The figure floated above them.
Like a statue. Menacing.
Sylvantherion watched from a distance. He saw the change in the soul across the field.
Leo.
The flickering light within the boy hardened. Sharpened into a blade of resolve. Leo stepped forward, mana flaring around his fists. He prepared to engage the unknown being.
"Halt!" Sylvantherion shouted. His voice cracked across the distance. "Do not engage, Great One!"
Leo froze mid-step. He glanced back, confusion etched on his face.
Sylvantherion shook his head slowly. He gestured to the floating void.
"Great One..." Sylvantherion rasped. His tone grave. "Spells don't mean anything to that thing."
Leo hesitated. He looked at the entity, then back at the Ancient. He didn't understand. To him, it was just another monster. Another enemy to be broken.
"That thing..." Sylvantherion continued. "If it is summoned here, it means another entity appeared that should not even exist."
Leo looked at him.
Sylvantherion nodded. Confirming the impossible reality.
Leo shifted his gaze. He shot a quick, worried glance toward Amanda.
She remained kneeling. Unmoving. A statue of grief amidst the chaos. The weight of the Daemon pressed down on the arena, crushing the air itself, but she didn't even flinch.
Sylvantherion smiled.
Indeed.
She is truly the Awakened Queen.
Then, it spoke.
The voice was hollow. Ringing inside their skulls like a bell struck in a deep cavern.
[ ARCHIVED SYSTEM LOCATED ]
[ INITIATING SCAN ]
Sylvantherion opened his mouth. He turned to Leo, ready to explain the gravity of a being that could bypass the laws of magic.
Zzzzt!
The sound snapped through the air.
Two flat magic circles materialized instantly.
One hovered directly above Sylvantherion's head. The other formed beneath his boots. Perfect geometrical disks glowing with a harsh, violet light.
Thrum.
A beam connected them.
Sylvantherion was encased. Trapped in a pillar of solid light.
The ancient staff in his hand flickered.
Ping.
Dismissed.
The wood vanished instantly. It simply ceased to be.
Sylvantherion stopped. He stared at his empty hand. Then he looked up. Staring directly into the faceless void of the entity.
"What is the meaning of this?" Sylvantherion demanded. His voice boomed against the violet walls.
But it offered no answer.
The circle above his head began to spin.
Whirrrrr.
Slowly, it descended.
It passed through his halo. Through his shoulders.
Sylvantherion felt a cold tingle. Like cold water seeping through his skin, mapping every vein, every bone, every secret hidden in his soul.
The circle reached the bottom. Then reversed.
It moved up.
Down.
Up.
It scanned him with cold, mechanical precision.
Sylvantherion gritted his teeth. Fury flared in his chest.
Bam!
He struck the cylindrical wall with his fist. The impact shook his arm, but the light didn't even ripple.
His eyes never left the faceless entity above.
"Release me at once!"
The circle stopped spinning. It returned to its original position above his head.
The Daemon spoke again.
[ CHIMERA SYSTEM CONFIRMED ]
The words hung in the air.
[ EXECUTING POSSIBLE FIXES... ]
[ EXECUTING POSSIBLE FIXES... ]
The voice vibrated through the entire arena. It seeped into the stone. Into the blood. Into the bones of every elf present.
Sylvantherion watched it change.
On the creature's featureless black skin, lines of light appeared.
Runic characters.
Thousands of them.
They cascaded down its body like rain on a windowpane. Streaming faster and faster. A waterfall of alien language that defied magic.
[ EXECUTING POSSIBLE FIXES... ]
The repetition was maddening. A broken record scratching against the fabric of reality.
Sylvantherion felt the pressure inside the pillar spike. The air around him grew heavy. Dense.
The world outside the violet light began to blur.
The sky continued to strobe.
White.
Red.
White.
Red.
And Daemon didn't stop. The runic characters cascaded faster.
Sylvantherion clutched his head. A piercing pressure drilled into his skull, threatening to split his mind. He stumbled, pressing his body against the violet wall of light for balance.
"What..." Sylvantherion gasped. "What are you doing to me?"
Movement caught his eye.
An elf warrior rushed forward. Panic etched on his face. He reached out toward the transparent enclosure, desperate to pull the Ancient free.
Sylvantherion saw him. He opened his mouth to warn him.
"No—"
Too late.
The elf's gauntlet made contact.
Boom!
The point of impact exploded. A violent rejection of foreign matter. The warrior was thrown backward, flying several meters before slamming into the dirt.
Sylvantherion gritted his teeth. The pain was unbearable.
He threw his arms wide.
"Enough!"
His mana surged. Wild. Untamed.
Crack!
The magic cylinder shattered. Shards of violet light rained down, melting into the air before they touched the ground.
Sylvantherion staggered as his world spun.
He breathed heavily, then reached out. Instantly, his long staff materialized in his grip. He slammed it down, using it to anchor himself.
Balance returned.
Above him, the chanting stopped.
The cycle of white and red clouds halted and the strobe effect died, leaving the grey sky bruised and silent.
The Daemon spoke. One last time.
[ SUCCESSFULLY APPLIED FIX ]
[ REMOVING CHIMERA SYSTEM FROM THE ARCHIVE LIST ]
Silence followed.
Heavy and confusing.
Then, the air in front of the entity twisted.
Vwooom.
The same vortex of gravity appeared. It expanded, then collapsed inward, instantly claiming the Daemon.
Gone.
Disappeared as if nothing had ever happened.
Sylvantherion stood in the center of the arena. He took a steadying breath, then turned his gaze to the warrior who had been ejected.
He walked over. Steps heavy but purposeful.
The elf lay groaning in the dust. Armor scorched.
Sylvantherion raised a hand. With a simple flick of his finger, magic coalesced.
Golden motes rained down. They seeped into the warrior's skin, knitting flesh and soothing burns in seconds.
The warrior blinked. He sat up, looking at his healed hands in wonder.
Sylvantherion reached out a hand.
"Stand."
The elf looked up, awe washing over his face. He gladly took the hand. Sylvantherion pulled him to his feet.
"My Lord..." the warrior stammered. "Are you okay?"
Sylvantherion nodded slowly. "I am uninjured. And you?"
The elf nodded and dusted himself off, then looked around nervously. "But... what just happened?"
Sylvantherion opened his mouth to reply.
Throb.
A sharp pain spiked in the back of his head.
"Guh."
Sylvantherion winced. He wobbled on his feet, his grip tightening on his staff to keep from falling.
"My Lord?"
Elves in the arena began to flock to him. Concern rippled through the survivors as they moved closer, forming a loose circle.
Then, the air shifted.
Sylvantherion didn't see it. He only felt the wrongness. A wet, tearing sensation.
But the elves saw it.
Something on his back rippled. Beneath the fabric of his robes. Beneath the skin.
The elves who had approached stopped. Their eyes went wide. They took a slow, terrified step back.
"What..."
The ripple grew violent. Bulging.
Then, from the inside of Sylvantherion's back, flesh parted.
A head pushed its way out. Grotesque. Peeking through the muscle like a parasite surfacing for air.
The elf standing almost directly behind Sylvantherion fell on his back. His face drained of color.
He pointed a shaking finger at the face emerging from the Ancient's spine and wailed in horror.
"It's the Spirit Elder!"