Chapter 95: The Price of a Head
The silence that followed Jax's fall was brief, shattered by the guttural roar that ripped from the man's throat as he pushed himself up. The violet runes across his body weren't just glowing now; they were searing, burning with a incandescent fury that made the air around him waver. The scorch mark on his arm was an afterthought. The blow to his chest had done nothing but strip the last vestiges of restraint from a waking titan.
His eyes, pools of molten amethyst, locked onto me. The calculated patience he'd shown against the guards was gone, replaced by a primal, singular intent: to grind me into paste.
He didn't charge. He erupted.
The distance between us vanished. My Acceleration Loop flared on instinct, but it was like trying to outrun a landslide. A fist, moving faster than any blow before, came in a brutal hook. I reinforced my arms, crossing them in a guard. The impact was a thunderclap. My Ki cushion shattered on contact. The force blasted through my guard, my own forearms smashing into my face. I heard my nose break. The world flashed white and red as I was lifted off my feet and hurled backward, crashing into the wall with a sickening crunch of stone and bone. I slid down, vision swimming, the Healing Potion's magic already frantically trying to repair the new, catastrophic damage.
Before I could even draw a ragged breath, he was there. A massive hand closed around my throat and lifted me, slamming me back against the wall, my feet dangling. I clawed at his wrist, my Ki flaring weakly, but it was like trying to bend steel. His other hand, fingers curled into a fist that looked like a granite maul, drew back.
This was it. He was going to punch a hole straight through my chest.
A sphere of fire, smaller and brighter than the last, slammed into the side of Jax's head. Evander, his face a mask of cold fury, was using his staff not for grand displays, but for precise, distracting strikes. The fire burst against Jax's temple, not piercing his defenses, but making him flinch, his grip loosening for a fraction of a second.
It was all I needed. I drove my knees into his chest, Ki-enhanced, not to hurt him, but to push myself backward, tearing my throat from his grasp. I fell to the floor, gasping, blood pouring from my nose.
Jax turned his head slowly towards Evander, a low growl rumbling in his chest. He abandoned me, his new target clear. He took a step towards the Patron.
Evander stood his ground, staff held ready. He was a duelist, not a brawler. He began tracing a complex pattern in the air with the tip of his staff, the blue light weaving a larger, more intricate magic circle. He was going for a finishing blow.
Jax saw the buildup and charged, a purple juggernaut of pure hate.
Evander was ready. As Jax closed the final few feet, the massive axe swinging down in a blow meant to cleave him in two, Evander abandoned his spell. It was a feint. With a sharp, final word, he slammed the butt of his staff into the ground.
A wall of earth, thick and jagged, erupted directly in front of him, angled backward.
Jax, committed to his killing swing, couldn't stop. He hit the earthen wall not head-on, but at an angle. His immense weight and speed worked against him. The wall didn't stop him, but it redirected him. He was deflected sideways, his balance compromised, his charge turned into a stumbling, off-kilter lunge that carried him past Evander, exposing his entire back.
It was a masterful move. A perfect use of a low-tier Earth spell with brilliant timing.
Evander didn't waste it. His staff glowed white-hot. He wasn't weaving a circle now; he was channeling every ounce of power the artifact could hold into a single, focused point. A lance of pure, concentrated fire, no bigger than a needle, shot from the staff's tip. It wasn't meant to explode; it was meant to pierce.
It struck Jax in the back, right between the shoulder blades, where his runes seemed to cluster most densely.
For a moment, nothing happened. Then, Jax let out a scream that was less of pain and more of sheer, outraged violation. The violet glow around the impact point flickered, dimmed, and then shattered. The lance of fire had found a weakness, overloading a key rune. A small, blackened, smoking hole now marred his back. He staggered forward, roaring, his invincibility finally broken. He wasn't down, but he was hurt. Truly hurt.
A triumphant, grim smile touched Evander's lips. He had done it. He had wounded the un-woundable.
It was in that moment of victory, that split-second of confident exhalation, that Silas moved.
