The party, now restored from their previous battles, pressed onward into the Black Witch’s domain. The surrounding forest seemed to shift and darken with each step, as if protesting their intrusion. No trace of monsters could be found here, only the quiet rustle of corrupted leaves and the crunch of brittle bones underfoot. Skeletal remains, stripped clean of flesh and blood, littered the ground, turning the once vibrant forest into a grim graveyard of silent witnesses.
A hush fell over the group as they advanced, each member feeling the weight of unseen eyes tracking their every move. A malignant energy permeated the air, pressing against their senses, and it took all their focus not to succumb to the dread creeping at the edges of their minds.
Cyrus broke the silence with a wry comment, his tone low but carrying easily in the oppressive hush. “I know you’re the hero, Noah, but you’ve garnered the attention of far too many powerful beings. Two gods, a Great Old One, and arguably the strongest non-divine, or primordial alive. Your luck… or perhaps fate… is unsettlingly impressive.”
Ava, clinging gently to Noah’s arm, offered a contrasting warmth against the gloomy backdrop. “That’s just how my Noah is,” she said, her voice soothing. “His charisma can gather the attention of anyone, be it gods or monsters.” She rested her head against his shoulder, attempting to ease some of the tension.
Adam exhaled, glancing back at the pair. “Please, lovebirds. Save the cuddling for after the mission.” His voice was firm, but there was a note of amusement hidden in it. He turned his gaze forward, scanning the shadows for threats.
Noah gave a soft nod, his eyes narrowing as he surveyed the dark forest. “Don’t worry,” he said quietly. “I have no intention of lowering my guard. Not in a place like this.”
A few paces behind, Lucy’s eyes drifted toward Cyrus. She spoke softly to herself, almost inaudible in the gloom. “I wonder if I could get that close to Cyrus…”
Cyrus, ever vigilant, caught the murmur. “Lucy, did you say something?” he asked, curious but unaware of her intent.
Flushing slightly, Lucy shook her head quickly. “Oh, nothing, nothing at all,” she insisted, averting her gaze as her cheeks warmed. Cyrus shrugged and continued forward, dismissing the odd exchange.
Ava, attuned to the subtle dynamics within the group, leaned in to whisper to Noah, “She definitely likes him, don’t you think?”
Noah glanced back at Lucy and Cyrus, their silhouettes faint in the dim light, then gave a noncommittal shrug. “Maybe. I’m not really sure.”
Ava sighed dramatically, stifling a giggle in the eerie silence. “So dense,” she teased. “When this is all over, we really need to play matchmaker.”
Noah couldn’t help but return her smile, if only for a moment. “Sure. Whatever makes you happy,” he replied, voice softer than before.
After venturing deeper into the Black Witch’s territory, the group emerged into a wide clearing. At its center stood a massive castle that seemed to loom out of time itself. Moss and vines crept across its stone walls, weaving elaborate patterns as though the building had grown from the forest’s heart rather than been constructed by mortal hands. Its towering spires brushed the canopy overhead, their silhouettes lost in the perpetual gloom. If the stories were true, this castle had stood here since the era of the First Apocalypse, a silent witness to centuries of strife and suffering.
A heavy, ornate gate—thick with wrought iron vines and twisted flora-like motifs—barred their entry. Yet in front of that gate, sat a single figure on the mossy floor, absorbed in a book. As the party approached, the stranger lazily turned a page, entirely uninterested in their arrival.
The man’s long purple hair fell around his shoulders, framing emerald eyes set in sclera of pitch black. His clothing was a simple black cloak, and white gloves covered his hands with meticulous neatness. Most unsettling, however, was the large scorpion tail curling behind him, its wicked stinger glinting even in the dim light. Scattered around him were numerous books, worn and dog-eared, as if he’d spent endless hours here indulging in quiet reading.
Noah, Ava, Cyrus, Adam, and Lucy studied him warily, weapons ready, tension filling the silent courtyard. The stranger slowly raised his gaze from the pages, his eyes narrowed with annoyance rather than fear.
“I really didn’t want to have to do my job,” the man said, his voice a drawl of disinterest. “What a pain.”
He rose to his feet, dusting off his cloak. His tail twitched, a subtle warning that he was no harmless bystander. He gently placed the romance novel he’d been reading—a lackluster love story about a mind-reading girl falling head-over-heels—on top of a small stack of equally mediocre paperbacks.
“The name’s Azio,” he continued, sighing heavily. “It’s not great to meet you. Do yourselves a favor and leave. I hate doing this.”
Noah frowned, stepping forward. “Then why don’t you quit? If you don’t want to do this, why stand in our way at all?”
Azio’s lips twisted into a sour smile. “If I could, I would. But that damned Black Witch would kill me if I abandoned my post. So here we are.” He spread his arms, giving a half-hearted shrug that said everything about his predicament.
Cyrus snorted, crossing his arms. “We’ll kill you if you don’t step aside. At least you have a fighting chance if you run now.”
Azio clicked his tongue, eyes narrowing. “I’ll take my chances with you novices.” He lifted his gloved hands, and a purple aura flared around his forearms. “Ability activate: Psycho Cutter.”
The aura shaped itself into two shimmering blades, violet arcs of energy that crackled with psychic might. Azio’s body tensed, suddenly serious, as he rushed forward without warning.
Noah barely dodged the initial slash, a blur of violet radiance passing just inches from his face. Azio’s speed was astonishing, utterly at odds with his earlier, lazy demeanor, and the near-miss left Noah’s heart pounding. He braced himself, gripping his sword tighter as he prepared for the next strike.
The rest of the party tried to move in, hoping to overwhelm Azio with numbers. But the scorpion-tailed warlock only smirked, raising his tail high. “No you don’t,” Azio said casually, “Warlock Curse: Hellfire.”
With those words, a surge of purple flames erupted from his tail, spiraling outward in a fiery vortex. The flames formed a searing ring that encircled Noah and Azio, cutting off the rest of the party. The eerie glow lit up the grim forest, painting the skeletal remains on the ground in sinister shadows.
Ava cried out as she and the others were forced back by the intense heat. Cyrus narrowed his eyes. “Of course he’s a king’s candidate. Noah, be careful, he’s one of the black mist. Only the most skilled king’s candidates can pull off this kind of ability!”
“Would’ve been nice to know earlier,” Noah muttered, teeth gritted. He lunged at Azio, his blade cutting through the warlock’s flesh, only to watch in shock as the black blood that spilled recoiled and flowed back into the wound, sealing it instantly.
“He’s a warlock, how annoying,” Adam growled from behind the barrier of fire. “At least he’s not a monarch type.”
Cyrus’s voice was muffled by the roar of the flames. “I’m a dark knight type, and my ice should shield me. I’ll join Noah inside. The rest of you, stand by and wait.” He reached into a pocket, pulling out a plague doctor’s mask and placing it over his face.
As Cyrus spoke, a dramatic transformation overtook him. Black liquid seeped over his lab coat, devouring it until not a stitch of white remained. His attire became completely pitch-black, and sleek, obsidian-like blades extended from his sleeves. The new armor and cloak he wore gave him a formidable, shadowy appearance, accented by the raven-feathered plague mask that now concealed his features. He looked like a harbinger of death itself.
With a determined stride, Cyrus stepped into the flames. They flared hungrily around him, but his newfound darkness and ice abilities shielded him from harm. It was as though the flames parted for him, grudgingly allowing him entry.
Azio tilted his head, curiosity sparking in his emerald eyes. “A black knight? Why would another king’s candidate fight me? The Black Witch outlawed us from fighting each other,” he said, tone half-amused, half-perplexed.
Cyrus’s voice hissed through the mask, cold and mocking. “I’m here to hunt her and rob her blind. What makes you think I care about her rules?”
Azio chuckled darkly, amused despite himself. “Fair enough. Then I suppose I’ll just have to kill you two first,” he said, a whisper of a grin on his face as he summoned black flames from his tail. He used them to melt the shards of ice Cyrus hurled at him.
Noah seized the opening Cyrus created. He channeled dark energy into his blade, the metal now wreathed in shadows. Each swing sent arcs of inky darkness through the inferno, aimed straight at Azio. At the same time, Cyrus carved ice weapons from the air, launching spears and daggers of frozen crystal at their opponent.
Azio danced between them, purple aura flaring around his arms. He parried Cyrus’s ice with whips of black flame and bent impossibly low to avoid Noah’s slashes, his tail striking out to deflect a dark bolt of energy. Though outnumbered two-to-one, he moved with serpentine grace, never losing his wry smile.
Azio’s stance shifted, the violet aura around his arms flaring brighter as he prepared another strike. His psycho cutters glowed with malevolent energy, the edges crackling like distant thunder. With the ring of hellfire still searing the surrounding space, the battlefield was claustrophobic, forcing them all closer to the heat and each other.
Cyrus stepped forward, intending to close the gap, but Azio’s tail lashed out, spitting black flames that burst upward, forming a temporary wall of infernal fire. Cyrus snarled behind his plague doctor mask, thrusting his palm forward and conjuring razor-sharp ice shards. The shards hissed as they struck the flames, evaporating into bursts of steam before reaching their target. Azio smirked, satisfied with how easily he kept the dark knight at bay.
Meanwhile, Noah found himself face-to-face with Azio. The warlock lunged, psycho cutters slashing in a brutal cross pattern. Noah ducked low beneath the first strike, his heart pounding as the second blade passed perilously close to his chest. Violet sparks leapt from Azio’s cutters, casting jagged shadows on Noah’s face. He could smell the raw energy in the air.This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
Noah retaliated with a swift upward slash of his own blade, wrapped in dark energy. Azio twisted aside, narrowly avoiding the strike, but this time Noah pressed his advantage, following with a downward cut that forced Azio to jerk his head back. The two exchanged blows in a deadly rhythm—slash, parry, dodge—each testing the other’s limits.
Cyrus tried again to break through the wall of black fire, summoning a curved scythe of ice in one hand. He hurled it like a spinning blade, hoping to carve a path, but the flames intensified at Azio’s silent command. The ice weapon melted mid-flight, droplets scattering uselessly at Cyrus’s feet. Cyrus cursed under his breath. He could hear the clash of steel and aura behind that barrier, growing more frantic with every passing moment.
With a sudden surge, Azio advanced on Noah. “Psycho Cutter: Crescent Fang!” he roared, swinging both arms in a swift, overlapping arc. The blades of violet energy rushed forth in a half-moon shape, forcing Noah on the defensive. Noah raised his sword, and the dark energy around it thickened, absorbing some impact, but the force still drove him a step back. His muscles burned, and sweat trickled down the side of his face.
Azio capitalized on Noah’s momentary retreat, lunging again. He feinted left, then brought his right cutter in low. Noah barely deflected in time, sparks dancing off their blades. Azio’s emerald eyes gleamed, his sclera so black they seemed to drink in the light. He pressed even harder, forcing Noah’s sword arm to tremble under the strain.
On the other side of the flame barrier, Cyrus narrowed his eyes. He was done playing this game. He concentrated, and the surrounding air cooled drastically, the sudden chill pushing back against the heat. With a grunt of effort, he shaped a long, needle-like spear of frost and hurled it at the barrier. This time he poured more energy than before. The spear struck the black flames with a thunderous hiss, drilling through inch by inch.
Azio’s tail twitched in annoyance as he felt the resistance give. He diverted a portion of his concentration to reinforce the hellfire, thickening it once more. In that instant, Noah took the opening—a small hesitation in Azio’s relentless assault—and lashed out with a horizontal slash infused with darkness. The blade caught Azio’s shoulder, slicing through cloth and drawing a line of black ichor that bubbled and hissed.
Azio winced, staggering slightly, but the wound sealed almost as fast as it had opened. “Persistent… but you’re losing ground, Hero,” Azio said through clenched teeth.
Noah’s breathing was labored, but he refused to give in. He mustered what strength he had, channeling a burst of dark energy through his sword and swiping at Azio’s midsection. The warlock slid back, his psycho cutters spinning in a defensive pattern to ward off any follow-up strikes.
It was a dance of lethal elegance—Noah’s blade of darkness against Azio’s violet psycho cutters. Each clash echoed in the fiery ring, sparks, and embers swirling. Azio glanced momentarily at his flaming barrier and saw small cracks forming where Cyrus battered it with relentless frost attacks from outside. He needed to resolve this fight soon.
“Enough,” Azio hissed, stepping in with a flurry of slashes that forced Noah’s arms to ache with each parry. The hero’s sword rattled under the impacts, and he was forced into a retreat, step by desperate step.
A triumphant gleam shone in Azio’s eyes. He feinted high, drawing Noah’s guard upward, then pivoted gracefully, aiming his other cutter low at Noah’s leg. Noah realized the trap too late. He tried to shift his weight, but Azio was already inside his guard, psycho cutter angled for a crippling blow.
Behind the flames, Cyrus let out a frustrated growl, sending another barrage of icy blades at the barrier, desperately trying to break through in time to help. But as the clash intensified within that fiery circle, it was only Noah, Azio, and the choking tension of battle that filled the space.
Noah gritted his teeth, feeling the sting of Azio’s relentless attacks. The violet psycho cutters had chipped away at his strength, leaving him breathless and battered. He staggered back, clutching his side—but as he did, a familiar warmth surged through his veins. His innate draconic ability stirred awake, radiating through his body.
White scales began to form across his arms and shoulders, reflecting the glare of the encircling flames. His wounds knit together, healed by the mysterious draconic power coursing within him. Noah inhaled sharply, regaining his composure. His eyes, now glowing faintly, flickered with renewed energy and resolve.
Azio tilted his head, momentarily startled by Noah’s sudden rejuvenation. “Still fighting? You really don’t know when to quit, Hero.”
Noah said nothing, instead raising his blade as radiant energy coalesced at the back of his throat. The air crackled with intensity, sparks of light dancing around his weapon. Taking a firm stance, he channeled his power.
“Light Dragon Roar!” he yelled, voice echoing through the flaming prison. A brilliant burst of incandescent light erupted from his mouth, a concentrated beam of pure radiance that struck Azio at point-blank range. The force slammed into the warlock’s chest, blasting him off his feet and hurling him backward.
Azio soared through the air, momentarily dazed and vulnerable. The flames of his barrier flickered and dimmed under the sudden shock of Noah’s attack.
Cyrus seized his chance. With a fierce cry, he drove an icy spear into the weakened wall of black fire. The hellfire buckled, cracks spider webbing across the blazing ring. With a shuddering hiss, the flames sputtered out, and Cyrus dashed through, obsidian blades of ice at the ready.
Azio twisted midair, trying to regain his balance, but Cyrus moved with predatory swiftness. He sliced cleanly through Azio’s body, cutting him in half with a resonant slash that echoed in the now flame-free clearing. For a moment, Azio’s two halves drifted apart, black mist spilling into the air.
But as quickly as he had been dismembered, Azio reformed. The black mist knitted his body together, restoring him in an instant. Azio’s emerald eyes flashed with annoyance.
“Persistent fools,” he hissed, raising his psycho cutters again. “I’ll tear you apart until you have nothing left to heal.”
Cyrus met his gaze, his expression calm behind the plague doctor mask. He extended a hand, and the temperature plummeted. Frost crawled across the ground, transforming dust and debris into shimmering crystals. Azio lunged, but his movement slowed as ice began to cling to his legs, then his waist.
“What—?” Azio gasped, struggling as the frigid aura enveloped him. He tried to summon black flames to melt the ice, but Cyrus intensified his focus, channeling all his power into a single, crushing stroke of elemental might.
In a heartbeat, the ice surged up Azio’s body, encasing his chest, his arms, and finally his head. The warlock’s scream died on his lips as his face froze in a mask of shocked fury, his psycho cutters dissolving into harmless sparks against the thick ice.
Noah, still partly scaled and glowing with draconic energy, watched in stunned relief. The fight had taken its toll on both of them, but it was done now. With Azio sealed in a block of crystal-clear frost, immobile and defeated, the path to the castle’s massive gate was clear.
Cyrus exhaled slowly, the tension leaving his shoulders. He looked at Noah, giving a curt nod. “Let’s move on,” he said quietly, the final echoes of battle fading into the silent forest.
Noah nodded, the white scales fading from his skin. Together, they turned toward the ancient castle, determined to face whatever awaited them inside.
Before they advanced further into the castle’s looming gate, Ava held up a hand, her expression thoughtful. “Cyrus, earlier you mentioned different classes of king’s candidates. Can you give us a quick rundown before we go inside? We need every edge we can get.”
Cyrus nodded, adjusting his plague doctor mask now dangling from his belt. “There are three main classes that king’s candidates align with. You can multi-class, sure, but it usually dilutes your strength. First, there’s my class: the Dark Knight. We harness black mist to form hardened armor on our bodies—both offense and defense rolled into one. That Azio we fought? He was a Warlock type, using the black mist to cast curses and conjurations, like those flames he trapped us with. Lastly, we have the Monarchs. They’re rare and incredibly dangerous. Monarchs shape the black mist into soldiers—creatures that can only be truly destroyed by targeting their core. I suspect the Black Witch herself is a Monarch.”
Ava absorbed this information, her brow furrowing. “That makes sense. Monarchs sound the worst to deal with. In that case…” She glanced at Noah and Cyrus, both of whom looked worn down from the fight with Azio. Noah’s breathing came in soft, ragged intervals, and Cyrus had a hint of fatigue behind his composed facade. “For the next major battle, you two should hang back. You both look exhausted.”
“We’re perfectly fine,” Noah protested, though he was clearly still catching his breath.
“Yeah, that fight was easy,” Cyrus added, trying to sound casual as he released the darkness coating his attire, reverting to his normal state. Yet a faint tremor in his hand betrayed his weariness.
Adam leveled them both with a knowing stare. “If you rush in tired, you’ll die,” he said firmly. “We need everyone at their best for what’s ahead. Let Ava, Lucy and I handle the brunt of the next big confrontation.”
Lucy hesitated, then gently placed her hands over Cyrus’s, her voice soft and earnest. “Please, Cyrus. Jasper is counting on you. We all need you to make it back safely.” Her cheeks colored slightly as she spoke, her concern deeply sincere.
Cyrus’s eyes widened, caught off guard by Lucy’s gentle touch and heartfelt plea. A faint blush dusted his cheeks. “F-fine,” he relented, looking down at her hands. “If you all insist, I’ll hang back with Noah. Just don’t do anything reckless.”
Noah leaned closer to Ava, whispering with a faint smile. “You’re right, those two would make a good match.”
Ava brightened, pleased. “I knew you’d come around,” she teased quietly, her eyes gleaming with a mix of relief and quiet amusement at their small group’s evolving dynamics.
Stepping into his role as leader, Noah nodded decisively. “Alright. Cyrus and I will stay near the back unless things get dire. I trust the three of you to handle what’s inside. Let’s move.”
They passed through the massive gates into the castle’s interior. The corridor opened into a large meeting hall, silent and grim. The torches that should have lit the space were absent, leaving only faint daylight filtering through cracks in the ancient stone walls. Odd, serpentine shapes coiled about, revealing themselves as sleek, black snakes. Their scales caught what little light there was, glossy and unnerving, each slow hiss echoing in the still air.
The group paused, instincts on high alert. The hush of the hall pressed upon them like a physical weight, the snakes’ soft slithers a mocking whisper of what awaited deeper within. Behind them, the heavy gate closed quietly, sealing them inside the Black Witch’s domain, each step now fraught with hidden perils and the memory of Azio’s fierce resistance lingering on their minds.
Deep within the heart of the castle, in a chamber untouched by light save for the eerie glow of runic lanterns, a woman lounged upon a throne of twisted vines and polished bone. The room smelled faintly of old parchment and faint incense, with thick draperies blocking any sign of day or night.
The woman’s attire was an intricate black cloak stitched with an emerald serpent motif, its pattern shimmering as though the snakes themselves might slither free at any moment. Her skin was milk-pale, contrasting sharply with the dark interior, and her eyes—one purple and serpentine, the other yellow inscribed with a magic circle, peered into a crystal ball hovering before her. Each tiny reflection in the orb danced with the distorted images of the intruders now wandering her halls.
Her hair, if it could be called that, was a writhing mass of black snakes, hissing softly as she absentmindedly ran her fingers through them. Each serpent’s eyes reflected her cunning, and the subtle movements of their forked tongues mirrored her cold, curious thoughts.
Medusa, the Black Witch, leaned forward, resting her chin on the back of her hand, a faint smile playing at the corners of her lips. “Guests,” she murmured softly, her voice smooth and quiet. “It has been so long since I’ve entertained any who dared step this far into my domain.”
She watched the crystal ball intently. Within its depths, the party moved through her castle’s corridors—Noah, Ava, Adam, Lucy, and Cyrus. She observed the remnants of their battles clinging to them, subtle fatigue, yet unwavering determination. Her curiosity sparked when she noted that they had bested Azio, one of her reluctant guardians.
“How interesting,” Medusa purred, the emerald serpents on her cloak seeming to shimmer at her praise. “Azio is no pushover, yet they managed. This will be more entertaining than I expected.”
Her smile faded slightly as she focused on one figure in particular. She studied his stance, his attire, and the aura he emitted. Recognition flared in her mismatched eyes. The serpents in her hair hissed in what might have been surprise.
“Cyrus?” she said, her tone lingering between shock and fear. “What are you doing here?”
For a moment, the chamber grew utterly silent, save for the soft rustle of her snakes and the distant drip of water somewhere deep within the bowels of the fortress. Medusa leaned back, steepling her fingers thoughtfully as she considered the implications of Cyrus’s presence. The crystal ball shimmered, showing the group pressing on, determined and unaware of the eyes that watched them so closely.