Chapter 70: The Unyielding Pursuit

A piercing metallic clang, deafening, reverberated through the narrow alley.

The obsidian scythe hung suspended in mid-air, halted by the sudden appearance of a longsword Celeste had conjured from the very ground beneath her, deflecting what had been an inevitable strike.

“Metal Transmutation? Rather intriguing. I wouldn’t have imagined you possessed such a skill.”

Beneath her cowl, Carol’s smile deepened, and the pressure exerted by her grip intensified significantly.

Celeste strained, her sword arm trembling as she watched the blade relentlessly inch closer, a cold bead of sweat tracing a path down her temple.

The absurdity of it struck her; her body-enhancing white magic, after all, had yet to fade.

With a low grunt, Celeste mustered every ounce of her strength to deflect Carol’s scythe, simultaneously unleashing several arcs of white lightning from her palm as she swiftly retreated.

Carol, however, showed no inclination to widen the gap; with a nimble leap, she evaded Celeste’s retaliatory strike and surged forward once more, scythe whirling.

Her assault was a relentless, ferocious torrent; the scythe danced effortlessly in her grasp, shrouded in an encroaching black mist that utterly obscured the trajectory of its deadly blade.

Within mere rounds, Celeste found herself cornered, so thoroughly suppressed that she was all but deprived of any opportunity to retaliate.

Her only recourse was to erect a desperate, final defense with her sword, barely shielding herself from the relentless onslaught.

“Hahaha! What’s the matter, then? Is this truly the extent of your prowess? How utterly disappointing!”

Carol’s laughter pealed with unbridled exhilaration, her scythe now a blur of even more frenzied motion.

Celeste’s expression grew increasingly grim; her true strength lay in her ability to unleash wide-ranging, high-potency elemental magic instantaneously, her vast reserves of mana and aether granting her the capacity for prolonged engagements.

Close-quarters combat, however, had never been her forte.

Carol, seemingly having discerned this critical weakness, pursued her relentlessly, denying her any opportunity to create distance and cast her formidable spells.

While she could, in desperation, force a spell to manifest, doing so would render its range and potency utterly uncontrollable.

The alley was already cramped, and numerous residents lived in the surrounding buildings; a reckless casting would not only injure her but would also inevitably flatten the entire vicinity, claiming untold lives.

Celeste found herself retreating ceaselessly, trapped in an impossible predicament.

Carol, however, had no leisure for such considerations; her sole desire was to sever Celeste’s head, making this woman, who had dared to approach Yalin, pay the ultimate price.

Snap.

With another resounding clash, a sharp, fracturing sound echoed as several distinct cracks spiderwebbed across Celeste’s sword blade.

This sword, a mere temporary conjuration, was utterly incapable of rivaling Carol’s formidable weapon.

Carol seized the opportune moment, unleashing a devastating horizontal sweep that cleaved Celeste’s sword in twain.

A predatory grin stretched Carol’s lips, a glint of bloodlust ignited in her eyes as her grip on the scythe tightened mercilessly.

“Perish!”

The obsidian blade, imbued with a fierce gust of wind, arced down without mercy towards Celeste’s throat.

Yet, precisely as her triumph seemed assured, an unforeseen anomaly abruptly manifested.

Before their eyes, the walls on either side of the alley began to ripple and flow like molten rock.

In the very next instant, jagged stone spikes erupted violently from the walls, one from the left and one from the right, instantaneously impaling Carol’s body.

“Thankfully, it worked.”

Celeste gazed with profound trepidation at the blade, which had been mere centimeters from her throat.

She was, by no means, a woman of rash courage; to safeguard against any unforeseen contingency, she had, the moment she stepped into the alley, covertly laid down a barrier capable of instantaneous activation without the need for mana.

Carol’s relentless pursuit had, quite fortuitously, guided them precisely into this trap Celeste had meticulously prepared.

Such a golden opportunity was not to be squandered; with a forceful clench of her fist, Celeste caused countless minute barbs to sprout outwards from the surface of the impaling spikes within Carol’s body, interweaving like a tangle of spreading thorns.

