Chapter 271: Breaking Defenses

The arrowhead sharply pierced through the air, faster than a flash of lightning. 

Nothing could stop it as it made its mark. With a stab, it rapidly dug through flesh and bursts out from the back along with the spray of crimson, splattering on the ground. One down. At the same time, three fierce blades, ruthlessly driven, sliced the next target into three parts. The blood pooled beneath the severed torso, head, and legs.

Two of the three were down in a split second. The blazing spear, frozen still in the air above them, faded and vanished completely. The spell was broken. Without the other two, the surviving malefic could not finish it alone. But before he could turn to retreat and report, a blade's edge met his vision, and he took his last breath. His head split into two with a burst of red.

Seeing that they have succeeded in stopping the next attack, Maxille hurried to his brother's side with a worried face. Moulin was quick to escape his protective gaze and went off to fight off some more. They weren't finished yet. 

The battle was gruesomely bloody. A mixture of red and black liquids pooled on the dark earth, horridly soaking and contaminating it. The corpses of both sides littered the ground. Moulin was fast as he kept shooting off arrows, creating a trail of ice statues behind him. It was as though he was releasing all the pent-up energy he kept while within the Three Towers. 

When he had enough of his sacred weapon, he switched to a longsword of ice, cutting down gigantic limbs and swiftly dodging attacks at the same time. 

Not long after, the last of the malibreeds and malefics were annihilated. The battle ended. 

"Is that the rest of it?" Hadrian slightly turned to his side as he gazed at the flickering red light from the city's barrier. 

The officer behind him nodded. "Yes, My Lord."

"The Captain."

"He... " The man paused before he shook his head. "He's not among the survivors nor the corpses, My Lord."

Golden eyes coldly turned to the officer. Hadrian's gaze narrowed. "Gather them up. Bring the dead with us." He returned his gaze to the city walls with a vacant stare. "We'll return them for burial."

"Yes, My Lord."

Their return to the city was dreadfully silent. The remaining pathfinders were brought to the Three Towers to be treated. The injured were isolated, and the perished ones were brought to their family or close friends and be buried the next day. The startling attack near the city caused a lot of people to panic. These were not all the concerns for the Lords of the tower. The barrier was acting strange.

"Begin." Carrying a ruthless air, Hadrian ordered as he strode through the doors. 

He had changed his blood-stained attire and looked clean and purified of contamination. So was the beautiful youth at his side. Moulin was expressionless as he and Maxille entered the threshold. 

"My Lord." The Lords and Ladies rose from their seats and bowed to him. They wore respectful faces, hiding the fear and anxiety inside their hearts. The High Lord had accompanied the knights to rescue the pathfinders, yet he didn't look exhausted. Instead, he turned more serious and intimidating. 

"The Pathfinder captain did not return with his group." The Veresyah Lord, Marlow spoke. A sigh escaped his lips. 

The Morfaer Lord asked. "Then where is he?"

"The second-in-command, who was among the unharmed pathfinders, explained that he had sacrificed himself to save the group when they were crossing the boundary in Meian."

"So he's dead?" One of the Ladies asked. 

The Veresyah knitted his brows as he rubbed his chin. It was his son, Verun, who answered for him. "The remaining pathfinders explained that they did not see him die. However, they said a horde of malibreeds were chasing him. That was the last time they saw him."

"So they're not sure if he's dead or not." Hadrian finally raised his gaze from the stone table. 

A dreadful silence engulfed the whole table. Lord Marlow spoke with a lowered head when everyone was too afraid to respond. "Yes, My Lord."

Standing with his eldest brother, Moulin furrowed his eyes as he stared at Hadrian. Nobody could notice, but he recognized the frustration in Hadrian's eyes. Worry soon filled Moulin's heart.

"The barrier." Hadrian turned his gaze to the Arcane leader of the third district. The gold in his eyes were smoldering. 

The Arcane leader secretly took a breath before he responded. "The barrier, My Lord, is... still functional."

Suddenly, a wave of relief filled the Lord's faces. The moment this topic was brought up, their souls shook, and they held their breaths in anticipation. However, their relief was brief when the Arcane Leader continued. 

"However, it will last for two months" He closed his eyes. "Afterwards, it can no longer defend us."

"What?!"

A second after, a loud commotion filled the room. The barrier was the only thing protecting the city from the rotting infectious land beyond the walls. If it were broken, then the city would not last a week before it will be corroded! Malibreeds and malefics would enter the city, and it will not be long before the people would be infected by the Kron. Their presumed 'safe haven' would be corrupted just like the other cities. 

When the noise grew louder and louder, a terrifying aura swept throughout the room. In an instant, silence descended. Fear and submission erupted. The audience's eyes widened. They couldn't even lift their eyes at the man who caused it. Strangely, Moulin felt the aura but was not affected by it.

Lord Hadrian straightened with a cool expression. As he did, the oppression vanished, giving the people a breath of relief and a time to regain their composure. 

