Lord Summoner's Freedom Philosophy: Grimoire of Love
Chapter 281: The Killer of The Lightning Spirit (3) The Truth

Chapter 281: The Killer of The Lightning Spirit (3) The Truth

Lyan took a deep breath, his eyes meeting Griselda’s for a moment before he focused on the Duke. The cell’s dim light seemed to flicker as he began to chant, his voice low and melodic, resonating with an ancient power. The air around them thickened, charged with energy, as glowing symbols started to appear, swirling around Lyan’s hands. The incantation grew louder, and the symbols formed intricate patterns, creating a magical circle that enveloped them.

"Memoriae Tenebrae, Ostende Nobis Veritatem," Lyan intoned, his voice echoing off the stone walls.

The Duke, still unconscious, began to tremble, his body responding to the pull of Lyan’s magic. The air inside the cell grew colder, and the glow of the magic circle intensified, casting an eerie light over their faces. Griselda watched in silence, her heart pounding in her chest as she waited for what Lyan’s spell would bring her.

A shimmering screen appeared before them, hazy at first but gradually becoming clearer. It was as if they were looking through a window into another world, a world that held the Duke’s darkest memories.

The scene began to unfold. The Duke was in a dense forest, riding in his carriage. His face was stern, his eyes scanning the surroundings warily. The carriage jostled over the uneven ground, the wheels creaking under the weight of their haste. Suddenly, shadows moved among the trees. Black-cloaked figures emerged, their faces hidden, their movements swift and silent. The Duke’s eyes narrowed as he signaled his guards.

"Prepare for an ambush," he ordered, his voice calm but authoritative.

His guards drew their weapons, forming a protective ring around the carriage. The tension was palpable as the cloaked figures closed in. A fierce battle erupted, the clashing of swords and the cries of combatants echoing through the forest. The Duke fought valiantly, his blade flashing in the dim light, cutting down his attackers with precision and skill.

"Hold the line!" he shouted, his voice steady despite the chaos.

But the enemy was relentless. More figures emerged from the shadows, overwhelming the Duke’s men. His guards fell one by one, and the Duke found himself surrounded. His expression hardened as he faced the leader of the attackers, a tall figure whose presence radiated power.

"You are outmatched, Duke," the leader said, his voice cold and mocking.

The Duke responded with a fierce glare, raising his sword. "I will not fall to the likes of you," he declared, charging forward.

The leader raised his hand, and a burst of dark energy surged towards the Duke. He dodged, rolling to the side, and counterattacked, his blade aiming for the leader’s heart. But the leader was faster, deflecting the blow with ease and retaliating with a wave of his hand. The Duke was thrown back, crashing against a tree, his sword flying from his grasp.

As he struggled to stand, the leader approached, chanting in an unknown language. The ground beneath the Duke began to glow with a sinister light, forming a magic circle. He looked around, realizing he was trapped.

"You cannot escape," the leader said, his eyes gleaming with malevolence. "You will serve our master."

The light intensified, and the Duke was lifted off the ground, suspended within the circle. He thrashed against the invisible bonds, his face contorted with pain and fury.

"Release me, you fiends!" he roared, but his words were swallowed by the magic enveloping him.

In an instant, the scene changed. The Duke was no longer in the forest but in a twisted, otherworldly landscape. Dark trees with gnarled branches reached towards a sky that was perpetually twilight. Strange, ethereal creatures flitted among the shadows, their eyes glowing with an eerie light.

Dark elves, with their pointy ears and black skin, surrounded him, their expressions disdainful. They regarded the Duke as if he were nothing more than an insect. He was bound by chains of dark energy, unable to move.

One of the elves, taller and more imposing than the others, stepped forward. "You will tell us everything," he said, his voice a low, menacing hiss.

"What do creatures like you who are supposed to be hiding in caves want to know?" The Duke sneered, but his action was a mistake.

With a strong pull of his hair, the dark elf brings him close to his face. "Of course. Everything. About humans, their kingdoms, their weaknesses. Your kingdom and those royals you are very fond of as well. How interesting that you make royals out of humans who don’t have blessings from any gods. But either way, I want you to tell me everything about them," His eyes shone with red light as he stared deep into the Duke’s eyes.

The Duke clenched his jaw, his eyes blazing with defiance. "I will tell you nothing," he spat.

The dark elf smiled, a cruel twist of his lips. "We shall see," he said, raising a hand. Dark magic flowed from his fingertips, wrapping around the Duke like a suffocating shroud.

