The Destructive Adventures of the Lovers-Chapter 77: Shattered Castle

The cold wind twisted around them as the darkness of Aeiwou's grand castle closed in, the air thick with the scent of old stone and frozen blood. Shadows stretched along the cracked marble floors, their shapes warping in the flickering torchlight, whispering of countless lives lost within these cursed walls.

They emerged in a blur of twisted energy, their breaths coming in sharp, savage gasps, the blood still dripping from Vaneshka's scythe, the echoes of King Vesh's last, broken heartbeat still pounding in her ears.

"Welcome, traitors," Aeiwou's voice rumbled through the vast, frozen hall, her tone dripping with ancient malice. She stepped from the shadows, her limbs crackling like ice, her eyes blazing with an unholy light as her form twisted, shattering and reforming, her breath coming in slow, measured puffs of freezing mist.

Atlas grinned, his small blades spinning in his hands, their edges glinting like shards of broken glass. "You should have stayed hidden," he whispered, his eyes narrowing as he took a step forward. "This castle will be your tomb."

Lydia stepped beside him, her wand sword humming with a low, sinister vibration, the air around her warping, twisting as her shadow split, her form flickering like a dark, twisted flame. She whispered a spell beneath her breath, the words sharp, slicing through the air like a blade.

"Enough talk," Phill rumbled, his massive form towering over the others, his fists clenching, the muscles in his arms flexing as he took a step forward, the ground beneath his feet cracking, splintering. "Let's end this."

Aeiwou's eyes narrowed, her limbs snapping into sharp, jagged angles as she lunged forward, the ground beneath her shattering, her icy limbs slicing through the air. Lydia's wand sword slashed through the darkness, a burst of blue-white energy exploding from its tip, the stone walls around them shattering, massive chunks of marble and ice raining down, splitting the floor as Aeiwou screamed, her form crackling, shattering, reforming as the ground itself buckled beneath her.

Atlas blurred forward, his blades spinning in his hands, the air around him warping as he closed the distance, his knives slicing into Aeiwou's side, dark blood spraying across the cracked stone.

Phill roared, his massive fist crashing into Aeiwou's chest, the impact splitting the air, sending shockwaves through the trembling stone as Aeiwou stumbled, her icy form fracturing, shards of frozen flesh raining down around them.

Aror's fists flashed, his blows coming faster than the eye could follow, each strike cracking bone, shattering stone, his body moving in a blurred, inhuman dance of violence.

Vaneshka's eyes burned as she reached out, her power surging, the blood around her twisting, coiling, slashing into Aeiwou's legs, the flesh splitting, dark blood spraying as Aeiwou let out a scream of pure, unfiltered rage.

"Break her," Vaneshka whispered, her voice dripping with venom as the blood around her surged, lashing out, coiling around Aeiwou's form, tightening like a noose. "Tear her apart."

The creatures lurking in the shadows surged forward, their twisted, ice-covered forms shattering against the stone, their jagged limbs reaching, slashing, their eyes glowing with a cold, unearthly hunger. But the Evil Clan moved as one, their bodies blurring, their movements sharp, precise, each strike breaking bone, shattering ice, the air thick with the sound of cracking stone and shattering flesh as they cut their way through the horde, their breaths coming in sharp, savage gasps.

Through it all, Vaneshka stood at the center, her scythe dripping with blood, her eyes glowing as she whispered to the shadows, her power twisting, warping, cutting through the darkness, her breath misting in the freezing air as she watched the castle around them crumble, the stone cracking, splitting, the darkness whispering of blood and fire, of broken kings and shattered thrones.

And as Aeiwou's final, twisted scream echoed through the crumbling halls, Vaneshka smiled, her eyes gleaming as the darkness closed in, her scythe dripping, her breath coming in slow, savage puffs as she whispered to the shattered stone, her voice dripping with cold, unyielding finality.

"Die."

The icy wind howled through the shattered remnants of Aeiwou's castle as the last of her creatures fell beneath the relentless assault. The ground trembled with every blow, the air thick with smoke and the acrid scent of burning stone.

Phill roared, swinging his massive fists and crushing the final twisted monstrosities into frozen dust. "No more hiding," he growled. "This ends now!"

Aror cracked his knuckles, grinning fiercely. "They thought they could hold us back? Pathetic."

Lydia raised her wand sword high, chanting a spell that pulsed with raw energy. "Let the castle burn! Let the past be razed to ashes!"

A deep rumble shook the fortress as cracks spiderwebbed across its walls. Atlas grinned, vanishing in a blink only to reappear, slashing at key structural points with his small blades.

Vaneshka's eyes glowed crimson as she stepped forward, her voice cold and commanding. "Together. Tear it down before they regroup." freewёbnoνel.com

The Evil Clan moved as one — a deadly whirlwind of power and fury. Stone exploded, towers crumbled, and the castle groaned in collapse. The ground quaked beneath them as flames roared through the ancient halls, swallowing memories of terror and defiance.

From the rising dust and smoke, Vaneshka's voice cut clear, a vow carved in fire: "This world will bow. We will rise from these ashes."

The castle shattered, the last echoes of its fall swallowed by the winter storm's fading cry. Outside, the battlefield lay silent — but the war had only just begun.

The air crackled as Atlas clenched his fists, the world around them folding, twisting, warping. A heartbeat later, they reappeared at their hidden site, deep in the shadowed heart of the Simbaku forest. The bitter wind was gone, replaced by a crisp, clear sky, the sunlight filtering through the twisted, blackened branches like shattered glass.

Phill stretched his massive arms, his muscles still tense from the battle. "Finally, a break from that damn storm," he grunted, brushing the ash from his cracked knuckles. "We made that witch scream. Felt good."

Aror smirked, running a hand through his wild, blood-streaked hair. "Aeiwou thought she could stand against us. Foolish." He cracked his neck, his bones snapping back into place. "But we still have work to do."

Lydia paced the clearing, her wand sword still crackling with residual magic. "Aeiwou was just a stepping stone," she said, her eyes glowing faintly beneath the shadow of her hood. "If we want to take this world, we have to crush its symbols. We need to cut the heart out of the kingdoms."

Atlas leaned against a twisted tree, his blades still dripping with dark, frozen blood. "The son of the Holy Land," he said, his voice sharp, cold. "He's the key. Without him, the faith of the people shatters. The Mankaynds crumble."

Vaneshka, her eyes still burning with the echoes of the battle, stepped into the center of the circle, her scythe resting against her shoulder. "And the king of Lavera," she added, her voice a sharp, venomous whisper. "Once he falls, the rest will follow. The Mankaynds will break, their hope will die."

Phill let out a deep, rumbling laugh, the sound echoing through the twisted forest. "I'll crush his skull myself," he said, clenching his fists until his knuckles cracked. "I'll rip his throne apart, stone by stone."

Aror flexed his hands, the flesh beneath his skin knitting itself back together, his veins pulsing with fresh power. "And I'll tear through his armies, one by one. Let them come. Let them see the true power of the Dead Clan."

Lydia's eyes narrowed, her fingers tracing the sharp edge of her blade. "Then it's settled," she said, her voice cutting through the cold, smoky air like a blade. "We strike at their hearts. We crush their leaders. We break their will."

Vaneshka tilted her head back, her eyes closing for a moment as she felt the warmth of the sun on her face, the fresh blood drying on her skin. "Let them tremble," she whispered, her voice dripping with malice. "Let them drown in their own despair."

The Dead Clan fell silent, the air around them thick with the scent of blood and burning flesh, the shadows whispering of chaos and death as the sunlight cut through the twisted branches above, casting long, jagged shadows across their blood-stained faces.