Ch 12.8

Meriath lay slumped against a low bush at the edge of the garden, her back pressed into the leaves as she struggled to breathe. Blood seeped through her bandages, darkening the cloth. Beside her, Kazyak lay unconscious, her body still and unresponsive.

A few paces away, Chloe staggered through the wreckage.

She dragged Gina first—arms hooked under the girl’s shoulders—pulling her across the cracked ground before collapsing briefly to catch her breath. Then she went back for Fina, repeating the same motion, her legs trembling under the strain.

Her face was streaked with blood from the wound on her head. Sweat and ash clung to her skin. Every step looked like it might be her last.

Still, she didn’t stop.
Even as her vision blurred.
Even as her body screamed for rest.

She clenched her teeth and kept moving, hauling the twins inch by inch away from the collapsing cabin and the clash raging behind her.
“I just… need to get them… a little further…”

Her arms shook. She didn’t have the strength for much more.

From behind an overturned sofa near the edge of the ruined cabin, a group of Wallus’s men watched the battle like spectators at a show.
“Yeah! That’s it—show that rat who’s boss!” one of them shouted, pumping his fist.

“Beat him into the ground!” another laughed.

They were grinning. Cheering. Enjoying it.

Chloe turned toward them, fury flashing through her exhaustion.
“Hey! You!” she shouted. “Get over here and help me!”

The men glanced at her—then scoffed.
“Why the hell should we?” one of them shot back.

“Yeah,” another added. “That’s what those girls get for trying to jump our captain.”

Chloe’s glare sharpened. She straightened slightly, forcing authority into her voice despite her shaking body.
“I am an abbess of the Church,” she said, pointing at them. “Your captain already acknowledged that. Which means—you answer to me.”

They hesitated—just slightly.

“If you refuse,” she continued, her tone hardening, “I will report every single one of you to the Church.”

Her finger didn’t waver.
“And if anything happens to these girls, I will personally make sure the Cardinals hear of it. Do you understand what that means for you?”

Her voice rose, sharp and commanding—like a scolding blade.
“I am already furious with your behavior. Do not push me further.”

For a moment, the men said nothing.

Across the battlefield, Wallus heard it.
His jaw tightened as he clashed with Nosmos, skeletal constructs, and blazing heat colliding around them.

“Hey—” he snapped between breaths, not taking his eyes off his opponent. “Do what the girl says.”

His voice carried enough weight to cut through the chaos. The men flinched.

Behind him, Nosmos stood just as battered—his once-pristine suit now torn at the edges, streaked with soot and cuts. His breathing had grown heavier, each inhale sharper than the last, yet the heat around his fists still burned fiercely, warping the air itself.

Neither side had gained the upper hand. Not yet.

Nosmos’s glare locked onto Wallus, cold and simmering with anger.
“You humans…” he said, voice low but edged with contempt, “always the same. Backstabbing. Never worth the words you speak.”

Wallus met his gaze without flinching.
“Now, now,” he replied, raising a hand slightly, though his posture remained ready for another strike.
“I’ve got a good reason for this. Can you just hear me out for a second?”

Nosmos’s lip curled.
“What is it?” he snapped. “Speak. I’m listening.”

Wallus grimaced, his eyes flicking briefly toward Chloe in the distance—still dragging the injured, still struggling to keep them alive.
“Tch… not here,” he muttered. “I can’t say it out loud like this.”

He looked back at Nosmos.
“Let’s talk somewhere private. I’ll explain everything.”

Nosmos’s expression darkened further.
“I think I’ve heard enough,” he said flatly.

The heat around his fists flared brighter.
“You made a deal,” he continued. “You agreed to let me deal with the one who harmed my brother.”

His eyes sharpened.
“And now you stand in my way… protecting that very same girl.”

Nosmos took a slow step forward.
“So take your explanations…” he said, voice cold and final.
His fist clenched, heat swelling until the air shimmered violently around it. “…to the other side.”

He straightened, then lifted his right hand.
The glow shifted—his palm flattening as if pressing against something unseen. He struck the air once.

A mark remained. A palm-shaped imprint of blazing orange mana hovered before him, pulsing with heat.