He had been a silent, crimson statue, a spectator to the violence. But now, he was a bolt of red lightning. He didn't run; he flowed. The red runes on his body didn't flare for strength or durability. They blazed for pure, unadulterated speed.
He crossed the space between him and Evander in the time it took for the Patron's smile to fully form. There was no war cry, no warning. Just the silent, deadly efficiency of a predator striking at the perfect moment.
Evander's eyes had just enough time to widen in shock before Silas was behind him.
The world froze.
I saw it in horrific, slow-motion detail. Silas, standing in a flawless, extended iaijutsu pose, his body low. Evander, still standing, the triumphant smile still etched on his face. Then, a thin, perfect red line appeared across Evander's throat.
A moment of utter silence.
Then, a torrent of crimson arced through the air, painting the shattered wall behind him. Evander's head, severed cleanly from his shoulders, toppled backward. His body remained upright for a heart-rending second, still clutching the staff, before it crumpled to the ground like a discarded marionette.
The head landed with a soft, final thud.
Silas stood, a faint wisp of steam rising from the simple, unadorned dagger in his hand. He turned his head, his red-glowing eyes sweeping over the scene, and they landed on the three remaining legionnaires still desperately harrying Lyssa.
Their morale, held together by Evander's presence, shattered completely. They saw their patron dead, his head lying in a pool of his own blood. Their fight fled them.
"Lyssa," Silas said, his voice a calm, deadly whisper. "Finish them."
The water mage needed no further encouragement. Freed from the need to maintain her defensive dome, her circle spun violently. Three lances of water, sharper and faster than any before, shot out. They took the stunned legionnaires in the chest, one after another, the pressurized water punching through their armor with brutal efficiency. They fell, joining the rest of the dead.
The corridor was silent again, save for the drip of water and blood. Jax was on one knee, clutching his back, breathing in ragged, pained gasps. Lyssa stood poised, her circle still active. And Silas stood over Evander's corpse, the king of this bloody castle once more.
His gaze, cold and triumphant, swept over Laron, Elara, and the barely-conscious Briza. He was about to give the order. I could see it in his eyes. He was going to reclaim his "merchandise."
This was it. The last chance. There was no plan. No strategy. Only a final, desperate gamble.
Jax was wounded. Lyssa was distracted, her back momentarily to me as she surveyed her handiwork. Silas was savoring his victory.
I forced myself to my feet. Every part of my body screamed in protest. I ignored it. I reached down into the very depths of my being, into the last dregs of the Healing Potion's energy and my own frayed spirit. I grabbed my Ki, not with finesse, but with raw, violent will. I didn't try to form a controlled blast. I didn't have the focus or the energy. I gathered it all, the pain, the fear, the rage into a chaotic, unstable ball of pure force in my palms.
I didn't aim for Silas. I didn't aim for Jax.
I aimed for the ceiling above Lyssa.
With a guttural scream that tore at my injured throat, I shoved my hands forward.
**FWOOM-BOOM!**
It wasn't a clean blast. It was a violent, concussive eruption. A dome of golden energy slammed into the stone ceiling above the water mage. The world dissolved into noise and light. Chunks of rock and mortar rained down, a thick cloud of dust billowing out, engulfing Lyssa, Silas, and Jax in an instant.
Chaos.
"NOW!" I roared, my voice raw.
I didn't look back. I became a blur, the Acceleration Loop burning the last of my Ki. I shot towards the alcove. I didn't stop. I grabbed Laron with one arm and Elara with the other, shoving them violently towards the exit. I didn't have the strength to carry Briza. I just hooked my hands under her arms and dragged her, her boots scraping through the blood and debris, her body a dead weight.
We stumbled, fell, and scrambled through the choking dust, through the shattered corridor, towards the distant sounds of the main concourse and the oblivious City Watch. We didn't look back. We didn't stop.
We had escaped the serpent's jaws, but the cost was unimaginable. Evander was dead. We were battered, broken, and alone. And we had just made an enemy who would burn the world to find us.