My Anime Shopping Tree & My Cold Prodigy Wife!
Episode : 71

Chapter : 141

With a strangled yell that was equal parts battle cry, terrified shriek, and profound exasperation at the universe’s apparent vendetta against him, he flung his hands outwards. A shimmering, chaotic, almost pathetic explosion of steel wires erupted from him, hundreds of them, thin and sharp, but lacking their usual incandescence, their usual tightly controlled menace. They wove themselves with desperate, frantic speed into a vast, tangled, haphazard net that stretched between them and the advancing, colossal head of the obsidian serpent. They weren't superheated, they weren’t precisely controlled, they were just… there. A sudden, unexpected, probably entirely inadequate barrier of gleaming, razor-edged steel, a last, defiant snare against the encroaching darkness.

"NOW, FANG!" Lloyd screamed, his voice hoarse, his vision blurring at the edges from the sheer effort of will. "HIT THE NET! LIGHT IT UP! GIVE IT THE FULL WATTAGE! LET'S SEE IF THIS OVERGROWN GARDEN HOSE IS AFRAID OF SPARKS!" He was hoping, with a desperation that bordered on lunacy, that the wolf understood the insane, improvised, almost certainly suicidal tactic.

Fang, with a final, heroic surge of power that seemed to drain the very light from his golden eyes, launched himself forward. Not at the snake, not anymore. But at the shimmering, newly formed, probably quite flimsy steel web. The last vestiges of his lightning power, dragged from the very depths of his depleted Spirit Core, coalesced around his leading foreleg. The Thousand Chirp Strike formed, weaker now, the bird-song shriek thin, reedy, almost pathetic compared to its earlier glory, but still charged with a desperate, defiant elemental fury.

CRACKLE-HISS-POP-FIZZLE-BOOM!

Fang’s lightning-infused paw slammed into the geometric center of Lloyd’s desperate, tangled steel net.

The effect was… visually spectacular. For about half a second.

And then, it was utterly, hopelessly, tragically, comically futile.

The lightning, weak as it was, surged through the hastily constructed, conductive steel wires. For one glorious, heart-stopping, almost beautiful fraction of an instant, the entire haphazard net erupted, transformed into a crackling, spitting, incandescent cage of azure energy. Sparks, brilliant and blue, flew in every direction, momentarily illuminating the terrified faces of Faria’s group, the grim set of Lloyd’s jaw, the weary droop of Fang’s ears. The air filled with the sharp, pungent scent of ozone, momentarily overpowering the cold, earthy smell of the serpent. The light show was, for that brief, insane moment, almost impressive. It looked, for one fleeting, desperate instant, like they had actually managed to momentarily trap, or at least startle, the colossal serpent in a web of pure, concentrated lightning.

Then, reality, in the form of a fifty-foot-long, nigh-invulnerable, probably quite cross, mythological guardian snake, reasserted itself with brutal, dismissive efficiency.

With a sound like a thousand brittle threads snapping simultaneously under immense strain, the steel wires, already weakened by Lloyd’s depleted Void reserves, overloaded by Fang’s desperate electrical surge, simply… vaporized. They vanished into faint wisps of smoke and lingering ozone. The lightning, unable to penetrate the serpent’s impossibly dense, magically resistant, obsidian-like scales, dissipated harmlessly against its shimmering, unblemished hide, causing nothing more than a faint, almost contemptuous static crackle that might have been the reptilian equivalent of a bored sigh.

The gigantic obsidian serpent didn't even seem to notice the attack. It didn't flinch. It didn't recoil. It didn't even pause in its slow, inexorable, terrifying advance.

It blinked. Its vast, golden eyes, each larger than Lloyd’s head, closed slowly, then opened again, with an expression that might have been interpreted, had anyone been in a state to interpret anything other than raw, pants-wetting terror, as mild, almost detached annoyance. As if a particularly bothersome gnat had just buzzed vaguely near its snout before being casually ignored.

Lloyd stared, his desperate, last-ditch hope crumbling into cold, grey ashes of despair. The net, gone. The lightning, useless. His most potent Void manipulation, Fang’s signature strike – their combined, desperate gambit – had amounted to less than a mild atmospheric disturbance for this creature. Fang, the last of his energy utterly spent, was thrown back by the uncontrolled, rebounding electrical discharge, landing in a whimpering, sparking heap at Lloyd’s feet, his magnificent storm-grey fur smoking slightly, his golden eyes dull with exhaustion.