The interrogation was brutal. The dark elves used their magic to probe the Duke’s mind, tearing through his memories with ruthless efficiency. He resisted, fighting to protect the secrets he held, but their power was overwhelming.

"You will serve King Vespian," the leader intoned, his voice resonating with unholy power. "You will spread discord and chaos to the humans in his name."

The Duke’s screams echoed through the dark forest, a sound of pure agony. He felt his will being eroded, his mind being twisted by their magic. He struggled to hold on to his sense of self, but it was slipping away, replaced by a darkness that consumed him.

"No," he gasped, his voice barely a whisper. "I must... protect them..."

The dark elf’s laughter was cold and merciless. "You will protect no one," he said. "You are ours now."

The Duke’s vision blurred, the world around him dissolving into shadows. He felt himself being pulled into an abyss, a void of endless nights. His last coherent thought was a desperate plea for forgiveness, a silent apology to those he had failed.

The memory ended abruptly, the illusionary screen dissolving into mist. The cell was silent, the air heavy with the echoes of the Duke’s torment. Griselda and Lyan stood in stunned silence, the weight of what they had witnessed pressing down on them.

The Duke’s eyes fluttered open, but there was no life in them. His body shuddered, and to their horror, he began to wither. His skin turned ashen, his flesh cracking and crumbling away. In moments, he was nothing more than a black stone, and from that stone, twisted trees began to grow, their branches reaching out like skeletal fingers.

Lyan staggered.

"Lyan? you’re fine?" Griselda asked as she saw Lyan clutching his chest.

He coughed violently, and blood spattered the ground. Griselda rushed to his side, her face pale with fear.

"Lyan!" she cried, her voice trembling. "What’s happening? Are you okay?"

He waved her back, his face contorted with pain. "Don’t... come close," he managed to gasp. He closed his eyes, uttering a series of incantations through gritted teeth, trying to stabilize the magic that was tearing at him.

But before Griselda could react, a soft, ethereal light filled the room. A figure appeared, glowing with a gentle, healing radiance. It was Cynthia, her presence calming and soothing. She placed a hand on Lyan’s shoulder, her touch enveloping him in a warm, healing glow.

"Lyan, be still," she said softly, her voice like a soothing balm. "Let the magic work."

Lyan’s breathing steadied, the pain in his expression easing as Cynthia’s magic took effect. The glow around them intensified, and the dark magic that had been wreaking havoc on his body dissipated, replaced by a serene light.

Griselda watched in awe, her heart pounding. She had heard of Cynthia’s powers but seeing them in action was something else entirely.

"Thank you, Cynthia," Lyan said, his voice weak but grateful.

Cynthia smiled gently. "Rest now," she said. "You have done well."

As Lyan’s strength returned, Griselda turned her attention to the stone and the twisted trees that had once been the Duke. Her expression hardened with resolve.

_____________________________

Name: Lyan Arkanium Evocatore

Occupation: Mythril-ranked Mercenary, Unofficially Baron Evocatore of Grafen

Money: 3,775,710,950 Elnes / 3775 gold 71 big silver 9 big coppers 5 coppers

Weapon: Magic Glaive, 1 (Decent) One-handed Sword, 5 (Good-Quality) One-handed swords, 1 (Decent) bow, 1 Gryphon-Winged Sword

Equipment: 3 Black leather cloak, 2 Leather Armor, 2 Breastplate, 4 Health Potions, 2 Poison Vials

Grimoire’s Companions: 8 High Spirits, 3 Valkyrie, Shadow Goblin Lord (Lv. 5), Papilio Slime (Lv. 45), Galewing Butterfly (Lv. 45), Rock Golem (Lv. 50), Deadlight (Lv. 74), Moonlight Butterfly (Lv. 45), Ice Golem (Lv. 50), Acid Ant Queen (Lv. 19), Magma Bear (Lv. 1), Fey Mammoth (Lv. 1), Arcane Retriever (Lv. 1), Winter Wolf Alpha (Lv. 12), Fenris (Lv. 1), Gargoyle (Lv. 1), Shadow Nymm (Lv. 1), Seltas Queen (Lv. 1), Rune Wolf (Lv. 1)

Grimoire’s Army: 6 Shadow Servants, 800 Skeleton Army (24 Goblin Champion Skeletons, 226 Hobgoblin Skeletons, 550 Goblin Skeleton Army), 80 Acid Ants Workers, 30 Acid Ants Soldiers, 4 Female Winter Wolves