remained.

Simultaneously, before the others could react, Persephone swept her hand outward, black fire streaking from her palm. A vast amount of the remaining figures erupted, their robes and flesh igniting with violet-black flames that but consumed hungrily, as if it was the flames’ last meal ever.

Elara’s eyes widened, “T-that’s… not just Amethyst. That’s,”

“Focus,” Albedo cut her short, his voice calm, his hands still raised as his bolts punctured skulls with merciless precision. “They’re breaking rank, shifting inward.”

Morgana was already weaving again as she stepped in closer behind Persephone, their movements threading seamlessly together. When Persephone raised her hand for a downward strike, Morgana shifted her spell to coil around it, doubling its force and lethality.

A crescent of blackened mana scythed through the clearing, and with Morgana’s augmentation, it cut deeper. The altar itself shook, several hooded figures around it shredded mid-chant, their entrails painting the cracked stones.

For every one that fell, three more came screaming. They charged, mouths split wider than human, teeth jagged, arms warped by the Abyss into claws.

Persephone waded into them.

Her movements were brutal, surgical. She struck one with a palm strike that shattered its chest inward, pivoted, and loosed a blast that ripped two more apart.

Morgana stood tight at her flank, tendrils whipping out to entangle limbs, leaving prey helpless for Persephone’s finishing blows. Their rhythm was frightening—one maimed, the other killed. One blinded, the other crushed.

“Beautiful…” Morgana whispered under her breath, her voice tinged with awe, though she never faltered in her casting.

Persephone’s eyes did not shift, her expression cold as marble. But her hand lingered for a half second longer than necessary after one strike, brushing near Morgana’s shoulder as if anchoring her.

Elara’s voice pitched in again, “North perimeter! They’re trying to re-form their chant!”

“Not today.”

Persephone spread both arms wide. Her aura erupted in full, swallowing the clearing in Amethyst might. Black mana spiraled upward, coalescing into a storm above her head. She clenched her fists, and rained it down.

Spears of black fire crashed into the northern perimeter, each impact kicking up shockwaves that flung robed bodies through the air. The chanting cracked, faltered, then collapsed into screams.

Morgana instantly followed, her shadows racing along the ground to swallow stragglers, weaving a dome of darkness that crushed them inward until nothing but pulp remained.

Albedo exhaled softly, lowering one hand as the Source Code flicker dimmed. He had not needed to unleash himself. Not yet. Persephone and Morgana were more than enough to hold the line.

The ground around the altar writhed, runes crawling faster, hungrier. A deeper voice rose from within the shrine, low and guttural, as though the Abyss itself had found its tongue.

Albedo’s Source Code flickered wildly across his irises, the threads of reality themselves unraveling in his vision.

His jaw tightened.

“They’re trying to summon a swarm of beasts to overrun the entire region,” he said, as he noticed the mana flow of the Abyssal Summoning Ritual, his gaze locked on the darkest portion of the distortions.

“I’m not letting that happen.”

Without hesitation, he snapped his fingers. A rift of blue and white corrosive fire cracked open before Albedo, and Ember burst forth aggressively, the ground beneath her hissing at her intensive flames.

Albedo vaulted onto her back in one fluid motion, Havoc and Ruin already in his hands. His cloak whipped in the updraft as Ember neighed and reading to ride off.

He cast one final glance at the three women—Elara clutching her glowing map with trembling determination, Morgana’s shadows writhing hungrily at her fingertips, Persephone a statue of unleashed destruction, eyes locked coldly on the horde before her.

“You three, clear the outer shrine. Collapse their lines, keep them from reinforcing.” His voice was steel, commanding, absolute,”The ritual core is mine.”

Persephone tilted her chin, unblinking. Morgana’s lips parted, as though to speak, but closed again, only a thin smile ghosting across her face. Elara swallowed hard, then gave a sharp nod.

Albedo raised one pistol skyward. The muzzle flared crimson, a single round fired into the night sky like a signal flare.

Then Ember neighed loudly and ferociously once more, the world around them shaking under her cry, a sound of primal dominance that sent even the Abyssal Worshippers staggering.

She launched forward in a single titanic show of speed, the trees bending and cracking under her sheer force as she ran towards the black heart of the ritual.

Beneath him, Albedo’s eyes glowed violet with Source Code, seeing every distortion, every warped strand of mana pulling something colossal from the Abyss.

“If they think they can call those things into my world…” His lips curved in a razor’s edge of a smile,”Then I’ll be the one to greet them all.”

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