Brigante Ark - Chapter 164

Alastor had regained his consciousness for a while now. His back against the cold wall, he clenched his fist, felt the absence of his sword. He saw Hannibal’s mumbling the spells under his breath accompanied by shuffling squeaks of his boots. His footsteps paced, suggesting that the ground made of cobble is too slippery for him to walk, it could also be that he’s tired due to almost an hour of walking and reciting.

His drawling voice filtered with eerie whispers overlapping his pronunciation of spells. Alastor noted the levels of spells, the magic he is conjuring varied from mid-tier to advance class of dark and elemental magic. It’s a multijunction type of magic, mixed with dark energy. It is highly volatile and extremely dangerous. Conjuring multijunction magic requires the assistance of five mages or more, depends how complicated the spell is. But watching how Hannibal singlehandedly recites the spells without mispronouncing the words and filtering it to fully utilize each effect, If he were to compare to other mages, he may be ranked as a high count mage. A feature that any mere lower mages won’t be able to grasp in their lifetime. Only talented are the only ones who can reach that kind of level.

And he ends it with a loud sigh. He kept his eyes to the portal below as if seeing what’s beyond the vortex of light.

Behind Hannibal, Alastor saw his sword on the corner of the wall. But here he was, looking at him, his intentions are unknown.

If they were to fight now, surely Alastor would lose. He barely regained his strength from the last fight. Clashing with a powerful mage/hunter would be foolish on his part. But what choice does he have? Only one. To fight. He’d rather die fighting rather than sitting.

They exchange glances for a moment. Eye to eye. Alastor remained to relax. His eyes remained on the target. The speck of dust passed over between them. He clenched his fist, his muscles tightened. And like a loose cannon, he fired and leaped as best as he could.

He already admits to himself, dealing with Hannibal in close-range combat would be unwise. So, he must level up his playing field. He must retrieve his sword.

He braced himself as he gets closer, but Hannibal remained in composure as if his attention was elsewhere. As Alastor came closer, his protective spell is already prepared. He need not chant the words anymore for he already mastered how to use the magic without invoking the words.

Two steps away, Alastor conjured the transcendent mirror wall. His objective is to use the wall to block and make way so that he can snatch his sword back. But that won’t be the case here. For all his effort would fall to naught as Hannibal vanished in a cloud of thin smoke.

Naturally, he’d be questioning his whereabouts. Considering how trickery he is, Alastor shouldn’t keep his guard down. More importantly, this is his chance.

As he is one step away from his sword, there came a crashing sound through the walls. Everything around him shook, throwing him mercilessly on his knees. It felt like there’s two colossal beings, clashing at each other.

He heard a loud grunt. He traced the source of the noise and saw the two of them. Abel who stood, dizzily, pissed, and hurt, then there’s Benny who is completely unconscious.

Abel turned with a nefarious glare. No jest, no more charade. His foot paced, hastened until broke off to sped.

Alastor drew his sword and start to swing the blade from right to left. And each time, Abel evaded it. It would overstatement to say that his evasion is flawless, on some degree, he received cuts, streaks of deep red had been sprayed across the pavement but is no near to critical.

Abel saw through his attacks, as soon as the sword came close to him, Abel cast a fire spell to clash against his sword. Obviously, a mere silver is nothing compared to a high class of magic. The sword was flung away and stuck on the ground.

They’re on the same ground now. Their fists will do the rest. Alastor couldn’t agree more with this. He felt he would have been at a disadvantage if he keep using his sword, given that his swordplay has no effects on him.

Before Alastor could initiate his move, Abel already leaped, and his feet landed on Alastor’s face. As the result, Alastor stumbled back. He wiped off the dirt on his face and pose.

Alastor gave a heavy breath. “Fucking hell,” Alastor muttered and spat blood.