In the blink of an eye, dozens of these jagged protrusions burst forth from every conceivable angle of Carol’s form, pinning her immovably in mid-air.

Clatter.

The obsidian scythe slipped from her grasp, clattering to the ground before dissolving into a few wisps of black mist and vanishing without a trace.

Carol hung suspended in mid-air, utterly motionless, as if even her breath had ceased. Crimson blood slowly trickled down the multitude of spikes impaling her.

Several minutes elapsed, and only after observing Carol’s continued stillness did Celeste finally exhale a long, shuddering breath, her tightly coiled nerves at last yielding a fraction of their tension.

The preceding moments had been fraught with extreme peril; even the slightest misstep could have exacted the ultimate price.

But who, truly, was this individual? And why had they targeted both Yalin and her?

Celeste’s gaze lingered on Carol’s lowered hood. After a moment of hesitation, she slowly advanced.

Taking a deep breath, she extended a hand, poised to lift the concealing cowl and reveal the true face hidden beneath.

Yet, in that precise instant, Carol’s head snapped upwards with chilling abruptness.

“Did you truly believe I was dead?”

Celeste’s pupils contracted sharply, and a wave of profound horror surged through her.

To think, this individual before her had been impaled like a veritable pincushion; it was inconceivable that a single organ within their body remained intact.

How, then, could such a being possibly still draw breath?

In her sudden panic, Celeste stumbled back several paces, yet it was already too late.

Accompanied by a sickening, squelching sound, dozens of obsidian tentacles erupted from within Carol’s ravaged form, lashing out with serpentine speed towards Celeste.

‘No, she’s going to be impaled!’

Instinctively, Celeste crossed her arms over her chest, yet such a meager defense would prove utterly futile against the onslaught of those tentacles.

In that perilous, razor-thin moment, a bone-chilling cold, potent enough to freeze marrow, surged from behind her.

Whoosh!

With a harsh, grating shriek, a wall of ice, radiating an ominous, biting cold, erupted from the ground, interposing itself between Celeste and the encroaching tentacles.

Shards of ice exploded outwards like countless razor blades, and while they could not entirely halt the tentacles, they undeniably diminished their terrifying speed.

It was this invaluable reprieve that afforded Celeste just enough time to narrowly evade the strike, though a few shallow scrapes marred her cheek.

“Are you alright?”

Liyang rushed forward, her pace urgent.

Though she had been considerably delayed, she had, against all odds, arrived in the nick of time.

“I’m unharmed. Your timing was impeccable.”

Celeste wiped away the streak of blood on her cheek, her gaze hardening as she stared intently across the alley.

“Heh heh… another one arrives.”

A chilling voice emanated from the darkness, and a black mist, far denser than before, surged forth, instantly consuming both the ice wall and the impaling spikes.

Liyang’s face, too, paled noticeably.

Nabel had once wielded similar tentacles, but in both speed and destructive potency, his paled significantly in comparison to the monstrosities now before them.

“Who is she? Someone from the church?”

Liyang queried in a hushed tone.

“I don’t know…”

Celeste’s eyes suddenly sharpened to a razor’s edge. “Liyang, be vigilant—it’s about to strike!”

From within the churning black mist, Carol emerged, cloaked and scythe in hand, her movements slow and deliberate.

Despite having been impaled moments earlier, she now stood utterly unscathed, her garments betraying not a single tear or perforation.

Carol raised her scythe high, poised to resume her assault, when her movements abruptly froze.

A tremor ran through Liyang’s entire body; she distinctly perceived the profound, air-congealing killing intent now unequivocally directed at her.

“It’s you…! It’s you!!”

Carol’s voice escalated, twisting into a shrill, hysterical shriek that seemed to tear at her very throat.

Accompanied by a truly horrifying, squirming cacophony, countless obsidian tentacles erupted wildly from within her body.

No longer were there merely a dozen; now, thousands upon thousands, tens of thousands of them, surged forth like a boiling tide, instantly overwhelming their entire field of vision.