The momentary, defiant light show faded, leaving the clearing plunged back into the oppressive, cold twilight, now rendered even more menacing by the utter, comprehensive failure of their desperate, final stand.

Chapter : 142

The gigantic obsidian serpent continued its slow, unhurried, almost languid advance, its colossal head swaying gently from side to side, its golden eyes fixed, with that chilling, possessive intensity, on Faria Kruts and the Dark Vein flower she still clutched, forgotten, in her paralyzed grip. Its forked black tongue flickered out again, tasting the air, tasting their fear, tasting, perhaps, the imminent satisfaction of reclaiming its stolen treasure and dealing with the bothersome, insignificant insects who had dared to disturb its ancient slumber and pilfer its sacred bloom.

They were out of tricks. Out of power. Out of options. Out of time.

This, Lloyd Ferrum thought, with a sudden, profound, and surprisingly calm certainty that settled over him like a shroud, was very probably it. The end of the line. The final curtain. He really, really hoped the afterlife had better upholstery than the Ferrum Estate’s guest suite sofa. And maybe, just maybe, fewer giant, flower-obsessed, nigh-invulnerable guardian snakes. One could only hope.

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The utter, comprehensive failure of their desperate, lightning-infused web trick hung in the air, thick and suffocating as the Galla Forest’s own miasma. The gigantic obsidian serpent, its golden eyes gleaming with ancient, cold indifference, continued its inexorable advance, a mountain of scaled, moon-dappled night flowing towards them, its attention locked onto Faria Kruts and the cursed bloom she still held like a talisman of impending doom. Fang lay whimpering at Lloyd’s feet, a smoking, depleted bundle of fur and twitching lightning, his brave spirit utterly spent. Hope, Lloyd thought with a grim, almost detached clarity, had just packed its bags, left a sarcastic note, and caught the last stagecoach out of 'Certain Deathville'.

Just as the serpent’s colossal head, vast and terrifying as a looming thundercloud, began to dip lower, its forked black tongue flickering out to taste the air inches from Faria’s petrified face, a new sound ripped through the terrified silence. It wasn't a shriek of despair, nor a whimper of surrender. It was a roar. A raw, defiant, utterly human roar, laced with the desperation of a cornered wolf and the unwavering courage of a soldier facing impossible odds.

"STAND BACK, MY LADY!"

Captain Valerius, the older, grey-bearded guard who had earlier spoken with such quiet dignity, the veteran whose weary eyes held the weight of countless battles, exploded into action. He wasn't young, his face was etched with the harsh lines of a life spent on the blade’s edge, but in that moment, he seemed to shed decades, his body thrumming with a sudden, astonishing surge of power. His well-worn leather armor, usually muted and practical, seemed to shimmer with an internal light, and his stance, legs braced wide, sword held high, radiated an aura of unbreakable resolve.

"You will NOT touch her, foul beast!" Valerius roared again, his voice echoing through the glade, a surprising thunder against the serpent’s chilling silence. He poured his will, his very life force, into his Spirit Stone, which blazed with sudden, fierce intensity on the pommel of his longsword. "By the honor of the Kruts name, by the oath I swore! AWAKEN, STORMWING! TO ME!"

The air around Captain Valerius didn't just shimmer; it tore. Reality itself seemed to fracture as a creature of myth and legend, a being of storm clouds and primal fury, burst forth into the dim twilight of the glade with a shriek that rivaled the Mire Monster’s own in sheer, piercing intensity.

It was a Griffin. A magnificent, terrifyingly beautiful creature, easily the size of three warhorses, its plumage the color of a gathering thunderhead, storm-grey feathers tipped with purest silver that glinted like captured lightning. Its powerful forelimbs, unlike the purely avian structure of lesser griffins, were thick, muscular, almost humanoid in their articulation, ending in razor-sharp talons that could disembowel a knight in full plate with a single swipe. Its hindquarters were those of a powerful lion, rippling with corded muscle, promising devastating speed and agility. Its great, eagle-like head, crowned with a crest of darker, storm-tossed feathers, held eyes like burning coals, blazing with fierce intelligence and unwavering loyalty. Its beak, hooked and wicked, looked capable of punching through castle walls. This was no mere Manifestation-level spirit. This was an Ascension-level powerhouse, a true lord of the skies, a living siege engine of beak and claw.