He began to move forward. Heavy and steady. And charged, Abel threw his left fist, but Alastor slipped, pushed the man with his elbow on his guts, his knees arch on Abel’s chin, momentarily stunned him. Abel who quickly shove the dizziness got back on his feet. Abel’s fist clutter on his face, which Alastor didn’t react properly, instead he moved back, nimbly. Unlike him, Alastor was severely tired, it’s even a miracle he managed to stand up and pick a fight with him. But alas, one of them is nearing his limit.

Alastor mustn’t waste his movements, he must be direct and heavy. He must conserve his stamina. Alastor knew that this man had previously fought, looking at his situation before, he was clearly outclassed. His reaction from seeing him was a mere venting out of his frustrations to Alastor, which he knew too well.

Alastor had caught this time his front kicked. He threw him across the paved ground, rolling over until Abel hits the wall. Their fight seems to happen so quickly, that there was only a small amount of time to process what had transpired. And Alastor, for once, felt the joy of combat. Even still, they received a fair amount of damage. Their exhalations are ragged, slow, and heavy.

Abel struggled to stand up. Finding his footing, Abel charged forward. The two exchanged numbers of a fist like some thugs on a street fight. Only this time, both men are equals in terms of hand-to-hand combat.

While Alastor’s fighting style was more balance, countering when only given the opportunity, Abel is more heavy, pure offense, and much less defense. Abel’s attacks and motions are surreal, Alastor wasn’t even sure if his movements came from any school of martial arts, but one thing is for sure, most of his attacks are effective.

At some point, their fist managed to land on each other’s faces. They nimble back and are in agreement to take a breath.

Alastor commented. “For a guy likes you, your martial arts are not half-bad.”

“You…” he croaked, the words catching in his throats. “can tell…?”

“I don’t know where you learn your moves, it is consistent in shifting from style to style, but it’s sure hell effective.”

“Glad… to know. Hours of watching animes have been paid off.”

“Animes?” Alastor hesitantly spoke the word, not sure if it’s even a word from their language.

Abel remained riveted to the spot, his eye staring at Alastor.

A heavy and loud screech had disrupted their senses. The light from the well began to swirl out. Alastor reclaimed his sword. Then, numerous symbols appeared before it trails around them. He swing the sword, hoping that it would do something against the light.

“What the hell is this?” Abel frowned, not comprehending.

“Hey, you!” Alastor called out to him, “What the hell is this?!”

Even he doesn’t know what is happening. Hannibal didn’t once explain to them what’s the spell is going to be or the effects of it, all he knew is that it would open a bridge to the other world.

Lost in thoughts, Alastor set his mind on the light. Until it zaps him, restricting him from motioning. Another wave of light came by, thereafter, they heard lingering inhumane screams coming from the portal, the cry caused a chill up to his spine. Even Abel wasn’t able to move a muscle, his eyes mirrored in fear.

A beam of light shoots up to the sky, through the hole of the ceiling. The light itself outdone the moon. Its brilliance, majestic and enamoring.

“I have a bad feeling about this.” Alastor gulped in his saliva while observing.

The light around began to lift them.

He steeled himself against dark thoughts.

There was nothing he can do, no means of escape. He imagined, as so often, what would happen if their group had properly planned their escape rather than extemporizing their way in the region to the country. Wishful thinking it is, but right now, he has to prepare himself for what’s going to happen next.

Rest your mind before the battle. Those are the words he learned from Meil. In times of danger, the mind should learn to calm and prevent fear from alleviating.

What about her? As if like a ringtone, Alastor remembered her. Fuck!

The light pulled Benny first inside the well. Next is Abel.

“Hannibal! You fucking asshole! What the hell are you doing to me?! Where is it taking me into?!”

Even Abel wasn’t able to resist the rope of light as it pulled him inside the portal.

The mercenary blinked, when he opened his eyes, it became brimmed with determination. He barely lifted his finger to the portal. Alastor conjured a wall but only exist temporarily as the light itself absorbed his spell.

“Fuck!”

As many times he attempts, the light always consumes his spells. He ran out of time.

The light had taken him away and into the void, he is devoured.