Chapter 3.7
Although Osmund had healed most of her larger wounds, due to the seriousness of her injuries, Aurora remains dazed and dizzy, coming in and out of consciousness. She couldn’t even work up the energy to stay awake for a while and eat dinner. Suddenly, just as she is lightly dozing, she detects something odd. After surviving in intensely dangerous situations and fighting countless battles, Aurora had developed a keen, beast-like intuition. And this sixth sense is currently blaring in alarm, causing her hairs to stand on end.
Eyes snapping open, the first thing she does is wrap her hands around the weapon strapped to her waist. Though she was still feeling weak, Aurora swiftly enters her combat mentality. Pushing herself upright with one knee on the ground, she stares at the entrance, preparing to intercept anyone who charges in.
But after waiting for a long time, her surroundings remain the same, devoid of the slightest sound of activity. Contrary to what she is seeing, the sense of impending doom heightens. Only then does Aurora have the mind to take in her surroundings and judge the present situation.
Outside the hollowed trunk, the gloomy purple sky has darkened further, and seems a little weirder than before. The black clouds converge together, creating a large, demonic face hanging high above, gazing down on the lands below. On the other side of the entrance, Osmund stands motionless, back facing Aurora. His entire body is stretched taut. His gentle and mild bearing is gone, replaced by a sharp edge. And Nardred...
Where did Nardred go?!
Alarmed, Aurora abruptly leaps to her feet. Indeed, the familiar slender, elven figure is nowhere to be seen. Hurrying over to Osmund, she inquires anxiously, "Where’s Nardred?!"
"......He went out," Osmund replies serenely with a trace of secrecy, but Aurora doesn’t have the time nor patience to decipher the meaning behind his words.
"Went out?! And he hasn’t returned yet?!" Aurora yells, stamping her foot in frustration. "It’s so dangerous out there, how can you allow him to go out alone?! No, I have to search for him!"
Despite her physically weak state, Aurora draws her sword and dashes out of the tree trunk. Lips thinning, Osmund follows close behind wordlessly.
As soon as she dragged the answer of which direction Nardred was last seen heading towards, she rushes forward, calling out the elf’s name as she remains on high alert.
Of course, there is no reply. But what really makes one worry is that the previously aggressive plants and animals rampaging unbridled before are now withdrawing in on themselves, trembling with fear. With every living being here frightened into a motionless state, the two of them are naturally not met with trouble. Instead of soothing their anxiety, it makes them more uneasy. Evidently, whatever it is behind this sudden chill and darkness is extremely daunting. So intimidating that the brainless, violent beings in the dark lands can’t help but be afraid.
Aurora has a bad premonition that the further she walks in this direction, the closer it will bring her to the origin of this dangerous energy. If Nardred is really around here somewhere...there is bound to be a disaster awaiting them.
Nevertheless, Aurora and Osmund don’t pause in their steps due to cowardliness. In Aurora’s heart, they are all comrades. Therefore, even if they are threatened with the possibility of dying, they still cannot abandon a friend to their fate.
"......It’s the source of darkness," Osmund utters from beside Aurora, a trace of disbelief in his voice.
"Source of darkness?" Aurora frowns, glancing at the other man for clarification.
"It is where all the negative emotions in the world are gathered. A single point where the most sinister, sordid and savage beings are born, as well as...the most powerful," Osmund explains. "Someone woke the source of darkness."
"You said someone - " Aurora’s eyes widen. "You don’t mean Nardred, right?!"
"I don’t know." Osmund shakes his head. "I pray it isn’t."
"It certainly can’t be!" Gritting her teeth, Aurora states firmly. "Nardred will absolutely not awaken something so dangerous, unless he had no alternative!"
Glancing at Aurora, he takes in the young lady’s pale face full of worry, concern and hope. There is no trace of hesitation, doubt or fear. Clearly, she holds great trust in her two companions, and treats them with utmost sincerity.
Both fall silent, then speed as quickly as they can towards where the source of darkness lies.
