A Gorgeous White - Chapter 375: I’ve Come For You

The skies rolled with swirls of dark grey as though a violent storm was approaching. The wind bellowed, strong as a hurricane’s, plucking leaves and petals from their bind. Something was approaching. An unsettling feeling sank in Moulin’s gut as he ran, hurried to the joint of hallways where servants and knights scrambled. There is chaos in their movements. The former searched for the safety vaults while the latter rode through the corridors and hallways to join their fellow warriors. The horns continuously sounded, nudging Moulin to the edge, of confusion, holding his little beast. What is happening?

Moulin swiftly turned to his left, where his eyes met with the sight of his comrades, armed, wearing heavy expressions. Jagra was the first to see him and hurriedly beckoned him. The youth did not waste any time and approached them with quick steps.

“What’s wrong?” Moulin asked, internally anticipating.

The men’s face dimmed, and Jagra’s eyes darkened. “The swarm is approaching…”

Moulin froze. He stilled as lightning struck his mind. Eyes wide as saucers. Moulin could hear his heart thudding against the cage of his ribs. “What?”

Jagra sighed, shaking his head. “I don’t know why. It seems they’re quite eager to rip us into shreds. They couldn’t wait a day…”

Moulin’s eyes narrowed dangerously. Of course, how could we trust the words of a devil? Moulin internally cursed himself for believing that damn crow-like beast who almost took his life. He should’ve known this…

The maeruthans split up as they were trained days before. Their figures went to blend with the elven knights oozing a dark, vengeful aura. However, Moulin knew that each of them was confused and uneasy. None could determine their fate within the battle.

“Ao!”

Suddenly, Snow slipped out from Moulin’s sight while the youth dressed for battle. Before he could even buckle his sword to his belt, the little beast wagged his tail. Animalistic silver eyes glowed and narrowed at Moulin before Snow rushed out of the door, hastily fleeing past Jagra’s legs, who had just entered.

Jagra furrowed his brows. His gaze trailed at Snow’s white little figure. “Snow is-”

“That brat!” Moulin gnashed his teeth, hastily sheathing his sword before running past Jagra.

“Moulin, wait!”

The silver-eyed youth paused and turned impatiently. Jagra tossed him something which he easily caught.

A silvery string with a single round bead, marble, carved with elven runes. Moulin could sense the magical properties within the round object. Although it was discreetly hidden, a maeruthan could feel it. Moulin raised his gaze.

“Keep it on. Speak with us through this. Your brother will be very worried if he doesn’t find you.” Jagra explained.

Nodding, Moulin flashed him a smile before he set off. He ran past hallways, open, presenting the view of the tumultuous skies. A roar of thunder noised in the heavens and then a flash of light between dark clouds. Moulin slightly flinched. It was a natural phenomenon. It was different if the skies were influenced by Hadrian’s emotions.

“Ao!”

Moulin’s thoughts were interrupted by the familiar sound. The youth’s eyes narrowed when he spots the Opallian beast glance at him before fleeing. As Moulin followed, there was not a soul in sight, and the hallways dimmed as heaven’s shadows approached. Hazy chaotic sounds chased him, but he paid no mind to it. Snow seemed to be returning to the location of the broken bell… again.

‘When I catch him, I’ll lock him in a box of ice…’ Moulin clenched his jaw. Now wasn’t the time to be playing with this little brat, but he couldn’t leave Snow alone. Why is he acting strange today?

His footsteps left a cloud of dust as he entered the archway. A heavy beat was within his mind, violent and ominous, drumming with his anxious heartbeat. The feeling of vulnerability and danger precedes his forced calmness. Suddenly, a ruthless gust of wind bursts at his front. For a moment, he was startled, but he was then appeased at the sight of Snow’s little white form digging and scratching at the end of the fallen bell clapper.

The mystic fox clawed on the object’s surface, sending unpleasant screeching noises into Moulin’s ears. Although he sensed Moulin’s presence, he ignored him and kept marking the solid round bulge of the clapper’s end as though there was something significant within it.

“Snow!” Growing confused and suspicious, Moulin raised his voice.

This time, Snow ceased his work and turned. His little eyes unblinkingly stared into Moulin, cutting through his master’s relief. When Moulin met his gaze, the feeling of curiosity overcame him. The same feeling he’d felt every time, Snow would lead him towards something dangerous or fascinating. And always, Moulin couldn’t resist it. Slowly, Moulin drew his gaze away from Snow and stared at the broken bell clapper embedded on the stone brick floor.

‘There is something inside…’ Perhaps…

Exhaling, Moulin approached the bell clapper and knelt on one knee beside the white fox who didn’t turn away from him even a second. The billowing wind carried the tail of his tied up hair—a dance of glistening silvery strands against the dim sky. Fingertips kindly brushed against the intricate symbols engraved on the bronze surface of strange flora carvings and intricate swirls like the waters of flowing rivers.

