NOVGO.NET Chapter 398: Another Test For Lyone
Chapter 398: Another Test For Lyone
Lyone nodded, though his jaw was tight.
Arielle finally stepped down from the carriage, her eyes glancing at the bodies littering the ground. “For a first mission, he performed… adequately.”
Lyone’s gaze snapped toward her. “Adequately?”
Arielle tilted her head, unbothered. “You killed men who were weaker than you. There’s nothing admirable in that.”
Lyone’s cheeks flushed, his grip tightening on his sword hilt. “Then next time, I’ll prove myself against something stronger.”
Damien raised a hand, cutting off the growing tension. “You’ll have plenty of chances. For now, we move on.”
He glanced toward Fenrir, who had sat silently throughout the slaughter, massive jaws resting on its paws. With a single mental command, the beast rose, pulling the carriage forward once more.
As they set off again, Damien leaned back in his seat, his expression unreadable. The lesson had been delivered. Lyone had shown her strength, her ruthlessness, her eagerness. Now it was time to see what would come of it.
The road stretched on, endless, and Damien knew this was only the first of many trials waiting on their path to Delwig.
The carriage rattled steadily along the dirt road, Fenrir’s powerful strides dragging it with tireless ease. The air was cooler now, evening creeping in, streaking the horizon with faint purples and gold.
Lyone sat stiffly, still stewing over Arielle’s dismissive “adequate” remark from earlier. He kept his hands folded tight around the hilt of his sword, replaying the bandit fight over and over in hus mind. He had been fast. Precise. Ruthless. And yet, it hadn’t been enough to earn anything more than faint acknowledgment.
Damien noticed. Of course, he noticed. But he didn’t speak. Not yet.
Instead, he gazed outward, his senses stretched across the land. Something stirred nearby—heavy, foul, unnatural. It wasn’t men this time. It was something else.
He raised a hand. “Stop.”
Fenrir halted instantly. The wolf’s nostrils flared, lips pulling back to reveal gleaming teeth. A low growl reverberated in its chest, the kind of sound that made the air itself quiver.
Arielle’s eyes opened at once. “What is it?”
Damien stepped down from the carriage, his gaze fixed on the treeline to the right. “Not bandits. Something stronger.”
Branches snapped. The ground trembled. A hulking figure pushed its way through the trees—a beast nearly twice the size of Fenrir, its body rippling with coarse fur marred by jagged crimson veins.
Its eyes glowed faintly purple, saliva hissing as it dripped from its maw. Its claws gouged trenches into the dirt with every step.
A Grade Six demonic beast.
Even before it roared, the sheer weight of its aura pressed against them like a storm.
Lyone’s breath caught in his throat. “Wh–what is that?”
Damien’s lips curved faintly. “Your next test.”
His head whipped toward him. “What? That thing—”
“You wanted to prove yourself,” Damien interrupted. His tone was calm, absolute. “Now’s your chance.”
Arielle frowned, her voice sharp. “He’s not ready for this.”
“I know,” Damien replied, not taking his eyes from the beast. “That’s why it’s a test.”
Lyone’s pulse hammered in his ears. His instincts screamed at him to run, but his pride chained his feet to the ground. He wanted to prove himself. He wanted more than “adequate.” So he drew his blade, swallowed his fear, and stepped forward.
The beast lunged, faster than its massive frame should have allowed. Its claw swiped down, a strike that could’ve split Lyone in half.
Lyone’s eyes widened—but the world slowed.
Colors dulled. The sound of the beast’s roar stretched into a long, warped echo. He moved, stumbling aside, hus6 sword barely scraping the beast’s arm as the claw missed him by a breath.
Time snapped back, and his heart nearly tore from his chest. He had triggered it—his gift. The Talent of Time.
But it was clumsy. Raw. He couldn’t control it, only react instinctively in the face of death.
Another swipe came. He slowed the world again—just enough to stagger away, the claw tearing a shallow gash across his shoulder instead of dismembering him. Pain flared hot, and blood ran freely, but he forced himself to keep standing.
His blade lashed out, carving lines into the beast’s hide. But the cuts barely sank deeper than its outer fur. Its hide was like steel.
The beast bellowed and slammed a paw down. He rolled aside, barely alive again thanks to that fleeting flicker of slowed time, but his breath was coming faster, his body trembling harder with every escape.
Damien watched from the side, arms crossed. Fenrir crouched low, ready to leap, but Damien’s mental command kept him still. He wanted to see how far Lyone could go. How much he could endure.
Lyone’s left arm hung limp, blood soaking his sleeve from another strike he hadn’t fully evaded. His legs shook, his lungs burned, his Talent flaring wildly and unpredictably each time the beast’s attacks neared his death zone.
He wasn’t winning. He wasn’t even close.
Still, he staggered back to his feet each time, his hair streaked with dirt and blood. “Not… done yet…” he hissed, planting his blade into the ground to steady himself.
The beast roared again, its aura thick with malice. It reared back to deliver a finishing blow.
And in that instant, Arielle stepped forward.
“Enough.”
The air shifted violently. Violet sigils bloomed across the ground around her feet, arcs of raw power weaving into a circle of runes that pulsed like a heartbeat. She raised one slender hand, her lips parting.
Chains of light erupted from the circle, snapping upward, piercing into the beast’s limbs and dragging it to a halt mid-swipe. It shrieked, thrashing against the bindings, but Arielle’s eyes were cold, merciless.
“Burn,” she whispered.
Flames of violet fire burst into existence, spiraling around the creature, searing into its flesh. It howled, the sound splitting the air, shaking the trees, but Arielle’s hand closed into a fist—and with it, the beast was consumed.
The fire devoured its corrupted essence, unraveling it from the inside out. When the flames finally died, all that remained was its massive, scorched corpse collapsing into the dirt with a thunderous crash.
The forest fell silent.
Lyone panted heavily, collapsing to one knee, his sword slipping from his grip. Sweat and blood soaked his body, his eyes wide with exhaustion.
Damien finally stepped forward, his boots crunching against the charred earth. He passed Lyone without a word, stopping at the smoldering corpse of the demonic beast.
He crouched beside it, running his hand over its blackened hide. Despite the burns, the crimson veins were still faintly visible, crawling like poison through its body.
“…Demonic essence,” he murmured.