UNMEI: Pantheon's Game-Chapter 117: Same Ends

Atlas lay sprawled across the thick, wide branch of the tree blooming with soft purple flowers. The petals swayed gently in the breeze, some falling like lazy snowflakes around him as he gazed at the vast sprawl of Rendely city below.

His hand rested on his chest, fingers lightly curled, as if gripping at something unseen.

But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't shake the memory.

The flash came in harsh and fast, the moment of the fight.

The platform roared with voices as Atlas faced Azrael Rodeny, their figures standing apart but locked in an invisible thread of pressure.

Atlas dashed forward, his neba flaring green around his fists as he exchanged blows with Azrael. The strikes cracked against each other, heavy and raw, neither side giving in.

Azrael stepped back, lifting his hand, and that's when everything changed.

Atlas's body suddenly seized up. A stab of pain shot through his left shoulder, sharp as a dagger. He gasped, and before he could react, another wave of agony hit his right knee.

Then his lower back. Then his chest. Every strike invisible, every pain shifting in an unpredictable rhythm.

His legs buckled.

Azrael's neba pulsed around him like liquid heat. His eyes gleamed with cruel excitement as he stepped forward, calm and sure, while Atlas gritted his teeth and tried to push back.

"Shield it... shield it..." Atlas's mind raced as he cloaked himself in neba, wrapping his core and vital points. For a second, the pain stopped, and his eyes widened.

It's his ability. He's attacking my nerves... no, my pain senses... switching targets every second. It's not a physical hit. It's inside.

But knowing didn't help when the next pulse came. It bypassed his defenses, striking from within, sending his balance into chaos. His arms felt heavy. His breath shortened.

Azrael moved like a phantom, his steps easy and unhurried while Atlas struggled just to stay standing. Another bolt of pain jerked through his ribs, and this time, his vision blurred.

His own neba couldn't keep up. There was no pattern, no place to guard that wouldn't be broken the next moment.

Azrael's fist crashed against his gut, sending him flying back. Atlas hit the ground hard, coughing, but forced himself up again.

He dashed, his Neba flaring in one desperate surge as he lunged forward, but Azrael, calm as ever, raised his hand.

A final, twisting wave of pain wrapped through Atlas's whole body like a chain, and before he knew it, the world tilted. His feet left the platform as his body flew backwards, crashing beyond the arena's edge.

The roar of the crowd dimmed as darkness swallowed his sight.

...

Atlas exhaled sharply, his chest rising and falling. He sat up on the branch, the purple petals catching in his hair and on his clothes.

It wasn't just that he lost, it was that he couldn't even fight back.

His fingers clenched around a fallen petal. Soft footsteps crunched on the wood behind him.

Cassius stood there, arms crossed, the wind stirring his long coat. His gaze was firm but not unkind.

"Are you ready?" Cassius asked.

Atlas didn't speak for a moment. He let the petal fall from his hand.

Then he stood up, turning to face his mentor.

He nodded, his jaw set. "Yeah... I'm ready."

.

.

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King Aramir stepped onto the grand balcony, where the vast sprawl of Rendely stretched before him, golden towers glinting in the dying light. The breeze was cool, but heavy, like the air itself sensed the tension looming over Sanatria. free𝑤ebnovel.com

Footsteps echoed softly behind him.

He didn't turn. He knew that presence.

Neathel Murderthrone, his queen, moved with graceful silence, the long black dress whispering against the marble floor.

Her golden hair gleamed under the fading sun, and her crimson eyes, sharp yet warm, fixed on him as she stepped close and gently cupped his face with both hands.

Her voice was soft, but edged with iron.

"So distant... even now. You didn't even greet me properly, Aramir."

His stern expression finally cracked, lips curving into a faint smile. "I didn't think you'd return this soon. It's been too long, Neathel."

She leaned in and pressed her lips on him, slow, familiar. When she pulled back, her eyes searched his.

"How are the boys? James? Damion?"

Aramir let out a breath. "They're extraordinary, as always. There's no need for you to worry about them. Both have lived up to the name we gave them."

He paused, searching her face. "And you? How did it go?"

Neathel's fingers trailed down from his face as she stepped beside him, gazing out at the horizon.

"It was harder than I thought. The edge of the continent... it's still the same. A cursed land. Millions of monsters packed against the wall of mist... endless and hungry. Crossing it is impossible unless you're at least purple Neba."

Her voice grew colder. "And even when you're that strong, the risk to die is still too high."

Aramir's jaw tightened. He exhaled slowly, looking down at his hands, large, calloused, powerful... yet suddenly they felt heavier. How did Magma cross the Mist barrier then? Was it luck? Or does he have a special ability that makes crossing easier for him?

"In a few days, Richard Amellia will hold the Families Gathering. The ceremony must go on." His tone turned sharp. "I'll send you, James and Damion. I have... other matters to deal with."

Neathel turned her crimson gaze to him one last time, then gave a silent nod.

"Very well. I'll go see them. They've probably missed their mother."

With that, she turned and left, black dress sweeping behind her like a shadow.

Aramir stayed, unmoving. The sun dipped lower.

His thoughts churned.

Ned is now a Rodeny. Atlas... joined the Ceresey family. Dune... no family, but bound to Bloodrose now. And soon, Richard's gathering will pull every family into the same place. Everything is aligning... perfect chance to investigate every family into Rendely.

But then...

A flicker in the air. He felt her before he saw her.

Soul's Mirror, Serena, appeared and dropped to one knee before him, her breath faint but steady. Her silver hair shimmered under the light.

Aramir's eyes hardened.

"Can you check again? Now?"

Serena's head lifted. She nodded once, then rose and stepped forward. Her slender hands pressed against his face, cool, soft, and then her eyes ignited, glowing deep purple.

Aramir's vision blurred. His own eyes burned, flashing purple in response.

Serena suddenly gasped, falling to one knee again, visibly drained. Sweat beaded on her brow.

Aramir's voice was low, dangerous.

"Speak."

She inhaled sharply, then met his gaze.

"I'm sorry, my king. It's the same... again. Your death is inevitable. The best path I see... is you dying within a year. But..." Her voice faltered.

"There are other possibilities too... dying today, next week, next month. All paths end the same. But every time I try to see the cause... I see nothing. Only that you are dead, but no hand. No killer."

Aramir exhaled slowly, heavy.

"You may leave. And remember your mission, find Asyl. Bring me what I need to know."

Serena bowed deeper, then vanished without another word.

Aramir turned and laid his hands against the golden statue beside him, a grand rose entwined with swords, gleaming in the twilight.

His jaw clenched.

"Soul's Mirror's ability... sees all futures. Every path. Yet she cannot see who ends mine. Only that I am dead. Why? Who hides behind this veil?"

His mind raced.

Magma... he's the biggest suspect. He's not from Sanatria and it makes sense for him to kill me, but... It would be a stupid decision, because he wouldn't have enough neba left to cross the continent and escape.

His fingers gripped the statue tighter.

Cassius? I knew him since we were kids, he won't ever betray me.

What about Cel? He has no ambition for power, no hunger for thrones...he wouldn't go against me.

His eyes darkened.

Who among them dares? Whoever they are...

they will not leave this city alive.

James will be the king after me... Sanatria will live on. And I... I will be ready. No matter what."

The last light of day faded behind him.