Chronicles of Legends

Volume 8 Chapter 2 - Beginning of the End

|Gary|

We emerged from the portal, finding ourselves within the grand halls of Taegrim Caelum, the very heart of Alacarya. The expanse of the castle's high ceilings and opulent architecture commanded a sense of awe.

Caution enveloped our every step as we advanced, utilizing sound magic to suppress our footfalls and remaining vigilant for any signs of Vritras guarding the premises. Surprisingly, there were no immediate threats to be found.

Arthur's voice broke the silence, calling out a name that carried weight and emotion—Caera. His gaze fell upon a woman confined within a cell, her untamed navy-blue locks falling in disarray around her shoulders. Despite her unkempt appearance, her beauty shone through.

Recognizing Arthur, the woman's scarlet eyes widened with a mix of elation and urgency as she lunged towards the iron bars separating them. "Grey!" she exclaimed, her voice filled with longing.

Arthur hastily pried open the prison door, eager to embrace her. However, Caera held him at arm's length, her words coming out in a jumble, "No, run! They know you're coming!"

Before we could fully comprehend her warning, a surge of energy filled the air as three Legacies materialized in our vicinity.

Time seemed to stand still as we braced ourselves for the impending confrontation.

Amidst the chaos, a girl emerged from the ranks of the Legacies, capturing our attention with her striking appearance. Her dark purple hair, meticulously styled, cascaded down to her hips, but it was the lifelessness in her eyes that sent a chill down my spine. There was an absence, a void where emotions and vitality should have resided—a puppet controlled by another.

"You are my target," the entity declared, her scarlet eyes fixated on me with unwavering intensity. With lightning speed, she propelled herself toward me, her right foot digging into the ground for added force.

Lancelot swiftly intercepted her, his [Spirit of Notos] shield effectively blocking her powerful punch.

'Our adversaries have certainly become more formidable,' I mused, furrowing my brows. Suddenly, I sensed a distortion in the space around me.

I was no longer standing.

Or rather, falling might be an understatement.

I was being forcefully drawn away by a master of gravity magic and spatium, a fourth-dimensional object, a tesseract. The spell, even in its incomplete form, manifested itself in 3D reality—a feat achievable only by someone of at least <SSS-> rank with remarkably high mana and aether affinities.

'Someone other than Legacies possesses this level of power?' I pondered.

Nevertheless, I remained untroubled.

The Paladins wouldn't succumb to defeat any longer.

"Win," I declared, utilizing my sound magic to transmit the information to the Paladins through the mana-aether spell, just before willingly yielding to the force of the spell.

I found myself immersed in a sea of knowledge. Whoever this person was, they were undeniably formidable.

'Agrona had such a potent card up his sleeve,' concern seeped into my being before I activated [Monarch's Indifference], causing the spell to vanish.

The only missing element in the spell was the addition of aevum to impart a temporal quality.

Eventually, I arrived in a pocket dimension. A man stood before me, his back turned.

"Gary Whiteborn," he murmured, his words carrying a weight of power that surprised me as they diffused through the air.

"Or should I address you as Ren Dover?" he chuckled, "I never imagined a lesser would pose such a challenge. You singlehandedly unraveled centuries of my hard work."