Chapter 784: It's All My Fault
Asher soared through the darkened skies, his body wreathed in a faint glow of dark green mana, pushing himself to move faster than he ever had before.
His heart pounded in his chest, each beat a deafening drum of urgency. He had to make it back.
He had to fix whatever had gone wrong. But as he drew closer, an ominous sensation settled deep in his bones—a chilling, suffocating presence that made his stomach twist into knots.
Then, he saw it.
A thick wall of black smoke rose in the distance, choking the horizon. The deeper he flew, the more the scent of burning flesh and charred ruins filled his nostrils. The air was thick with death, heavy with something far worse than just devastation. It was finality.
His breath hitched. No.
A raw, gnawing panic clawed at his chest as he descended toward the nearest cliffside, his fingers trembling at his sides.
The moment his feet touched the ground, his legs gave out.
Asher crumbled onto his knees, his fingers curling into the dirt beneath him. His wide, disbelieving gaze locked onto the ruins of what was once the Bloodburn Kingdom.
His kingdom.
Gone.
The sprawling city that had once been alive with firelight, the warmth of torches and lanterns, the hum of voices and the thundering beats of marching soldiers- reduced to a silent, smoldering graveyard.
The grand spires of the ancient Demonstone Castle, once looming proudly over the city, had collapsed into themselves, massive chunks of stone scattered like the bones of a dead titan.
Entire districts were gone, swallowed by flames or crushed beneath the weight of fallen structures.
And the blood-it was everywhere. Splattered across broken cobblestone, pooled beneath the wreckage, staining the very earth.
The bodies of his people-his people-lay strewn across the streets in a horrific, chaotic pattern. Some were in piles, burned beyond recognition. Others had been cut down where they stood, their expressions frozen in horror. And the worst were those who had died clutching their loved ones, as if even in death they refused to let go.n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om
Asher's vision blurred. His people. His soldiers, his advisors, his loyal subjects-all dead.
His hands dug into the dirt, his fingers trembling violently. He felt his own breath shatter in This lungs, a strangled noise leaving his throat.
He had fought in wars before. He had seen destruction, had witnessed villages burned to the ground, had walked battlefields littered with corpses.
But this... this was his kingdom.
The place he was supposed to protect.
And now it was gone. How couldn't understand how this happened in the short time he was away.
The crushing weight of his failure pressed onto his chest, suffocating him.
Asher's fingers curled into fists as his dark green flames flickered weakly around him. He had never felt this helpless. Not when he was exiled. Not even when he had died as a Hunter.
Because this wasn't just about him.
This was about all the lives lost because he wasn't here.
His chest ached with something far worse than pain-it was an emptiness that threatened to swallow him whole. A hollowness that told him he had failed.
The wind howled, carrying the stench of death through the air, but Asher barely felt it. He was numb.
His gaze flickered to the city below, as if searching for something-anything—that hadn't been reduced to ruin.
But there was nothing.
A kingdom turned to ashes.
No Comments Yet
Post a new comment
Register or Login