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Chapter 116

  Moments later, after scouring four cities without success, Mel and Bimoth stopped by a tranquil lakeside. Frustration hung heavy in the air as Mel killed the engine and sighed.

  “Okay,” Mel said, stepping out of the car and stretching. “I’m gonna scout this city. You take the car and check out another one. We’ll cover more ground that way.”

  Bimoth shifted into the driver’s seat, glancing at Mel skeptically. “You sure about this?”

  Mel gave a confident nod. “I’ll be fine. I’m the only real Shadowbane left, remember?”

  With a shrug, Bimoth drove off, leaving Mel alone by the lake.

  Mel wandered over to the water’s edge, settling onto the smooth rocks. The gentle ripples of the lake reflected the evening sky, but his mind was far from serene. “What am I doing?” he muttered to himself. “Getting all worked up over some thugs using Merlin’s last name? No, it’s more than that. They’re messing up my legacy... but maybe that’s still selfish.” He chuckled dryly, shaking his head.

  A sudden glint caught his eye, and instinctively, he caught the dagger flying toward him. Tossing it to the ground with a clatter, he spoke calmly, “If you’re one of the Shadowbanes, just go. I’m in the middle of thinking.”

  From the shadows, a girl emerged, her hands raised in apology. “I’m sorry!”

  Mel turned to face her, startled. She was stunning, with short brown hair, purple eyes that reminded him of his own, and a tattoo on her collarbone. Her outfit, though, was peculiar—a ragged, cut skirt and a faded pink sweater emblazoned with the name Ethan Knight. What he didn’t realized was that she was Althara Shadowbane, and they had crossed paths once, a decade ago, during a visit to Caldara Bastille where she’d declared a “childish marriage” to Mel. And she didn’t know it was Mel.

  “Ah,” Mel said, loosening his stance but keeping his mask on tight. “Sorry, thought you were someone else.” He picked up the discarded dagger and inspected it. “Do you use weapons?”

  Althara shrugged with a casual grin. “A little something-something, you know?”

  Mel nodded thoughtfully. “Trust me, I’m something of a weapon artist myself.”

  She raised an eyebrow skeptically, picking up a nearby stick and spinning it with surprising finesse. “Yeah, right,” she said with a playful smirk. “I think I’m the real weapon genius around here.”

  Mel whistled, impressed by her skill. “Not bad,” he admitted, scanning the ground before picking up a small leaf. Holding it carefully, he glanced at her with a grin. “But a true genius can use anything.” With a precise flick, he sent the leaf slicing through the air, severing a branch from a nearby tree.

  Althara’s jaw dropped slightly before she laughed, nodding in approval. “Okay, you’ve got me there. That’s... actually incredible.”

  Mel chuckled, brushing the dust from his hands. For the first time in a while, the tension in his chest seemed to ease, though he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to this girl than met the eye.

  Back in Lance’s room, the group—Lance, Clyde, Anita, Jake, and Lucy—gathered tensely. Lance stood by his punching bag, venting his frustration with a flurry of punches and kicks.

  “What does he mean it’s too dangerous?!” Lance snarled, landing a heavy kick on the bag. “I fought the Jester! I know danger!”

  Jake leaned back on the bed, his voice calm yet firm. “I think Mel’s just really scared for us. Maybe he knows something we don’t.”

  Anita shivered slightly, rubbing the goosebumps on her arms. “I don’t know why, but I’ve got this feeling... like something bad’s going to happen.”

  A knock interrupted the uneasy atmosphere. Clyde stood up and walked to the door. He opened it cautiously but found no one there.

  “What the...? Didn’t you say your parents were on a business trip?” he asked, glancing back at Lance.

  “Yeah, they are. Why?”

  Another knock echoed through the room, this time sharper, sending chills through all of them. No one was at the front door—or at Lance’s bedroom door.

  And then it happened.

  The closet creaked open, its hinges groaning like an omen. From the darkness emerged a hulking figure, a man with a crazed look in his bloodshot eyes. His beard was scruffy, his shirt spattered with dried blood, and in his hand gleamed a massive machete. He grinned maliciously at the kids.

  “Lance Landthug. Clyde Sunnyday. Jake Knight. Anita Peak.” His voice was gravelly and unhinged as he stepped into the light. He chuckled darkly, repeating Anita’s name with a disturbing emphasis.

  The group froze in terror, their instincts screaming at them to run. Lance quickly stepped in front of his friends, his fists clenched.

  “You all go! I’ll handle him—”

  Before he could finish, the man’s massive hand swung out, backhanding Lance with brutal force. Lance crashed through the window, his body hurtling into the night.

  “LANCE!” Clyde shouted, fury igniting in his eyes as he grabbed his scythe. Spinning it with precision, he lunged at the intruder.

  The man sneered. “Is that all you’ve got?” With a powerful sidekick, he sent Clyde flying into the wall, the impact shaking the room.

  Lucy sprang into action, charging at the man and tackling him down the stairs. “CAPTAIN JAKE, I’VE GOT HIM! GET OUT OF HERE!” she shouted as they tumbled.

