The black circle carved into the heart of the city pulsed like a malignant wound. Mana poured into it in violent waves, and at last, with a deafening crack that split the air like thunder, something emerged.
A massive claw the size of a carriage tore through the runic veil. Then another. The ground heaved as a hulking figure pulled itself into the world.
The creature was a turtle-like abomination, but no ordinary beast. Its shell glistened like black obsidian, runes etched deep across its carapace glowing faintly with abyssal purple. Spikes jutted from its sides like jagged mountains, and its eyes burned with a molten, sickly light. Each step it took shook the cobblestones, fissures cracking outward from its weight.
The nobles screamed. Soldiers faltered. Even the Backbone, veterans of countless wars, tensed at the sight.
"Stand firm!" Duke Harrond roared, leaping forward with his iron gauntlet glowing, his fist wrapped in mana. He brought it down with crushing force onto the beast's head.
The impact resounded like a bell. Clang! The ground cratered beneath the turtle's bulk—yet when the dust cleared, the creature hadn't even flinched.
Harrond staggered back, his arm trembling. "What—!?"
Marshal Cyras didn't hesitate. His blade, wreathed in layered mana, slashed down in a cleaving arc meant to split a mountain. Sparks erupted as steel met shell. The sound rang like metal grinding against diamond.
But the blade left not a single mark.
Cyras's eyes widened. "Impossible. Even mithril-forged steel enhanced with aura cannot cut it!"
Kael's masked gaze narrowed. His voice cut through the rising panic like a guillotine.
"No… it is not impossible. It means one thing: this beast is immune to physical damage. Only magic can destroy it."
The words rippled through the ranks, sending a cold chill into every warrior's heart. Half the forces gathered here were trained in steel, not spellcraft.
The turtle abomination bellowed, a sound that rattled glass and made even hardened knights clutch their ears. Its maw opened wide, a swirling orb of violet flame building at the back of its throat.
"Scatter!" Kael barked.
The orb launched like a cannon shot, detonating into the outer square. Entire rows of stone buildings vaporized, leaving nothing but molten craters. The capital's proud plaza became a war zone in a single breath.
While chaos unfolded above, far beneath the city streets, Umbra and the Assassin Leader pressed deeper into Gravemont's hidden ritual chamber.
The underground vault was a sprawling cavern carved by runes, lined with crystalline conduits that funneled energy upward into the summoning circle above. Half-finished glyphs covered the floor, some still smoldering with dark magic.
And at the center, ritual tables littered with parchment, letters, and fragments of correspondence.
Umbra's pale mask turned toward the Assassin Leader, his voice low and steady. "The creature is already loose. Killing Gravemont won't undo this now. Search the chamber—look for solid proof of his treachery, anything tying him to the Abyss."
The Assassin Leader nodded, signaling his men. "Understood. We'll strip it bare."
They fanned out swiftly, trained hands rifling through scrolls and tomes. Umbra himself reached the main table, where a stack of sealed letters bore Gravemont's sigil. Breaking one open, his eyes flicked across the words:
"…contract… Abyssal pact… Prince Elisar's authority…"
His jaw tightened. Proof. Direct proof of royal involvement.
"Take everything," Umbra ordered. "Letters, contracts, arcane logs. Strip the vault of every gold bar, magic crystal, and artifact. Leave nothing behind. If Gravemont wanted the Abyss to fund him, then let us fund Sanctum instead."
The assassins worked with clinical precision, stashing valuables into enchanted sacks. Piles of crystal, gold coins, scrolls, and cursed trinkets vanished into their possession.
Umbra paused, glancing upward as the cavern rumbled with the turtle creature's roar above. His hand rested briefly on the hilt of his dagger.
"Kael…" he whispered. "Hold the line. We'll bring you the blade to sever their lies."
Aboveground, as the nobles fled and soldiers scrambled, Kael stood unmoving, cloak billowing in the abyssal winds, his army of golems slowly tightening formation around the beast.
The mask hid his expression, but his voice rang clear.
"Magic alone will pierce it. Then so be it."
Runes flared across the golems' cores as Kael raised his hand, the battlefield trembling at the command.
The true fight for the capital had begun.
The first volley lit the capital's sky.
Two hundred mana-absorbing golems raised their arms in unison, runes carved into their bodies flaring like molten rivers. Bolts of fire, arcs of lightning, spears of ice, and beams of condensed arcane force streaked through the air, converging on the abyssal turtle.
BOOM—BOOM—BOOM!
Explosions hammered the plaza, waves of flame and frost engulfing the beast. Smoke swallowed the battlefield, the glow of dozens of runes flashing like miniature suns.
The nobles cowered. Even Harrond shielded his eyes, jaw tight with awe.
But when the haze parted—
The turtle still stood.
Its shell gleamed unbroken, shimmering faintly with the violet glow of a warding enchantment. Charred lines scarred the stone beneath its feet, yet its abyssal eyes only burned brighter, as if mocking their efforts.
"Damnation…" Cyras muttered, gripping his useless sword.
"It's absorbing most of the energy," Veloria hissed, her sharp gaze narrowing. "The shell isn't just armor—it's a conduit."
Kael's masked figure stepped forward, cloak snapping in the heated wind. With a flick of his wrist, he summoned a shining staff into his hand—the legendary creation of Braník, veiled under his own name.
He turned to the Archmage, extending it to her.
"Veloria," his voice cut calm through the din, "use this. It was made to shatter magical resistance. If anyone can wound it, it's you."
Her eyes widened as her hand brushed the staff, sensing the dense lattice of enchantments embedded within. She swallowed—then seized it, planting the butt against the ground.
"Then let us test your claim."
Veloria raised the staff, her incantation roaring through the chaos. Circles of silver light spiraled outward, condensing into a roaring spear of pure arcane annihilation. With a final cry, she unleashed it, the beam cutting across the battlefield like a star fallen from the heavens.
KRSSHHHHHH!
The beam slammed into the turtle's head. The earth buckled. The sky itself seemed to ripple with the force. Nobles screamed, soldiers staggered, and the beast bellowed—
—but when the light faded, only a shallow scorch mark marred its shell.
Veloria staggered, sweat pouring from her brow, shock painted across her features.
"I… put everything into that," she whispered. "And it still stands…"
Gasps rippled across the Backbone. Harrond's fists clenched in frustration. Cyras cursed, slamming his blade into the ground. Even Elayne's composed expression cracked with worry.
The turtle raised its head, maw glowing with another sphere of violet flame, larger than before—ready to wipe out entire swaths of the capital in a single blast.
Kael's masked voice rang out, steel beneath the calm.
"Step back."
Veloria blinked, staring at him. "What are you—"
"Your magic isn't enough," Kael said, lifting his hand. "This calls for something far greater."
The golems froze as his will surged through them, their mana-absorbing cores beginning to pulse in unison. Lines of runes shifted across their bodies, forming a vast circular pattern around Kael, linking to the magical staff now returning to his grasp.
Mana whipped into the air, violent winds tearing through the plaza. The very atmosphere bent to his will, arcs of power snapping like thunder across the square.
The nobles trembled. The Backbone stared in stunned silence. Even the abomination hesitated, its violet glow flickering as if it instinctively recognized the danger.
Kael raised the staff high, his masked gaze locked on the abyssal turtle.
"Enough games."
The runes blazed. The city shook.
The masked mage prepared to unleash his true hand.