Finally, the battlefield was silent, stinking of ichor and fire. The trees, or rather what remained of them, were blackened husks, their twisted forms swaying gently as if sighing in relief that the swarm-beast had finally been defeated.

Smoke curled in lazy spirals, and the air still shimmered with the oppressive heat of Persephone’s last spell. For a long moment, none of them spoke, just taking in the moment as they looked around at the charred environment all around them.

Persephone still hovered slightly above the ground, her skeletal wings of black fire spreading their glow across the corpse-strewn clearing. She slowly began to float down towards the ground, her wings of black fire folding into her form and vanishing.

She looked unbothered, her expression as cool as it had been when they began, though her pale cheeks glistened faintly with sweat.

Albedo exhaled slowly, lowering Havoc and Ruin. His hands ached from the recoil, but he ignored the sting. Ember paced beside him, flames guttering along her mane, her white-blue eyes scanning the shadows for stragglers.

None came. At last, she gave a snort that sounded like victory and exhaustion in equal measure.

Elara slumped to her knees. Her golden map flickered once above her head before sputtering out entirely. She pressed her hands against the soil to steady herself, breaths coming ragged.

The blood dripping from her nose painted her lips crimson, and her green eyes were half-lidded with exhaustion. Yet, when she looked at the others, relief broke through her trembling frame. “We… we did it. Gods, it’s over.”

Albedo nodded and walked forward, kneeling at the edge of the crater, studying the remnants of the Swarm-Beast’s corpse that hadn’t been sucked back into the Abyss.

The torso and limbs had been dragged back through the collapsing rift, but one thing remained: its head, or what was left of it.

The jagged carapace was cracked, most of its features mangled from Persephone’s annihilation spear. But the sheer size of it remained undeniable.

The head alone was the size of a house, and its fractured mandibles twitched with leftover energy, still oozing ichor that hissed when it struck the scorched earth.

Albedo moved closer, drawing Ruin once more. He aimed carefully, purple Source Code matrices unfurling across his vision, highlighting the beast’s pulsing remnants. Then, without a word, he fired a single graviton round into its temple.

The round detonated with a dull, crushing boom. Carapace cracked. Bone and flesh imploded inward. The enormous skull fractured into pieces before sliding to the ground with a wet thud. Black ichor gushed across the earth, but the twitching ceased.

The four of them stared at the massive, grotesque head lying among the wreckage.

“That’ll do for proof,” Albedo said flatly.

Then, with his usual efficiency, he conjured chains of spectral fire that wound around the beast’s severed head. The weight was immense, but the chains groaned and shimmered, lifting it slowly off the ground. Ember pawed the dirt, ready to drag the grisly prize.

“Alright,” Albedo muttered, rolling his shoulders, “We move.”

The group left the shrine behind. No cultists remained, no swarm-lings skittered through the trees. Hollowwood was silent for the first time in weeks. Their boots crunched through blackened leaves as they followed the path toward the Wardens’ outpost.

Once they returned to the Warden’s Camp, they noticed many of them standing around, looking in awe as they saw the students dragging behind them the colossal head of the swarm-beast, shouts erupted across the battlements. Horns blared in awe of their achievment.

Commander Yorrin himself strode forward to meet them, his eyes fixed on the students that he measured, judged and respected fully now.

“By the gods…” Yorrin’s voice was gravel, low and heavy. He glanced at the beast’s severed head, then at the four bloodied figures who had dragged it here. “You’re telling me students did this?”

Morgana leaned against the beast’s skull with a lazy grin. “Not bad for first-years, wouldn’t you say, Commander?”

Yorrin’s gaze lingered longest on Persephone. Her posture was regal, her black eyes unreadable, her robes still faintly smoldering with residual flame. For a moment, the seasoned Commander looked unsettled, like he was staring not at a student but at something other.

“You’ve done more than my entire outpost managed in weeks.” His gravel voice softened—just slightly. “The Hollowwood Shrine is secure again. We’ll burn what remains and post sentries to ensure no cultists return. You’ve earned this.”

He gestured, and two of his officers stepped forward and took over control of the beast’s head.

“The artifacts recovered from fallen cultists. They’re yours by right.” Yorrin said.