  The man growled and slammed her to the floor with alarming strength. But Lucy was quick, grabbing a nearby broomstick and smashing it against him. The force sent him staggering into the wall.

  Lucy kipped up, her breathing steady despite the chaos. She glanced upstairs to see Jake and Anita scrambling out the shattered window, helping each other escape.

  The man spat blood, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “I’m losing to a girl? That’s hilarious!” He laughed, the sound echoing menacingly through the house. He brandished his machete. “The name’s Sebastian Walker. I’m part of the Shadowbanes, and I’ve been sent to retrieve Miss Anita Peak. But you,” he sneered, pointing the blade at Lucy, “are in the way, little girl.”

  Sebastian lunged, swinging his machete in a deadly arc. Lucy flipped backward, narrowly dodging the blade. The broomstick in her hands broke mid-spin, splintering into two arnis sticks.

  She twirled them expertly, her movements fluid and precise. Her eyes locked on him with steely determination. “This body,” she declared, her voice unwavering, “belongs to the priestess of the stars.”

  Sebastian’s grin faltered for a moment as she spun the arnis sticks like a warrior born, ready to face him head-on.

  Meanwhile, Arid sat cross-legged in the heart of the forest, as he often did, seeking solace among the trees. His frustration simmered beneath the surface as he opened his eyes with a groan.

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  “Mom, I’m trying my hardest!” he shouted, his voice echoing through the canopy. “Being Mother Nature’s son doesn’t even make sense!” He glared at the surrounding trees, as if they carried the blame for his turmoil.

  Gripping his staff tightly, he rose to balance on it with practiced ease, his feet planted firmly as he attempted to recenter himself. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply to find his focus.

  The peace was short-lived.

  A sudden fist shot toward him. His instincts kicked in, and he gasped, raising his staff just in time to block the blow. The force sent him staggering slightly, and his eyes snapped open to face his attacker.

  Towering over him stood a man with a single piercing eye and a sharp, cruel grin. The stranger wore a bloodstained button-up shirt, his face marred by a long scar. His wiry, muscular frame radiated menace, and his short-cropped hair glistened with sweat.

  “You said Mother Nature’s son?” the man sneered, his voice low and mocking. “Well, you’re exactly who I’ve been looking for.”

  Arid instinctively backed away, his grip on his staff tightening.

  Before he could react further, the man lunged forward, his calloused hand gripping Arid’s face like a vice. With terrifying strength, he slammed Arid’s head against a tree trunk. Bark splintered on impact, and Arid groaned as warm blood trickled from his nose.

  Desperate, Arid swung his elbow toward the man’s ribs, but the attacker twisted expertly, catching his arm mid-strike. With a sickening crack, he wrenched Arid’s elbow out of its socket.

  Arid let out a guttural scream through gritted teeth, his vision blurring from the pain.

  The man loomed over him, his grin widening as he spoke. “I’m Devin Raymond, one of the heads of the Shadowbanes. You’re too much of a threat to our boss, kid. So, here’s the deal: you don’t walk out of this forest alive.”

  He raised his bloodied fist, ready to deliver the finishing blow, when a low, unsettling laugh stopped him in his tracks. Devin’s head tilted in confusion as he looked down at Arid.

  “What’s so funny?” he growled, narrowing his eye.

  Arid’s lips curled into a smirk as he suddenly slipped behind Devin with surprising speed. In one swift motion, he hooked his arms around Devin’s waist and lifted him off the ground, slamming him into a thick tree branch with a devastating suplex.

  Devin gasped in shock as the branch splintered beneath him. Arid straightened up, cracking his neck and rotating his dislocated arm back into place with a wince.

  “Forgot how much I loved to fight,” Arid said, his voice steady now, a dangerous glint in his eyes.

  The forest fell silent for a moment as the air around Arid seemed to hum with newfound energy. Devin had unknowingly awakened the warrior spirit of Arid Rosethorn—before he ever set foot in the Arcanum Royal Institute.

  In a clearing deep within the forest, Amara stood battered and bloodied. Her body was littered with cuts, her face streaked with dried blood, and her bruises stood out vividly against her pale skin. Yet her icy blue eyes burned with unyielding determination as she faced off against five members of the Shadowbanes.

  She coughed, spitting blood onto the grass, but her stance never wavered.

  Behind her, Cassius leaned casually against a tree, his arms crossed and an air of calm detachment about him.

  One of the Shadowbanes, a burly man with a smug grin, stepped forward, gesturing toward Cassius with a mocking chuckle. “You’re just gonna stand there? Not gonna jump in and save your girl?” he jeered, earning laughter from the rest of his crew.

  Cassius raised an eyebrow, the faintest hint of amusement playing on his lips. “Save her?” he drawled. “You think I’d—”

  Before he could finish, Amara’s arm crackled with frost, and in the blink of an eye, an icy spear formed in her hand. She surged forward, slashing the man’s chest with precision.

  The man staggered back, clutching his chest as blood seeped through his torn shirt. He screamed in pain, and the laughter of his comrades died instantly, replaced by wide-eyed shock.

  Cassius smirked and finished his sentence. “—interfere in a fight with a honey badger?”

  The Shadowbanes exchanged nervous glances.