Then another.

And another.

Five in total. Each one burned brighter than the last, suspended in the air like molten sigils waiting to be unleashed.

Wallus clicked his tongue, irritation flaring.
“Ah, for fuck’s sake… can’t you just listen for once?”

But Nosmos was already gathering more mana, his focus absolute.
The imprints began to hum.

Wallus didn’t wait.
Mana surged to his fingertips, and his hand moved rapidly through the air, tracing symbols faster than the eye could follow. Runes flared into existence one after another, forming a complex circle before him. The moment he completed it, he activated it.

A portal tore open behind him. Larger than before. Darker.
Something vast stirred within it.

Nosmos’s five imprints suddenly shifted, linking together midair. The separate marks fused, compressing into a single massive handprint of blazing orange energy.

The heat spiked.
“This ends here,” Nosmos declared. “Try and stop it.”

He drew his arm back—and drove his fist forward.
The giant imprint launched.

A torrent of condensed heat and fire erupted from it, tearing through the air like a blazing wave, everything in its path warping under the intensity.

At the same moment, Wallus raised his voice. “I summon the Skull of Brigar—come forth!”

From the portal behind him, something emerged.
A massive skull—beastlike in shape, its jaws wide and jagged. Runes glowed faintly across its bone surface, ancient and ominous. The moment it appeared, its jaws opened. Wide. Wider. As the blazing attack reached it, something unnatural happened.

The torrent bent. The flames twisted mid-flight, dragged forward as if caught in a powerful pull. The inferno that should have consumed everything instead funneled straight into the skull’s open jaw. Bit by bit—then all at once—the entire attack vanished inside it.

Silence followed.

Nosmos’s eyes widened.
“What…?” he muttered. “That’s impossible…”

The skull hovered in place, motionless in the air.
At Wallus’s silent command, its jaws snapped shut—sealing the blazing attack within as if it had simply devoured it whole.

Wallus let out a faint breath, a crooked smile forming. “Well… that was a decent spell.”

The smile didn’t last. A sharp crack echoed. Thin fractures spread across the skull’s surface, spiderwebbing through the bone.
The glowing runes etched into it flared violently, pulsing as if struggling to contain something far too large.

The cracks widened. Light began to leak through the eye sockets… then the jaw.
The entire construct trembled.

Wallus winced, a sharp sting rippling through his body as the backlash reached him. Shit… that was too much.
His brows furrowed. I need to release it—now.

He raised his hand quickly.
The skull responded, tilting its massive head upward. But before it could fully adjust—another crack burst open near its mouth.

A beam tore through.
A concentrated lance of blazing energy shot out from the fracture, ripping forward uncontrollably.

It struck the Pavilion. Stone split apart instantly as the beam carved through the upper structure, slicing across the tower in a clean, destructive arc.

“Hey!” Chloe shouted. “Stop it!”

“I am trying!” Wallus snapped back, teeth clenched.
He forced more mana into the construct, straining to control it. The skull jerked upward, its movement stiff and unstable as he dragged its aim away from the building.

The beam followed—tearing away from the Pavilion and shooting skyward.
The skull’s jaws finally opened fully, releasing the remainder of the stored attack in a violent surge. A pillar of fire roared into the sky, blasting past the clouds before dispersing into nothingness.

For a moment, everything stilled.
The skull dimmed, its surface fractured and unstable, runes flickering weakly. Wallus staggered slightly, the strain clearly catching up to him.

“Dammit…” Wallus muttered under his breath. “That bastard is strong.”

Across from him, Nosmos stood firm, his glare unbroken.
“Impressive,” he said coldly. “You managed to avoid it.”

His fists began to glow again.
“But let’s see how long you can keep that up.”

Wallus exhaled sharply, frustration boiling over.
“You idiot—just listen for once!” he shouted. “I’m asking for a temporary truce. That’s it.”

He gestured sharply.
“After that, go ahead—rampage, kill whoever you want behind my back. I don’t care. Just stop for a few minutes and hear me out!”

