The Exiled King

Chapter 32 - An Ancient Foe

Far above the skies of Silvardor, a small portal swirled into existence, as the sky darkened and night fell. Out stepped the masked figure who'd opened the other, larger, portals allowing the demon army into Silvardor. Moments later, a second figure appeared. He had wavy white hair, crimson eyes and an ageless face. He wore bright silver armor and heavy chainmail and a crimson cape. A slight rippling beneath their feet was the only indication that any levitation magic was being used.

He scoffed, peering down at the battlefield, where the grass had been trampled, the ground dyed an ugly red and the dirt smeared to mud. Not a single body remained, as every demon corpse had been burnt, their ashes scattered throughout the forest to prevent resurrection.

"Master, Tarbork really failed, didn't he? You gave him everything he'd need to defeat the elves, yet he's the one defeated," The masked figure said, gesturing with a sweeping arm, the damage caused.

The other sighed in apparent frustration, "I should never have trusted that oaf to this delicate operation. Only the gods know how he managed to destroy Anhua and kill the Key Guard—must have been a stroke of blind luck or something!"

"But," He continued, "Tarbork has succeeded at the bare minimum required. He was not a complete failure." 

He raised his arm and ran shaky fingers through the silvery hair.

"My mortal body is weakening. I'll need to retrieve a new one soon—an elf will do nicely for the time being, if I can find one. I should have chosen a stronger vessel, but Kuban Whiterose was the best of the fools outside alone, so I had to make do with that," He smirked, "That bloodline owed me, anyways. Their prosperity was all due to my magic."

His companion nodded, then pointed to a figure at the outskirts of the town.

The masked figure exclaimed, "Master! There's a body you can use! I think it's a warrior..."

He squinted, cursing the body's weakening eyesight, and thrust his arm forward, whispering words of magic.

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Leus had stepped out for a bit to catch a breath of fresh air. He was not expecting a magical assault, and as the first stabbing pains hit him, he instinctively ducked, scanning himself for injuries. There were none—not physical wounds, at least. Another wave of agony washed over him and Leus groaned, thinking his head was about to split open.

W-What's going on? He thought desperately, pressing his hands to his forehead in an attempt to relieve the aching.

An echoing voice resounded, speaking a language he was not familiar with and his body froze.

He tried to move, but felt an increasing loss of control, as if he was gradually becoming a puppet to another's whims.

Leus let out a choked cry before his mouth clamped shut of its own volition and his legs gave way like he'd been kicked behind the knee. His mind was muddled and felt like his head was slowly filling with water.

Then all of a sudden, just as Leus felt his heart sinking as resignation and despair set in, a warm cerulean light began to emanate from his heart. His head was filled with a gentle and comforting feeling and he felt as if the waters were no longer a threat, but a place of comfort. The cerulean light burst forth from his chest and broke the invisible bonds on Leus' body, rendering him able to control his body again. He staggered to his feet as the warm light flew upwards and stitched together a circlet just like Jason's, with a large sapphire embedded in the center.

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W-What...?