Chapter 65: One more strike
The Lord of Undead staggered, his armour cracked and leaking the faint light that pulsed beneath.
Edward’s breath came heavy, his blade trembling in his grip.
"Just one more strike—"
But before he could move, a black blade pierced clean through the Lord’s stomach.
The weapon twisted, pulled free, and the towering figure of the Lord of Undead collapsed forward, a hollow thud shaking the ruined street beneath their feet.
From behind the corpse, a silhouette stood—calm, almost serene amidst the chaos.
Auren.
Edward’s eyes widened as the necrotic haze that filled the air began to thin. All around them, the horde of undead faltered, their bones turning to dust, their flesh unravelling into drifting smoke. Within moments, the battlefield fell eerily silent.
Edward could barely form the words. "Why would he—after everything—"
Then he saw it. The black ink etched across Auren’s chest began to shift, slithering like living veins. The mark spread, creeping over his shoulders, his arms, his throat—until his entire upper body pulsed with the corrupted glow of the pact mark.
Edward’s memory flashed—Aeris’s warning echoing in his mind.
The pact mark spreads as the pact grows stronger.
"Did he just—"
"Ahhh, how wonderful!" Auren’s voice broke through the stunned quiet, rising into an ecstatic laugh. "All this strength... and to think he was only at ten percent of his original strength..."
The ink settled across his skin, faintly pulsing as if it fed from something unseen. Auren raised his arm, flexing his hand with fascination. His eyes, now lined with black, glowed faintly red.
Edward’s stomach twisted at the sight.
"Did he... consume him?"
Auren tilted his head slightly, his grin widening. "Thank you, Edward. Truly, I couldn’t have done it without you."
Edward took a slow step forward, anger seething beneath his exhaustion. "What the hell is the meaning of this? You went through all that just to kill him?"
"Kill him?" Auren chuckled. "No, no. I didn’t kill him. I devoured him. My pact required strength worthy of ascension, and he provided it." He turned, glancing toward the horizon where the smoke still lingered. "And now, it’s done."
Edward’s grip on his blade tightened. "You slaughtered half the town for this? You think you can just walk away?"
Auren began to turn, the smirk never leaving his face. "You should be thanking me. I helped you end the war, after all."
The words snapped something in Edward. He lunged forward, shadows bursting from his feet, but the ground beneath them ruptured.
Dark green tendrils exploded from the earth, twisting around his arms and torso. Edward barely had a second to react before the vines constricted, binding him mid-step.
To his right, Arthur struggled, his sword falling from his grasp as the same tendrils coiled around his chest and neck. Even the Shadow Reaper was caught mid-motion, its body thrashing in futility before freezing completely.
"Don’t push it, Edward." Auren’s tone was casual—almost too casual. "I’ll leave you alive. At least for now... but don’t push your luck."
He didn’t even glance back as he simply walked away.
Edward thrashed, shadows flaring around his limbs. The air shimmered as he tried to Shadow Step—but the tendrils pulsed in response, pinning him in place. They didn’t just bind him physically—they drained the shadows themselves.
Arthur groaned, his armour creaking under the pressure. "What... is this...?"
"Some kind of corruption magic..." Edward muttered, gritting his teeth. "He’s feeding on the mana in the ground."
Auren’s figure grew smaller as he vanished into the haze. Only when he disappeared completely did the vines lose their strength, dissolving into smoke. Both men collapsed onto the cracked stone.
Edward slammed a fist into the dirt. "Damn it!"
He rose shakily to his feet and immediately sent a silent command. The Shadow Reaper flickered into existence, its form twitching before darting off in the direction Auren had gone. Edward didn’t expect much—Auren was likely already gone—but he had to try.
As the silence settled, he finally looked around.
The once-grand heart of the town was gone. Buildings reduced to ash. Roads broken, filled with corpses. The air reeked of blood and char.
Arthur stumbled closer, his steps uneven. His armour hung in pieces, a gash running across his shoulder.
"Well..." he muttered, his voice hollow, "...at least he’s dead."
Edward turned to him. The Prince, once a radiant and composed figure, now looked more like a soldier who had lost too much.
"You don’t look so good," Edward said.
"I’d say you look too good after whatever that was that we just fought..." Arthur said with a weak chuckle, collapsing to one knee, "I’ll manage fine... But I can’t say the same for this town."
Edward said nothing. His gaze drifted back to the ruins.
The few remaining royal guards were dragging the wounded from the debris. Townsfolk had already begun moving—hauling rubble and pulling others to safety. Amidst all the ruin and all the pain, they continued forward.
A faint smile tugged at the edge of Edward’s lips. "They might manage better than you."
Arthur let out a strained laugh that turned into a cough. "That... might be true."
For a while, neither spoke. Only the sound of crackling fires filled the air.
Then Edward broke the silence.
"Auren’s gone... but I doubt that will be the case for long. Someone like that doesn’t just vanish."
"He’ll get caught eventually," Arthur replied, still catching his breath. "The royal family will hunt him down. They won’t let this go."
His voice dropped, bitterness creeping into his tone. "If my father had just listened... none of this would’ve happened."
Edward frowned. "What do you mean?"
"Aeris came to plead for help," Arthur said, eyes distant. "But father refused. He said she had to earn it. He made her fight in some damned tournament before granting any aid. By the time troops left the capital... the Crimson Oath had already taken over the town."
Edward’s jaw tightened.
"What kind of fool—" he began, but remembered it was Arthur’s father.
"What kind of Ruler lets his people die out of pride?"
Arthur’s lips twisted into a tired smile. "A fool."
He laughed—a hollow, pained sound that turned into another cough.
Edward turned away, looking toward the horizon. The smoke was beginning to thin, and sunlight was finally breaking through.
But deep down, he knew... this wasn’t a victory. It was the beginning of something much worse.
Auren had devoured the Lord of Undead.
And if his suspicion was correct... they will definitely cross paths again.