Chapter 118: The Fall of a Kingdom
The kingdom of Xelthar burned.
Flames consumed its once-proud towers, reduced its mighty walls to rubble, and swallowed the banners of its tyrant king. The streets, once filled with warriors chanting the name of their ruler, now ran red with the blood of those foolish enough to stand against Eldoria's might.
And in the heart of this destruction, Duke Alistair Veyrin and Duke Ragnor Grimthorne stood side by side.
They had been allies for years.
But at this moment?
They were little more than two warriors trying to one-up each other.
Ragnor swung his massive war axe, cleaving through six elite knights in a single swing, their enchanted armor shattering like brittle glass.
"Another six! Not bad, huh, Alistair?" he grinned, his massive frame towering over the battlefield.
Alistair didn't even look at him. With a single precise slash of his crimson sigil-infused sword, he erased ten knights from existence, their bodies evaporating before they could even scream.
He finally glanced at Ragnor, expression unreadable.
"Six?" Alistair asked, voice dry. "I thought you were the 'Titan of Eldoria.' That's a bit disappointing."
Ragnor scoffed. "I'd like to see you swing something heavier than that toothpick you call a sword."
Alistair raised a brow. "I don't need a massive weapon to be effective."
Ragnor grinned. "Ah, so that's why Lady Isolde married you. She prefers efficiency over size?"
Alistair's crimson eyes twitched.
The next moment—three more knights near them exploded into a fine mist, their bodies reduced to nothing by Alistair's next casual swing.
Ragnor laughed. "Oh, did I hit a nerve, old friend?"
The Emperor of Eldoria, Adrian Eldoria, watched them from the steps of the ruined palace.
His golden eyes flicked between the two powerful warriors bickering like children while casually obliterating Xelthar's forces.
He exhaled.
"Would you two focus?" Adrian said, his voice calm but edged with amusement. "We are still in the middle of a war."
Ragnor grinned. "Don't worry, Your Majesty. We're professionals."
Alistair nodded. "We're simply cleaning up efficiently."
Adrian sighed. "Just don't kill the commoners. The soldiers and knights—do as you please."
Ragnor cracked his neck. "You heard the Emperor, Alistair. Try not to get too 'efficient.'"
Alistair simply flicked his blade, sealing the fate of another twenty men.
"Let's finish this," he muttered.
The Princess of Xelthar – A Captive of War
Deep within the shattered remains of Xelthar's palace, a single survivor remained in the throne room.
Princess Ilyra Xelthar who escaped the battlefield after her loss against kael.
Her once-immaculate dark battle armor was cracked, her royal insignia torn. The Blade of the Night—one of Xelthar's most feared warriors—was kneeling, panting, bloodied, but still gripping her sword.
She had fought.
She had fought like hell.
But against Emperor Adrian Eldoria himself?
She never had a chance.
Adrian stood before her, hands behind his back, his golden aura suffocating.
"You fought well," he admitted. "Better than your father."
Ilyra glared at him, wiping blood from her lips. "Then kill me already."
Adrian tilted his head. "Why?"
She stiffened. "You won. You took my kingdom. I am useless to you now."
Alistair stepped forward, his expression unreadable. "She's a high-value prisoner, Your Majesty."
Ragnor crossed his arms. "And she's dangerous. She nearly took out an entire Eldorian squad by herself."
Adrian studied her.
And then—he smiled slightly.
"You misunderstand, Princess," he said.
She tensed.
"You are not useless," Adrian continued. "You are a witness."
Ilyra frowned. "What…?"
"You will see what happens when a tyrant leads his people into destruction. You will watch as Eldoria rebuilds your kingdom without oppression."
Adrian's eyes gleamed.
"And then, one day, you will tell the world who truly saved Xelthar."
Ilyra's hands shook as she stared at him.
This wasn't mercy.
This was a power play.
A fate worse than death.
But she had no choice.
She lowered her sword.
And with that—the kingdom of Xelthar had truly fallen.
The Battlefield – The Arrival of the Headmaster
Back in Krevos, the battle against Chaos and Order had reached its climax.
Life and Death struggled against their corrupted sibling, the battlefield barely holding under their divine power.
The Vanguard, though strong, was barely hanging on.
Kael dodged a blast of chaotic mana, his Gravity Sigils flaring as he countered with a devastating strike.
Lucian, his draconic aura fully unleashed, fought beside him, their swords clashing against Order's divine constructs.
Selene, Mira, Darius, Rael, Cassian, Evelyne, and Leonel held the front line against Xelthar's remaining forces.
But just when it seemed like Chaos and Order would finally overwhelm them—
A storm of mana erupted from the sky.
And from the heavens, a figure descended.
Varian Drakos Eldoria, the Headmaster of Eldoria Academy, had arrived.
His golden cloak billowed behind him, his sigil-covered gauntlets glowing with unreadable runes.
"Enough of this," Varian murmured, his voice calm.
He raised his hand.
And the battlefield itself trembled.