"A month." Lord Hadrian beckoned Varick to activate the map on the table. 

As ordered, Varick placed his palm on the stone table. The table's surface became tiny blocks of white stone, rising and lowering, shaping into the terrain the cartographers of the pathfinders have mapped during their journeys. Miniature rivers, lakes, mountains, plains, and valleys of Corahn were formed on the stone table before Hadrian. It was based on the original map of Corahn, but because of the shifting land as the Kron spreads, some of the terrains were altered. 

"Report to me, mage," Hadrian said as he gazed at the country of Meian. 

"O-Of course, My Lord." The Arcane leader could barely reply as he pulled himself together. "T-The crystal core of the barrier that is strongly protected within the Towers has been corrupted. My subordinates have detected a wave of corrosive mana from the spear that pierced the barrier. Although the barrier mended the cracks, the malevolent energy it injected on the barrier reached the crystal core. Thus, gradually deteriorating the barrier of the city."

"What of the Dragon Crystal? It is the appropriate core of the barrier as well." The Lord of the Sairen spoke as he stared at the map. "Did the pathfinders succeed in bringing it back?"

"..." The Arcane Leader glanced at the Sairen Lord with a sullen look. 

Lord Marlow sighed as he responded in the Arcane leader's stead. "They succeeded, however; it was the Captain who was in possession of it. The crystal disappeared along with him."

Clearly, misfortune was patting them on their shoulders. Their barrier was dying, and the man who was supposed to bring back the core had disappeared with it. Uneasiness and frustration seemed to plague the hall. The atmosphere was dreadfully tragic.

"Moulin..." Hadrian muttered, and Moulin heard it clearly. The rest of the people was too distracted to notice their interaction.

Moulin walked over to the table beside Hadrian. "Are you alright?"

"Mn." Hadrian faintly smiled. "You should go and rest. I'll join you when I'm finished."

Although Moulin wanted to refuse, he didn't want to inconvenience Hadrian. Perhaps, there was something Hadrian wished to discuss with the Lords that Moulin would find uncomfortable in listening. He could sense the uneasiness in the man's golden eyes. Therefore, Moulin nodded. 

He reached for Hadrian's lips and planted a brief kiss, whispering, "I'll wait for you."

Hadrian smiled, and he watched as Moulin went to tell his brothers, refusing their aim to escort him, and exited the hall. Maxille felt worried, but if Moulin said 'no,' then he could not push it. His brother must be tired. 

Everyone noticed Moulin's departure, and when the door shut behind him, the temperature within the room seemed to lower significantly. Suddenly, all their attention shifted to the man at the center of the table. Lord Hadrian wore a calm expression. However, the air he was exuding was enough to bring the heavens down to their knees. 

'Why did his lover have to leave the room? Now the High Lord's mask was off.' They thought.

Meanwhile, Moulin was venturing the strangely empty hallways. His thoughts wandered to the battle hours before their return. Malefics can indeed summon Malibreeds. His brows knitted. Where did they acquire such power? Where did they get it? 

Moulin turned his gaze to plain ceilings above his head. The dome seemed to hover as he lost himself in his thoughts. He searched in his mind as though the answers were lying inside him, hidden. He kept thinking so much his head started to ache. 

He didn't know why he was sifting through his memories and thoughts so much. He only felt like the answers must be inside him. Like... he was the cause. Truthfully, the words of Alha before his death haunted him. And now it was echoing inside his head. 

'The Kron was triggered by your presence. It marked the beginning of the cleansing. It is your destiny to renew this land.'

Moulin frowned. 

'It sounds like it came from a children's storybook.'

He didn't know why some people believed it. However, the hunter demon that kept on chasing him didn't stop reminding him of his supposed 'Role' in this 'Cleansing' prophecy.

By the time he snapped out of his thoughts, Moulin had realized he had wandered towards his father's room. The doors were just a few meters away from where he was standing. An uncertain feeling welled deep inside him. It was his mother's presence that had always made him feel at ease. His father had always made him think that he should calm down and not work too hard even if he wanted to. A nostalgic smile appeared on the young man's face. 

Entering the room, Moulin's steps were soft, aiming not to wake his father, who was resting on the bed. The aged man was serenely sleeping with his eyes closed. 

Wistfully, Moulin sat on the chair beside the bed. His silver eyes appeared worried. He knew his father was gradually getting better. However, admittedly, Moulin could not wait to be recognized by his father and acknowledged by him as he did before. Moulin shook his head for selfishly thinking about it; 

He needed to be patient. His father will get better... soon as long as he'll get better. 

Moulin folded his arms on the edge of the bed. The blankets were soft underneath his skin. He sighed and felt drowsiness wash him away. Perhaps, he could take a nap for a little while. He ticked his head within his folded arms, leaning on the edge of the bed and closing his eyes.

The young man slept soundly. 

Not long after, he was oblivious of the hand that came to stroke his head softly.