SPIRITBINDER: The Boy Without A Mark
Chapter 98: Descension

Chapter 98: Descension

The air was thick with tension as the two sides stood ready for war. The vibrant garden of Ketamran had transformed into a battleground, every inch brimming with energy.

Levan’s eyes gleamed with cold confidence. "You know you’re going to lose. You’re outnumbered—four against three."

Despite the odds, Vianna smirked. "Outnumbered or not, we can still beat your asses."

Medas, his expression unreadable, stepped forward. "You seem to be forgetting one thing, Levan. You’re in my territory."

At those words, the ground trembled faintly as the soldiers and guards of Ketamran marched forward in disciplined formation. Their spears gleamed under the pale light, and their resolve was evident.

While the rulers remained focused, Morvane had already slipped away, far from the battlefield.

The tension was palpable as each ruler took their position, power radiating off them like heatwaves.

Crimson unsheathed his twin katana blades, their sharp edges glinting ominously. The others raised their hands, ready to wield their powers.

Levan’s voice cut through the tension. "So you’re willing to let your people die to protect one kid? Medas, you are truly the dumbest ruler in history."

The insult hung in the air for a moment.

Then the silence shattered as the battle erupted.

Crimson’s katana flashed through the air, each swing precise and deadly. Deus, fueled by his ever-growing strength, met each attack with brutal force. Their duel was a breathtaking display of skill and raw power. Crimson’s blade narrowly missed Deus’s arm as the latter dodged and countered with a bone-crushing punch.

Medas launched a series of telekinetic blasts at Levan, who deflected them effortlessly with his copied telekinesis. Their powers clashed in a dazzling display of force, sending shockwaves through the battlefield. Levan smirked as he mimicked Medas’s moves, but Medas’s familiarity with his territory gave him a slight edge.

Vianna’s eyes glowed with an eerie light as waves of emotional manipulation rippled toward Ikana. The latter’s probability manipulation shielded her from most of the mental attacks, but Vianna was relentless. Her adrenaline surged, granting her enhanced speed and strength as she pressed forward, forcing Ikana to retreat.

Dergo roared as he charged through the ranks of Ketamran’s soldiers. His punches were powerful enough to shatter the ground, but he deliberately held back, ensuring none of the soldiers suffered fatal injuries. One by one, they fell unconscious under his blows. "I don’t kill innocent men," Dergo muttered to himself as he deflected another spear.

The battlefield was a maelstrom of power, chaos, and determination.

Despite the overwhelming odds, Medas, Vianna, and Crimson fought with unwavering resolve. Their loyalty to Morvane fueled their strength.

But the question lingered in the air—would their resolve be enough against the combined might of four powerful rulers?

The battlefield erupted with flashes of magic and clashing steel. Each ruler moved with precision and lethal intent, their powers weaving a symphony of destruction across the once-serene Ketamran garden.

Crimson’s katana sang through the air, its edge slicing through space with unparalleled precision. His every movement was calculated, honed by years of combat experience.

Deus, a mountain of raw strength, grinned as he dodged Crimson’s attacks, his muscles bulging. "You fight well, Crimson. But raw strength wins wars."

Crimson smirked. "Let’s test that theory."

Deus lunged forward, his fist aiming for Crimson’s chest. The impact shattered the ground beneath them as Crimson barely parried the blow. The force sent him skidding backward.

"You’re fast," Deus admitted, wiping sweat from his brow, "but can you keep up?"

Deus bit into a thick piece of jerky mid-fight, his body visibly surging with newfound strength. His speed and power amplified, and he charged at Crimson like a human juggernaut.

Crimson’s eyes narrowed. "Time to stop holding back."

He twisted his blade in a fluid motion, channeling his combat mastery into a whirlwind of strikes. Each clash of metal against Deus’s fists sent shockwaves through the air. The battle was a deadly dance of precision versus overwhelming force.

Medas raised his hand, sending a wave of telekinetic force toward Levan. Rocks and debris hurtled through the air, but Levan mirrored the gesture, deflecting the attack with identical telekinesis.

"I know every move you’re going to make, Medas," Levan sneered. "Your powers are mine now."

Levan’s mimicry was near-perfect. Every telekinetic blast Medas unleashed was countered seamlessly. But Medas was no fool—he knew his power inside out.

"You can copy my powers, Levan," Medas said calmly, "but not my experience."

Levan’s eyes narrowed as Medas shifted tactics, manipulating the terrain itself. Massive stone columns erupted from the ground, forcing Levan to dodge and counter.

Suddenly, Levan’s hand glowed with dark energy—a mimicry of Morvane’s manifestation magic. A force wave exploded from Levan, pushing Medas backward.

"I didn’t think you could copy that even Morvane is not here anymore," Medas muttered, blood trickling from his lip.