  Amara straightened up, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Ice crept along her arm as she stared down the remaining group, her presence as chilling as the frost she commanded.

  “Amara Winterborn,” Cassius said almost lazily, as though introducing her to the terrified men. “Only daughter of Amsa Winterborn of the Frostlands.”

  Amara ignored him, her voice cutting through the tension like a blade.

  “One word,” she muttered, her tone low but dripping with menace. Her icy breath curled in the air as she took a step forward.

  “Come.”

  The single command froze the Shadowbanes in their tracks, their confidence cracking like brittle ice.

  In the bustling streets of the other city, Mel and Althara strolled side by side. The faint hum of life surrounded them—vendors shouting their wares, laughter echoing from alleyways, and the occasional chatter of pedestrians passing by.

  “So,” Mel started, glancing at her from beneath his hood, “what’s your name?”

  “Sydney,” she said quickly, eyes fixed straight ahead, her tone casual but guarded.

  He tilted his head slightly, sensing something off but deciding not to press. “Nice to meet you, Sydney. I’m Wolf,” he replied, his voice muffled beneath his mask.

  Althara raised an eyebrow, giving him a sideways glance. “Wolf? Why the mask, Wolf?”

  Mel scratched his arm absently. “To hide my identity,” he admitted, his voice even. Then, gesturing to her oversized sweater, he added, “Why do you wear something that says ‘Ethan Knight’?”

  She tugged at the hem of the sweater reflexively, her gaze dropping to the ground. “It was a gift… from someone I used to know.”

  “Used to?” he asked, his tone careful.

  “A former friend,” she clarified, her voice growing quieter.

  Mel nodded, sensing the weight behind her words. “What happened?”

  Althara bit her lip, the question lingering in the air like smoke. “A lot,” she said simply, her tone firm, as if closing the door on the topic.

  Mel nodded again, respecting her silence. They walked a few more paces in companionable quiet, the city’s chaos weaving around them.

  As they walked, Mel took in the vibrant surroundings, his eyes sparkling with genuine wonder. “Auroria Dominion is so lively,” he said, plucking a delicate flower from a nearby bush. Turning to Althara, he gently tucked it behind her ear. She flinched slightly at his touch but let the flower stay in her hair.

  “There,” he said with a small smile. “It suits you.”

  Althara touched the flower absently, her fingers brushing its soft petals. “Thanks,” she muttered, her voice unreadable.

  “So,” Mel asked, glancing at her, “where are you from?”

  “The city. Don’t worry about it,” she said curtly, her gaze fixed on the road ahead.

  Mel nodded, unfazed, and absently wiped some dust off his mask. His eyes lingered on her face for a moment before he said, “You look really familiar… I think it’s your eyes.”

  Althara blinked a few times, her expression unreadable. “I get that a lot,” she replied nonchalantly. Her attention shifted to a nearby prize stand, and she pointed. “Win me something, will you?”

  Testing him, she watched closely as Mel perked up. “Whoa, a throwing game!” He grabbed her hand, his enthusiasm contagious, and pulled her toward the stand.

  “Two balls, please,” Mel said, placing a couple of coins on the counter. The carny handed him two small, weighted balls.

  “Lady’s first,” Mel said, holding one out to Althara.

  She hesitated, inspecting the ball as if it might bite. “I don’t know how to throw,” she admitted flatly.

  Mel chuckled softly. “No problem. I’ll help.”

  He stepped behind her, his hands lightly guiding her waist and arm. “It’s all in the hips,” he said with a grin, gently rotating her back and forth. Then he adjusted her arm, showing her how to aim.

  When she threw the ball, it ricocheted wildly, nearly hitting her in the face. Mel reacted quickly, snatching the ball mid-air. “Whoa! That was close!” he laughed nervously.

  Althara rubbed her wrist, a faint frown crossing her face. “This is stupid,” she muttered under her breath, but her tone wasn’t as sharp as before.

  Mel didn’t seem to mind. He stepped forward, pulled back his arm, and with a clean throw, knocked down all the bottles in one go. “Yes!” he cheered, grabbing a plush teddy bear from the prize rack.

  Turning to Althara, he handed it to her with a triumphant grin. “Here. For you.”

  She took the bear, examining it with a look of mild confusion. “Am I supposed to name it? Or feed it? Is it hungry?” she asked seriously, holding the bear up as if expecting it to answer.

  Mel chuckled. “It’s not alive, but we can name it if you want.”

  Althara stared at him. “That’s dumb.” Then she glanced back at the bear. “But… I guess it’s kind of cute.”

  Mel smiled, his eyes crinkling behind the mask. “So, why are you out here alone?”

  Her question caught him off guard. He flinched slightly, glancing at the darkening sky. “Oh no, it’s already night! I was supposed to check on my friends!”

  He turned as if to run, but Althara suddenly hugged him tightly from behind. “Don’t leave me alone! It’s scary!” she said, her voice trembling slightly, though her grip was firm.

  Mel froze, his eyes wide beneath the mask. “O-okay, okay,” he said quickly, his tone gentle.

  Reassured, Althara let go, and they began walking side by side again, the streets quieter as the city settled into the night.

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