Elara hesitated before taking hers, staring at the blood still drying on her hands. She whispered softly, almost to herself, “Worth it, I suppose…”

Commander Yorrin stepped closer, his weathered boots crunching against the gravel, his broad shadow stretching across the ground toward them.

His weathered, scarred hand rested briefly on the edge of the beast’s cracked mandible before he turned back to face the group. His granite eyes studied each of them in silence, weighing them, measuring the young warriors who had turned back the Abyss in his stead.

At last, he spoke, voice carrying the finality of a war drum. “You’ve not only purged Hollowwood, but you’ve reminded us why the Academy sends its best into the field. Without you, this entire frontier might have collapsed. For that, you’ll not only receive payment… but recognition.”

He gestured to one of his officers, who hurried forward carrying a long oak case bound in iron. Yorrin opened it himself, revealing four polished medals resting on dark velvet. Each was etched in bronze and obsidian, stamped with the sigil of the Wardens, a crossed spear and shield encircled by a burning flame.

“These signify Hollowwood’s Deliverance,” Yorrin intoned. “A mark given only to those who stood against the impossible and returned victorious. Wear them proudly. They will serve as proof of your merit, both in this mission and beyond.”

He stepped forward in turn, clasping the ribbon of each medal around their necks.

Elara flinched slightly when his rough fingers brushed her shoulder, but her eyes shone with quiet pride as the medal settled against her chest. Morgana accepted hers shyly, looking at Albedo and already imagining how it would look hanging in her room.

Persephone bowed her head a fraction, her expression neutral, yet something flickered in her black eyes—satisfaction, perhaps, or the faintest recognition of worth.

When Yorrin reached Albedo, there was a pause. Commander and student locked eyes. Yorrin’s gaze was not one of dismissal or awe but of respect—the kind a soldier gives another soldier.

He fastened the medal, then stepped back and offered a firm nod, “You’ll all go far. Just make sure you survive long enough to prove it.”

The soldiers around them cheered, raising weapons in salute. The sound of it rolled across the camp like thunder, a farewell fit for heroes.

The return was swift. The Wardens had prepared the teleportation circle within the outpost’s command tent, and soon light swallowed the group whole. The burned forest, the ichor-stained soil, the swarm-beast’s corpse, Hollowwood vanished behind them.

When the glow faded, they stood once more within the polished marble halls of Zephyr Academy’s Mission Hall. Students and staff bustled all around, yet their arrival did not go unnoticed.

Eyes turned, whispers sparked, and a ripple of recognition spread across the chamber as they walked toward the reward counter with soot-streaked robes, fresh medals hanging against their chests, and the unmistakable aura of those who had fought something far beyond their years.

At the counter, the attendant looked up, wide-eyed. She nearly dropped her ledger when she saw their medals, “Hollowwood…?” she breathed.

Albedo placed his medal upon the desk with deliberate calm. “Completed. Report confirmed by Commander Yorrin himself. The shrine is purged.”

The clerk fumbled for a moment, then nodded rapidly, stamping their mission parchment and adding the reward merit to their accounts.

Persephone accepted hers without expression, sliding the pouch into her robes. Morgana tilted her head, lips curving into a pleased smile. Albedo tucked his away quietly, his gaze already distant.

Elara, however, lingered. She turned, clutching the pouch against her chest, and looked between the two who had first brought her into this—the enigmatic Persephone and the quiet, sharp-eyed Morgana.

Her voice was soft, tired but sincere, “Thank you… both of you. For inviting me, and Albedo. It was a….unique experience,”

Morgana smirked, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Don’t get sentimental. You held your own out there, Elara. You’re part of the reason we came back alive.”

Persephone’s gaze flicked briefly toward Elara. The faintest inclination of her head followed—a gesture so subtle it might have gone unnoticed. Yet for Elara, it was worth more than a dozen words.

With the rewards settled and their mission officially complete, the group exchanged glances, silent understanding passing between them.

“Until next time,” Morgana said with a wave of her hand, already drifting toward the darkened corridor that led toward the Academy’s dorms.

Persephone turned without a word, her steps measured, her silhouette swallowed by the crowd like a phantom.

Elara stood for a moment longer, watching them go, before she turned to Albedo with a small smile. “Guess that’s it.” The source of thɪs content is N0v3l.Fiɾe.net

Albedo gave her a faint nod, nothing more as they walked off together out of the Mission Hall.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep