Read Novel Full Chapter 485: Warborn [1]
Chapter 485: Chapter 485: Warborn [1]
Chapter 485 – Warborn [1]
While Kaden was undergoing the process of reclaiming his heart, beside the remains of his grandfather, the Warborn were still mourning the death of Raven.
Back in Darklore, under the darkness of the night shrouding the whole Stronghold of Waverith, Garos sat at the edge of his bed — back hunched inward, his great shoulders no longer what they were, his head buried in his hands.
The room was dark, lit only by a small crimson light hovering in the middle like a jellyfish, shadows dancing stiffly at the edges. A tense silence permeated the walls and floor alike, as if space itself was holding its breath.
And that was exactly what was happening.
Space was no longer an abstract concept in that room. It had hardened into a physical wall, encasing the whole room in a suffocating atmosphere that would have choked and killed a master-ranked being as easily as the sea killed a drowning man.
All of it was the turbulent emotions of Garos.
“He is gone.” He finally said after an unknown stretch of silence, his voice nothing like anyone knew of him.
Small, almost meek. Unbefitting to a man of his size.
His words were addressed to Serena, who was leaning her back against the headboard, her face cycling through dismay and into sadness.
She clenched her teeth at the sound of his voice, a tremor running through her frozen body.
Letting out a shaky breath that did nothing for the pain clawing at her chest, she pressed her palms into the bed — her hands sank in — and crawled herself beside him.
“He is gone, Serena.” Garos spoke again, voice more broken, just as Serena wrapped her arms around him from behind. Yet he only trembled, her warmth doing nothing for the coldness rising in him.
“I know.” Serena whispered, fighting uselessly to stop her own body from shaking. “I can feel it too, Garos. Your father. My uncle. He is dead.”
“How is it possible?” Garos wheezed, head still in his hands. “How could he die? You know him, Serena. You know him.”
Serena’s heart shattered the more he spoke, his voice edging closer and closer to breaking.
“No one could match him at his level. No one could even touch him if he didn’t want it!” His voice rose to a fever pitch, and the space around them began to crack like glass. “He was chosen! He—!”
“Garos!” Serena tightened her hold, feeling his body contract the same way the whole of Waverith was trembling under his wrath knotted with grief.
“Don’t lose control over your power.” She pleaded. “Don’t let Space lure you into its boundless wrath.”
Because that was what was happening. The very concept of Space was furious, furious at losing the one it had chosen, wanting to lash out until it could settle. That was all it wanted. To mourn.
But Serena knew it was not a good idea. They had responsibilities. People to protect. They couldn’t let emotion rule them, no matter the situation.
Garos knew. He damn well knew.
Yet he still couldn’t stop it.
The space around him fractured, transforming into a silver void, then swallowed him whole. Before Serena could follow, Space itself rejected her presence and took only Garos.
The Void Empress stumbled forward and fell to the floor. She knelt on the red carpet, alone in her own room, wearing her red nightgown, her husband gone to quench his grief through destruction.
‘Serena…’ her Origin Weapon, Nixie, spoke hesitantly. ‘…please. Not you too. Don’t—!’
‘Shut your mouth, Nixie.’ Serena growled, her black eyes spitting wisps of void.
The reality beneath her feet disappeared. Void took its place.
“Lead me to him.” She ordered the Void. “Lead me to my husband.”
The Void churned, laughed sinisterly, then swallowed her whole.
Serena Warborn disappeared.
…
In another part of Waverith, Daela was training inside her own training ground, and then completely stopped, her blood twisting through her veins.
Twin swords in her hands, glowing with blinding pale light, Daela lifted her head, her lone eye trembling as a grim realisation settled over her.
“Grandpa?” She muttered, feeling her bloodline weep as the same words repeated inside her mind.
‘Raven Warborn, Blessed of Space, is dead.’
Her knees gave way instantly, and she was on the floor before she was even aware of it.
Her throat burned as if acid had been poured inside. She coughed, coughed again, eyes tearing. She stretched her mouth wide open and vomited everything she had eaten that day, her face sickly pale and damp with sweat despite the freezing night air.
Her swords whispered mourning words inside her mind — equally grieving the death of Ruyi — but the Empress of Silence heard none of it.
Her head felt like it was being hammered relentlessly, her mind pulling back every moment she had ever lived with her grandfather when she was young…before he disappeared.
His gentle, snarky smile. His relentless pestering for her to learn poetry, telling her that one day when he was gone, she would use it to write him into memory.
She had refused back then, finding unworthy of a Warborn. Now Daela wanted to tear open her heart as regret surged inside.
Raven was a man with a soft yet powerful heart who loved more than anyone, cared more than anyone, and smiled more than anyone.
That was the man who was dead.
A man Daela and all the Warborn had believed immortal, because of his bearing and his Blessing.
Yet he was gone.
At that realisation, Daela let out a high-pitched scream of anguish heard by no one but her own wounded soul, the regret of not cherishing his presence gnawing everything from the inside out.
Her eye rolled back. She lost consciousness completely, falling face first into her own vomit, unseen by anyone except her weapons.
…
“Oh…” Dain whispered, pressing his hand to his chest where his heart was. It hammered against his palm as if trying to tear its way out.
He closed his eyes tightly, suppressing the tears threatening to fall, his body quivering subtly.
‘Dain…’ his Origin Weapon, Ragnar, muttered with worry. Griffin stayed unusually silent, unable to say a single word.
The Heir of Warborn neither responded nor cried. He opened his eyes, swallowed everything down, and looked in front of him.
There, a golden fox sat on a throne of multicoloured flowers, three tails swaying lazily behind her, watching Dain with cold, foxy eyes.
“What were you saying, human?” She said wearily, voice disdainful. “We already told you, didn’t we?”
She narrowed her eyes. “We will not accept the deal you proposed. Not until you allow the Church of ‘I’ to install itself in your Stronghold.”
“Is that the Prophet’s terms?” Dain replied in a low whisper, his tone strangely ominous.
The golden fox — a member of the Nirvana Fox Tribe — knitted her eyebrows tightly, feeling the tension and the coiling sense of danger around him in that moment.
She hesitated. Then shook her head. ‘He is not foolish enough to attack me in our own home.’
Confidence recovered, she opened her mouth and spat, “Yes, it is. So—!”
“Is that so.” Dain’s voice was so soft the fox shivered.
He tilted his head at her, his face like stone, stripped of all the amusement she had seen in him over the past days.
His eyes began to glow — a calm, far too calm, golden fire.
Before the golden fox could even open her mouth to scream…
SCREEECHHH—!
“Negotiations over, then.”
Griffin answered his master’s wrath eagerly, and everything became fire and screams within seconds.
Dain Warborn, Heir of War, attacked the Nirvana Fox Tribe alone.
—End of Chapter 485—
We have been low on Golden Tickets months now. Please, support this poor author.
Things will speed up. Waverith will enter into action. Kaden will be back, better. Inara is not forgotten. Neither Sora and Meris.
Monsters will act like monsters.
Bonus chapters will be added if we reach Top 50.