Chloe stepped forward, anger flashing across her face.
“Hey! You jerk—don’t forget what you promised. If you try anything—”

“Oh, shut up!” Wallus snapped, rounding on Chloe for a brief second. “Can’t you see this is called diplomacy?”
His voice was sharp, impatient. “Stay out of it, Miss Abbess.”

Meriath grimaced, watching the two men clash again. “These two are monsters…”

“The Pavilion won’t last much longer if they keep this up.”
The voice came from behind. Meriath turned—and found Aisha standing there, scorched and unsteady, with Tevu lying unconscious at her side.

Relief flickered across Meriath’s face. “You’re alive…”

“Barely,” Aisha replied, lowering Tevu gently to the ground. “I almost burned with my own construct.”

She glanced down at Tevu, her expression tightening.
“She shielded me… We need a healer for her. Fast.”

Chloe staggered over and dropped beside them, relief washing over her face.
“Miss Aisha… you’re alright,” she said softly.

Aisha gave her a small, tired smile.
“Thanks to you,” she murmured. “I don’t know what you said to that scum—but if he hadn’t stepped in, that rat bastard would’ve wiped us out already.”

Chloe lowered herself to her knees. Her strength finally gave way.
“It wasn’t anything special,” she said weakly. “I just used my authority as an abbess… and he followed.”

Her hands trembled as she looked down at them. Bruised. Bloodied.

“But I can’t forgive him,” she continued, her voice tightening. “What he did to Sheila… to the others…”

Her fingers curled slightly.
“They’re suffering because of him. And now I’m… using him.”

She swallowed hard. “I don’t know what that makes me.”

Her shoulders shook.
“I feel responsible for all of this. If the Church had seen what was happening… if they weren’t so blind…”

Her voice broke. “…this wouldn’t have happened.”

Tears slipped down her cheeks.
“I’m standing here, commanding the very kind of man who caused all this suffering… using him like a tool.”

Her head lowered. “I’m no better.”

A quiet sob escaped her.
“I don’t even know if the Lord would forgive someone like me…”

Behind them, the battle still raged—heat and bone colliding in violent bursts—but for a moment, none of them looked.
Aisha and Meriath exchanged a glance. Then both looked back at Chloe.

The girl in a nun’s garb. The symbol of the very force that had hurt them.
And yet—the one who had stood between them and destruction.

Meriath sighed and reached out, placing a rough but gentle hand on Chloe’s head.
“Hey,” she muttered. “Stop crying.”

She gave her a light pat.
“Our problem is with that bastard—not you.”

Aisha nodded, her voice calm but firm.
“You did well, Chloe.”

She placed a steady hand on her shoulder.
“Whatever the Church is… whatever he is… that’s not you.”

Her grip tightened slightly. “You helped us. That’s what matters.”

Aisha met her eyes.
“So don’t take responsibility for sins that aren’t yours—”

A blast cut her off. A searing orb screamed past them, missing by inches before slamming into another section of the Pavilion. The impact shook the ground, sending splinters and dust raining down.

Chloe flinched—then her expression hardened, anger overtaking everything else.
“That’s it!” she snapped, pushing herself up despite her exhaustion. “I am reporting this to the Church! You’re going to get all of us killed!”

Across the ruined cabin, Wallus staggered slightly, breath uneven.
“The hell do you think I’m trying to do here?” he shot back, frustration bleeding through. “I feel like I’m getting cooked alive just standing next to this bastard!”

Another orb came.

Wallus reacted on instinct—his skeletal arm surged up and swatted it skyward. The projectile veered off, exploding harmlessly above the Pavilion.
For a moment, it almost looked like a game. Strike. Deflect.

Miss—and everything burns. Each exchange carried the risk of disaster.
Wallus clenched his jaw, sweat dripping down his temple as he forced more mana into his summons.

If it wasn’t for that damned oath…
His eyes flicked briefly toward Chloe. …I would’ve handed her over already.

His gaze snapped back to Nosmos.
No more playing defense. At this rate, I’m the one who’s going to die.

Nosmos advanced again, relentless, heat gathering once more around his fists as the air itself began to warp.

Wallus exhaled sharply, shoulders tightening.
I need to rein this rat in—now.
Before the next hit lands where it shouldn’t.