Lord of Ascension: The Birth of Chaos
Chapter 59 Tracking the Grogth

Chapter 59: Chapter 59 Tracking the Grogth

(Far from the Palace)

Magnar stepped between the trees, his cloak brushing against the damp forest floor. His boots left faint marks on the moss-covered ground, but even the crunch of leaves felt swallowed by the silence. Not even the usual chirp of birds or the rustle of the wind could be heard.

The whirring of a small metal in his palm was the only noise in the dark forest. Fog covered everything, making it hard to see anything.

The small round metal had an arrow that kept rotating. It spun faster in the southern direction.

’Tricky, I see. But I’ll definitely get you.’

Magnar stopped in his spot. He looked up, and a drop of liquid fell on his face. His finger brushed off the liquid, rubbing it as if to examine what it was before he brought it to his nose.

He scrunched his nose from the awful smell. The liquid was dark green. "I know that you are close by," he muttered, a sinister smirk forming on his lips.

The compass in Magnar’s hand spun for a few seconds before the arrow stopped, rotating toward the left.

That wasn’t the direction he expected... but creatures like the Grogth never followed a straight path.

He stood, his eyes narrowing at the thick fog ahead. Something felt off. The mist didn’t move with the wind, it folded inward like it was being pulled toward something.

He stepped forward in that direction.

The air got colder with every step he took. The trees ahead looked strange, deformed like they’d been sick for years. The ground was scattered with bones, some already turning brown... others were still fresh. But most of them were missing their heads, and the ones that had theirs had a huge hole at the top, as if the inside was scooped out.

He continued walking. He stopped when something crunched under his boot. He looked down. An old pendant stuck out from beneath his boot. The chain was tangled in dry roots, and a piece of torn, bloodstained cloth was still entangled with it.

He bent down and picked it up, slipping it into his pocket without a word.

The compass suddenly jerked in his hand again. The arrow spun once, then slammed to the right and stayed there. The edges of the metal pulsed faintly, glowing with dull white light.

Magnar’s grip tightened. ’It’s closer.’ He turned and walked deeper into the trees. The fog thickened around him, clinging to his cloak.

Up ahead, a tree stood taller and thicker than the others. Something dangled from one of its branches.

Magnar squinted his eyes. It was a body with dry, sunken skin, as if it had been dried out like a fish. The head also had a hole.

Underneath the hanging corpse, deep scratch marks covered the bark. They were shaped into circles. They were the symbols of the Grogth.

Magnar stared for a moment. His hands moved in the air, a blue circle formed between them, then he threw the rune beneath the tree. Blue energy circled the tree, going upward into the sky. It was like confinement.

"Come out," he said, his voice low.

The forest stayed quiet. Then, all of a sudden, a soft shuffle broke the silence behind him.

His lips twitched, but he didn’t turn. His hand moved slowly toward the hilt of his blade.

The sound behind Magnar grew louder. It was slow and heavy, like something dragging itself across the ground.

A rough breath broke through the fog. It was wet and ragged, with a stench that came with every breath.

Magnar’s fingers brushed the hilt of his blade. The cold metal met his skin, but he didn’t draw it yet. His eyes stayed locked on the glowing runes swirling up the old tree.

The air changed. It thickened, sharp with the taste of rust and blood. The mist behind him swayed, then slowly pulled apart.

A figure appeared from the fog. Its limbs were long and crooked. Its back was hunched. Its skin was wet and black like a toad. Its skull was bare, shiny and dark, with soulless ashen eyes.

The creature walked silently toward him, its pale eyes gleaming with hunger.

Magnar turned. His blade slid out with ease. It barely made a sound, but the air around it seemed to tremble.

The Grogth lunged forward with a loud screech, its mandibles opening wide, aiming for his head.

Its sharp claws flung at him. Magnar ducked and moved aside, then slashed upward. His blade tore through its side. The skin split open, and black blood sprayed into the air, vanishing into the earth with a hiss as it touched the ground.

The creature let out a loud shriek. It pulled back... then vanished into the fog again.

Magnar didn’t chase after it. He knew what it was doing. The Grogth didn’t run away that easily, it circled its prey, waiting for any sign of weakness.

He reached into his coat and pulled out a black shard. Red lines pulsed across it like living veins. He pressed it into the center of his compass. The compass shook in his hand. The arrow snapped forward and held steady.

The mist ahead pulled back. Then the creature appeared again. It towered above a tree, and its mandibles made a clicking sound. Its long limbs stretched across the branches. It hung upside down, its eyes locking on Magnar.

Magnar cracked his neck. "It’s fun using a small amount of my power. I can enjoy killing it slowly."

With a flick of his hand, a blue light slashed through the air, moving toward the Grogth. The Grogth jumped to another tree. When it looked back, it saw the tree had been sliced in two. It screeched angrily before jumping toward Magnar.

Magnar stood in his spot with a smirk plastered on his face. The Grogth clawed at him, but he didn’t move. The creature’s hand hung mid-air, its eyes widened slightly in horror.

It struggled to move away, but it was frozen in place.

"Enough... it’s getting boring." Magnar snapped his fingers, and the Grogth disintegrated, its screech fading into the air.

With another flick of his fingers, the fog disappeared.