As the oppressive force of darkness becomes more intense, pure and holy radiance wraps around Osmund’s body to resist corrosive mass exuding from the dark power. Because Aurora doesn’t possess such abilities, she can only rely on her wind magic to provide her with warmth and try to dispel the back mist surrounding her. However, the results yielded is extremely poor. Gradually, greenish-black stains appear on her face, but she relentlessly charges forth.
When they arrive at the place where this source of darkness is located, they eventually discover the figure they have been seeking with all their hearts and minds.
The black-haired elf is kneeling on the ground, hunched in on himself as agonised groans rumble low in his throat. Thick, black mist envelops him, slowly seeping into his body. Mysterious black runes begin to mar his pale skin, each character saturated with dark power that induces instinctive fear in people.
"Nardred!" Aurora yells, dashing towards the elf. Before she even reaches the mid-way mark, she is blocked and thrown away by the black mist.
Incapable of breaking through the barrier unarmed, she lifts her sword and brings it down in a heavy downward swing, trying in vain to tear through this obstacle. Repeatedly calling Nardred’s name over and over, she desperately prays for him to fight off the darkness, or at the very least, raise his head and respond in some way.
Contrary to Aurora’s near-frenzied response to seeing Nardred in this situation, Osmund remains a couple of paces away from the black barrier, calm and collected as he studies it carefully. Only until Aurora has exhausted her strength, supported by her sword as she pants heavily does he finally move.
The dazzling light shrouding Osmund’s body increases in intensity as the darkness becomes denser. Light meets dark, one resisting the other as both seek to dominate. His face gradually pales, but his steps never falter. Little by little he advances, closing the distance between him and Nardred.
Aurora stops in her pointless one-sided hacking, staring at Osmund with eyes full of anticipation and fragile hope. Praying that he will succeed in bringing Nardred back. Being the Holy Son of the Heavenly race, he is the most treasured child of the Gods. If there’s anyone who can pull the elf away from this taint, Osmund will be it.
However, things don’t unfold as smoothly as she would like. Just as Osmund’s hand is about to touch Nardred’s shoulder, the elf fiercely swats it away.
Recoiling, Osmund steps backwards in surprise, watching wordlessly as Nardred slowly straightens. The elf’s originally bright, golden irises have already transformed to a dark, bloodthirsty red, a frantic, ruthless look gleaming in his eyes. His painful shuddering stops, allowing him to stand ramrod straight, an imposing aura replacing his discreet demeanour. The faint smirk playing on his lips make him seem all the more foreign.
Loathed as Aurora is to admit, she knows deep down that her friend Nardred is gone, never to return.
Her friend who may appear cold, apathetic, and distant is actually a soft, shy and lonely individual. The elf who would learn swordsmanship from her so seriously, who was diligent, hardworking and attentive is now gone. Replaced by a demonic entity.
"Oh, both of you came? Osmund, Aurora." Nardred eventually speaks. Although the voice itself hasn’t changed, the chilly tone causes goose bumps to break out on one’s skin.
"Nardred...exactly what is happening here..." Aurora’s voice shudders as her vision blurs. Blinking with the intention to clear it instead results in teardrops rolling down her cheeks.
"Hmm? Are you talking about this?" Nardred lifts a hand to eye-level, casting appreciative glances over the black runes decorating his skin. "I wanted to be strong, and I’ve finally achieved my heart’s desire. Shouldn’t you congratulate me?"
"Nardred! You know this is wrong!" Aurora shouts. "Why - why would you - "
"Return with me." Osmund interrupts the young lady’s words, tone smooth and steady as he stares at Nardred. "You have been tainted by darkness and require purification."
"Don’t take me for a fool," Nardred scoffs disdainfully. "Purification? Isn’t that setting me up to die? I haven’t yet lived my life fully!"
"You wouldn’t die!" Osmund insists, stepping forward to grab his arm. "Trust me, I will not let you die. I will always accompany you!"