Moulin narrowed his eyes. The center of his palm glowed, and he slammed his hand on the bronze surface. For a moment, he felt a brief sting on his palm.

CRACK!

The ice ruthlessly pierced through the shell covering and filled the web-like cracks around it. Bright continued to devour the metal. Out of the blue, a burst of divine ambiance filled Moulin’s being. Familiar mana pulsed as it sank into his skin. And then cold moisture filled the airthe  hand, pushing against the bronze covering, bursts inside the clapper. Moulin flinched as his hands touched water, soaking his fingers, and a something soft and delicate like stem of flower vines.

Silver eyes widened in shock. Moulin drew back slightly to have a good look at the cracked opening of the bell clapper. Water streamed out of the shell, soaking Moulin’s leather-clad knees and sinking into the cracks of stone bricks beneath him. Moulin’s heart drummed, anticipation filled his brain.

Then he lowered his head. His breath ceased.

Within the hollow interior, there is a small tiny plant with three leaves and one little brownish fruit hanging on it’s branches. The fruit looked heavier than the plant the plant itself, dragging the rest of he little body with its weight.The plant’s roots clung to the bottom as though which was now devoid of water. It looked so delicate that Moulin was afraid to touch it.

There was no doubt…

It was a soul fragment. The last one.

But how? Why was it inside here?

Thunder ferociously roared in the sky, and flashes of lightning briefly illuminated the dark clouds. Big droplets rained soon, falling on Gala’En’s massive broad leaves. It was raining. Unable to ignore the turmoil of the skies, Moulin glanced at the sea of clouds. As rainwater soaked his clothes and his hair, Moulin’s hands tremble slightly.

The moist layer of his eyes reflected the giant tide of malibreeds approaching with heavy monstrous wings and gaping jaws. In his vision, it looked as though a giant dark wave loomed over the Island Tree about to engulfed everything in its path. Compared from the previous invasions the fortress faced, this was by far the most ruthless and vicious-looking. The swarm was massive. The sight of it drained every bit of hope left in Moulin’s heart. And he knew he was not the only one despairing. Anyone within the island felt the same thing as they were welcomed with the terrifying sight.

‘No…’ Moulin steeled his expression. He turned his head to the tiny fruit, delicately nestled around the roots of it’s plant. ‘There was still hope.’

With this last fragment, Galadin’s soul will be completed, and he’ll gain the power to shield the island once more.

Breathing heavily, Moulin carefully held the tiny fruit within his fingers, and with one swift move, he plucked it from the plant’s green branches.

Snap!

Holding the fruit gently within his palm, Moulin retreated as the plant started rotting. Even with the rain pouring around him, his nose still caught the vile smell of the withering plant. However, unlike the last time, the water didn’t transform into something murky and sickening.

Moulin sighed as he turned to Snow, whose ears perked up when he met Moulin’s gaze. The little fox blinked its adorable eyes and raised its snout, proudly seeking praise. Moulin smirked, rolling his eyes as he patted Snow on the head. Snow sulked but gladly leaned into Moulin’s touch. If only it wasn’t raining, and his fur wasn’t damp and heavy, it would feel even more satisfying.

Moulin chuckle, “Come, let’s hurry back-”

Moulin abruptly stopped. His instincts blared alarmingly!

In the next second, he grabbed Snow and threw himself to the side, barely escaping the giant razor-sharp wind blade that split the bells clapper in half and the giant branches a distance behind it. The brick walls against the branches crumbled and exploded as the relentless force struck

Moulin skillfully stabilized himself as his boots skidded across the wet stone ground. When he stopped he was a few meters away from the endless fall. The terrifying height only conveyed instant death. Moulin glanced at Snow, who looked at him in confusion, as well as the tiny little fruit within his hand. He sighed but his relief was cut short as a show loomed over at him.

Droplets fell from the aphrodite’s long lashes but Moulin couldn’t care less about the rain at the moment. His gaze is raised and cautious. His grip around the seed was tight yet soft. Heartbeat quickening as dread filled his eyes and fear filled his heart. However, he doesn’t retreat.

From afar a horrendous giant creature stood. Its blood-red eyes looked down at Moulin like it looking at a significant little prey. Like a bird, it stood before him. Gigantic scaly wings folded, glistening in crimson like blood under the light of the sun. Its beak gleamed sharply like a pointy black diamond. It stared at Moulin, the damp little maeruthan, cautiously standing at the edge.

A grating voice instantly filled Moulin’s mind. Echoing endlessly.

“I’ve come… for you… little vessel.”

Behind the monster’s eyes, a sadistic grin widened grotesquely