Gunmage-Chapter 33: Captured

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Chapter 33 - 33: Captured

While Lugh fended off the two attackers in front of him, he simultaneously controlled Dain to do the same.

As they closed in, he realized a little too late that when using Dain, he couldn't see any projection of the future.

The first attack came, sharp and swift. Lugh moved the body on reflex. The blade sliced into Dain's shoulder, peeling away skin. Yet, contrary to their expectations, there was no reaction—no flinch, no hesitation.

Dain's right hand shot out, gripping a short sword by the blade. Steel bit into his palm, blood spilling freely, but the pain didn't slow him down. In the same motion, he closed the distance and delivered a brutal strike to his assailant's elbow.

A sickening crack filled the air. The man screamed, his voice echoing through the trees. This caused his comrades to visibly tense.

Lugh wasted no time. He snatched the blade from the now-limp hand and retreated.

Controlling two bodies at once was wearing on him. This short exchange alone had already left him sluggish, his thoughts hazy. But he had learned something valuable.

He was stronger.

And Dain was stronger.

Dain had lost all sense of self-preservation. He felt no pain, no fatigue. It was as if something within him had shattered, unleashing a raw, almost inhuman strength.

Lugh's own advancement, however, wasn't physical. It was something else entirely. He wielded the stolen blade with an uncanny efficiency, executing techniques he had never even learned.

Techniques that belonged to Lieutenant Dain.

Only now did he realize that he had absorbed the man's past experiences, and his combat instincts. An unexpected boon. But would it be enough?

Dain's shoulder was still bleeding. If nothing was done, he would soon be immobile. The attackers had grown increasingly hostile. He had maimed two of their own. The next wave wouldn't be so easily fended off. He had to flip the table.

Lugh inhaled sharply, bracing himself. Then—

"^@%@^%*"

The world dimmed. An unnatural chill swept through the air. The attackers hesitated—some stumbled, others remained frozen, their bodies trembling uncontrollably. Lugh saw the fear in their eyes even through their masks before he spoke

"Burn everything."

A spark ignited.

And the world burned.

Ghostly blue flames roared to life, consuming everything. Trees crumbled into charred remnants, the air itself igniting as oxygen vanished in an instant.

Smoke churned into thick clouds, blotting out the sky. The attackers screamed, scrambling to escape the inferno.

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Lugh felt the backlash immediately. His body was wracked with pain. But something worse, a deeper affliction had taken hold.

His temperature was plummeting. His skin turned blue, his limbs stiff. Even surrounded by a raging fire, he was freezing.

Worse still, there was no air left to breathe. His vision blurred. He tried to move, but his body refused to respond.

So he used Dain instead.

With staggering steps, Dain scooped Lugh from the ground and broke into a mad dash, fleeing the inferno. The toxic fumes clung to them, making every breath a struggle.

Minutes—that felt like hours—passed, before they finally escaped the blaze's reach.

Dain collapsed first.

Then Lugh.

His body convulsed, his skin deathly pale. His mind drifted in and out of consciousness, caught in a feverish haze.

That was when strong hands seized him.

Someone lifted him. Roughly, carelessly, and tossed him into a cage.

The attackers had survived.

Lugh barely registered the passage of time. His mind wavered between lucidity and delirium as he was carried through unfamiliar terrain. When he next became aware, the ruins had faded into the distance, replaced by something stranger.

The crumbling stone structures gave way to simple wooden huts. The sky remained dark. There was no glow of bioluminescent plants, no towering trees, only a settlement bathed in the flickering light of standing lanterns.

The air hummed with hushed whispers, voices speaking in a language he didn't understand. Lugh's swept his gaze over the crowd peering at his cage.

"Savages"

He thought bitterly.

His captors carried him toward a larger structure, one that towered over the rest. A temple, judging by its layout.

They were inside before he was unceremoniously dumped onto the floor.

He tried to right himself, but his limbs were weak, his body still trembling. The floor beneath him was unexpectedly soft. It was a carpet of woven plant fibers.

Incense coiled lazily through the air, filling the room with a heavy, aromatic mist.

Lugh, disheveled and filthy, stuck out like a stain on silk. His hair was wild, his clothes tattered. Soot blackened his face and his bare feet was grimy.

He glanced around. The walls were adorned with massive murals, painted in vivid detail. Stories of ancient times.

His captors had fallen to their knees in reverence. Their masks had been removed. Lugh caught sight of their faces.

Beautiful.

Not in a natural way. Unnaturally beautiful—men and women alike, as if carved from the finest marble and brought to life. The sight unsettled him. He took a wary step back.

Were they bowing to him?

Of course not.

His gaze lifted to the raised platform ahead.

Five steps led to a woman seated gracefully atop a red mat. Her white garments spilled across the stage, pristine and untouched. An image of something holy, something untainted.

A stark contrast to him, a wretched creature still struggling to stay upright.

Her face was veiled, but he could feel her eyes on him.

Then she spoke.

Her voice was strange. It was something he could only describe as a loud whisper. Soft yet powerful. A language he did not recognize.

The others turned to him, waiting for a response.

He gave them nothing.

She spoke again.

And again.

Each time, her tone and cadence shifted. She was cycling through languages.

On the fifth attempt, she found one he understood.

Elvish.

"Who are you, and where did you come from?"

Lugh remained silent.

He stared at her, blank-faced, feigning ignorance.

There was a long pause.

Then, in the same language, she sighed.

"Well, that's the last one I know. If he doesn't understand us, we might as well just eat him."

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