"As if I will believe you!" Nardred recoils away from the other man, expression hardening. "Moreover, what will happen to me once I am purified? Even if I do not die, I will still be forced to live in hell! I’ve had enough of being weak, of being humiliated by everyone!"
"I will always be by your side. No one will be able to humiliate you anymore." This promise is delivered in a firm, unwavering tone.
"Me too! I will definitely help you to the best of my abilities!" Aurora pitches in instantly.
"I don’t need anyone." Nadred remains unmoved. "The only one I can trust is myself. The only thing I can believe in is my own strength."
Seemingly unwilling to waste his breath, the elf turns to leave. Azure irises shrink, and Osmund moves forward with the intention to halt him. However, it only serves to infuriate Nardred.
Black mist congeals into a double-edged dagger that lashes out at Osmund, slicing a piece off the long, white sleeve. Glaring murderously, he snarls, "As I owe you a life-debt, I will let you off this once. However, if you attempt to stop me again, I will not be lenient!"
Gaze locked on Nardred, a deeply grieved expression crossed Osmund’s attractive face. After a moment of tensed silence, his sceptre rises. "I have to stop you. I cannot bear to watch you fall deeper to the darkness."
"Heheh..." Soft, mocking laughter falls from Nardred’s mouth. "You are welcomed to try. I am no longer that feeble and powerless Nardred!"
Saying thus, he darts towards Osmund like a bolt of black lightning. Sharp blade clashes with the shaft of the sceptre twice. As Nardred pulls his arm back for a third strike, Osmund draws a sword from his sceptre and swings it in a horizontal slice. Deftly dropping into a half-crouch to duck under the blade, the elf’s free hand swipes out. Everything in their vicinity withers, save for the Holy Son wrapped in brilliant tendrils of light.
Standing a distance away from the ensuing clash, Aurora thought about intervening time and again. Nonetheless, she refrains from doing so as she is well aware that her currently skills are insufficient to stop either of them. Hence, she is left to fret, afraid that one of them will come out of it mortally wounded. However, in a duel to the death, there will always be a victor and a loser. Unless, of course, both sides suffer.
Dark magic lashes out aggressively, aiming to maim and injure. However, the light magic only rises to protect its wielder and seek to restrain its foe, as if unwilling to bring any harm to the other party. In the end, a black blade sinks into Osmund’s chest, rendering him unable to continue fighting.
"Osmund!" Aurora cries out, lifting her sword and rushing to his side, wanting to block the dark, bloodied blade striking downwards once more. A shame that she is too far away, only able to watch in horror as the dagger heads unerringly for the slender neck - and stopping a hair’s breadth away.
A thin line of red appears on Osmund’s fair skin, but the Holy Son doesn’t look away, staring at the elf with eyes full of affection and deep, surging emotions.
A curtain of long, black hair obscured Nardred’s face from view. The weapon in his hands doesn’t waver in the slightest, looking for all the world like a statue.
Aurora halts mid-charge, not daring to breathe as sorrow, distress and a sliver of hope wars within her heart.
Nardred did not kill Osmund. He still retains his feelings, no matter how small a piece it is.
Under Aurora’s apprehensive gaze, Nardred eventually moves. Swiftly retreating backwards, he eyes Osmund coldly. "I’ll spare your life this time, but not the next."
Osmund opens his mouth to reply, but what comes out is a series of coughs, blood staining his white robes. With no desire to stick around and hear what the injured man has to say, Nardred whirls on his heels and stalks off.
Hurrying over, Aurora props up Osmund’s swaying body, hand on his arm to prevent him from continuing to chase after Nardred. Then she lifts her head and abruptly yells at the retreating figure, "Nardred! I know you still remember! I know you still harbour feelings for Osmund! Am I right?!"
Nardred steps freeze for a split-second, but he doesn’t turn back. His silhouette vanishes into the dense fog a moment later, leaving behind the friends he made throughout this journey to stare helplessly in the direction he disappeared into as if waiting for a miracle.
- But the miracle will never come.
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