"I can’t fully replicate it," Levan admitted, panting. "But this little portion is enough."

Despite the disadvantage, Medas pressed on, knowing that Levan’s mimicry had limitations.

Vianna’s eyes gleamed with a hypnotic light as waves of emotional manipulation spread across the battlefield. Soldiers and rulers on her side alike felt the subtle tug of her influence—confidence, adrenaline, and a will to fight gripped into their minds.

Ikana, however, was a formidable opponent. Her probability manipulation shimmered around her like a shield, warping events in her favor.

"You can’t control me, Vianna," Ikana said coolly. "Probability is on my side."

Vianna gritted her teeth. "We’ll see about that."

She pushed her powers to the limit, amplifying her adrenaline. Her body moved with superhuman speed and strength as she charged at Ikana. Blows were exchanged in rapid succession, each one faster and more precise than the last.

Ikana’s probability manipulation twisted the outcome of each strike, narrowly avoiding fatal blows. But Vianna’s relentless assault was chipping away at her defenses.

"You can’t dodge forever," Vianna hissed.

"I don’t have to," Ikana whispered, her eyes gleaming.

Dergo moved through the ranks of Ketamran soldiers like an unstoppable force. His punches sent men flying, but he carefully pulled his strength to avoid fatal injuries.

"I don’t kill innocent men," Dergo muttered as he deflected a spear thrust and knocked its wielder unconscious.

A particularly brave soldier charged at him, but Dergo caught the spear mid-air and snapped it in half.

"You’re brave," Dergo said with a hint of admiration, "but bravery won’t save you today."

Despite his restraint, Dergo’s presence was a hurricane of strength, clearing a path through the soldiers with devastating efficiency.

The battlefield was a chaotic symphony of power and determination. Each ruler fought with everything they had, their unique abilities pushing the limits of possibility.

Despite being outnumbered, Medas, Vianna, and Crimson held their ground. Their resolve was unshakable, fueled by their loyalty to Morvane.

But the combined might of Levan, Deus, Dergo, and Ikana was formidable. The battle teetered on a knife’s edge, and neither side was willing to relent.

As the dust settled momentarily, the rulers stared each other down, their breaths ragged but their spirits unbroken.

This was no longer just a battle—it was a war for survival, loyalty, and the future of their world.

The battlefield, once filled with the clash of powers and unrelenting tension, now fell eerily silent. Dust hung in the air, and all the rulers—friends and foes alike—stood motionless, their breaths shallow.

A thunderous thud echoed across the garden, shaking the ground beneath their feet.

Ikana’s eyes widened as she scanned the horizon. "What’s that?"

Another deafening thud. The ground trembled, threatening to crack open.

"Who’s causing this?" Dergo growled, his fists clenched.

Thud. Thud. The rhythm was ominous, each tremor stronger than the last.

"This isn’t a simple quake," Vianna said, her voice taut with unease.

Levan’s sharp gaze swept the area. "It sounds like something massive is walking. Heavy footsteps."

Medas frowned. "But nothing that large should exist... not in Ketamran."

Then it came—the seventh and loudest thud. The sound was deafening, reverberating through the garden like an explosion. The air vibrated with an unsettling frequency, silencing even the rustle of leaves.

All eyes turned toward Ketamran’s heart, less than half a kilometer away.

The rulers froze.

Towering above the kingdom was a massive, stone-like statue—a masked figure with celestial wings etched into its form. It radiated an ancient, otherworldly aura, standing at least 500 meters tall by Ikana’s estimate. Its face was obscured by an intricate mask of gold and ivory, exuding both majesty and terror.

"What... what is this?" Dergo whispered, his voice uncharacteristically shaken.

Vianna’s lips parted in disbelief. "That’s not a statue... It’s something more."

The figure’s stance was regal yet ominous. In its right hand, it clutched a colossal trumpet carved from shimmering obsidian. The trumpet glowed faintly, as though holding the power to reshape the world.

"Why is it holding a trumpet?" Crimson demanded, his katana still in hand. "What does this mean?"

Levan’s expression darkened. "Trumpets are symbols of judgment. If this is what I think it is..."

Ikana’s voice trembled. "Then we’re witnessing something biblical. The arrival of a celestial herald."

Medas’s heart raced. "This doesn’t look good."

Suddenly, a low hum resonated from the air, vibrating through the atmosphere. The sound was neither entirely audible nor silent—it was something felt deep in the bones.

The rulers exchanged uneasy glances. All enmity between them seemed insignificant now.

"This isn’t just Ketamran’s problem," Vianna whispered. "It’s everyone’s."

As the masked angel stood in eerie silence, its intentions unclear, a foreboding chill crept into the hearts of the rulers.

Whatever this being was, it had come for a purpose. And the world might never be the same again.