Chapter 30 Assault On The Capital 3: Poor Little Nymph

The battlefield crackled with tension, the air heavy with the aftermath of their previous clash. Sylas stood there, his breathing ragged, his flames having flickered into mere embers. His eyes burned with a fierce determination, and his grip on his sword tightened until his knuckles turned white.

A primal growl rose from deep within him, a manifestation of his frustration and desperation. And then, without warning, his sword seemed to come alive, the blade twisting and contorting as if guided by a will of its own. It spiraled around him in a frenzied dance, flames erupting anew along its length. Sylas's form was enveloped by the wild, untamed fire, his aura chaotic and feral.

With a guttural cry, Sylas surged forward, his movements a blur of fiery motion. His attacks were faster, more unpredictable, as if the feral fire within him had granted him a primal instinct that transcended logic. He lunged and twisted, his blade striking out in arcs of pure chaos.

Livian barely had time to react as Sylas's onslaught began. Her dodges became hurried, her lightning-infused strikes more reactive than planned. The flames that surged from Sylas's sword seared the air, leaving trails of heat in their wake. She deflected his strikes with a mixture of lightning and skill, her movements fluid but increasingly strained.

Sylas's laughter, wild and manic, echoed through the battlefield. "You can't keep up with me now, dragon! My flames are wild and untamed, just like my desire to win!"

Livian's eyes narrowed, her focus intensifying as she danced back, her lightning dancing around her in a protective shield. "Your chaotic flames won't be enough to defeat me, Sylas. I've faced far worse."

But Sylas was relentless, his movements a storm of fire and fury. His attacks were erratic, unpredictable, making it difficult for Livian to predict his next move. He struck from every angle, his blade seemingly guided by a primal instinct that defied reason.

Livian's dodges became fewer, her parries less precise as Sylas's attacks grew more ferocious. The ground beneath them was scorched, the air thick with the acrid scent of burning earth. Sylas's laughter filled the air once again, a maddening cacophony that seemed to taunt Livian's every move.

"You're struggling, dragon!" Sylas roared, his voice a mixture of triumph and madness. "I've tapped into a power you can't even comprehend!"

Livian's gaze locked onto Sylas's, her eyes blazing with an unwavering resolve. "Your chaos won't save you, Sylas. It's a double-edged sword that you can't control."

But Sylas's response was a fierce, guttural cry as he pressed forward with even more ferocity. His blade struck like a whirlwind, his flames roaring with a wild intensity. Livian's defenses wavered, her lightning-infused shield crackling with strain as it struggled to repel the onslaught.

And then, with a savage swing, Sylas's blade connected with Livian's lightning-infused fist. The collision created a burst of energy that sent shockwaves rippling through the air. Livian's form staggered back, her balance disrupted by the sheer force of Sylas's attack.

Sylas saw his opening and lunged forward, his blade aimed at Livian's exposed side. But just as he was about to strike, his blade was met with a jolt of electric energy that stopped it in its tracks. Where there should have been empty air, an arm made of lightning mana had formed, intercepting Sylas's blow.

A smirk tugged at the corner of Livian's lips as she met Sylas's shocked gaze. Her voice was tinged with amusement and a hint of challenge. "Impressed, Sylas? You're going to make me take this a little more seriously."

With a surge of lightning-infused power, Livian retaliated. Her movements were a calculated dance of precision and strength, her strikes aimed at exploiting the openings Sylas's chaotic assault left behind. Lightning crackled around her like a storm, each strike hitting with a force that sent shockwaves through the air.

Sylas struggled to keep up, his feral attacks now met with a counter that he couldn't predict. Livian's lightning-infused arm moved with uncanny speed and precision, intercepting his strikes and delivering punishing blows of its own.

The tide of battle had shifted, and now it was Sylas who found himself pressed back, his wild fury met with calculated power. He growled in frustration, his flames flickering as his chaotic aura began to falter.

Livian's smirk grew, her voice carrying a mixture of challenge and satisfaction. "You're skilled, Sylas, but your chaos can't withstand true mastery."

Sylas's flames dwindled, his attacks becoming less frenzied as his exhaustion became evident. He stumbled back, his chest heaving then suddenly the sword began to glow.

The battleground was a maelstrom of fire and lightning, a clash of chaotic power that seemed to consume everything in its path. Sylas's form was a whirlwind of fury, his movements wild and desperate as he unleashed his transformed blade with all his remaining strength. The flames surged around him, licking at his very being, their intensity almost blinding.

But this time, something was different. As Sylas swung his blade, it seemed to meld with his form, becoming an extension of his very being. The flames that erupted from the blade no longer danced as mere fire; they twisted and contorted, wrapping around Sylas's body like a vengeful spirit seeking to consume him.

Sylas's scream tore through the air, a mixture of agony and fury as his own flames turned against him. He staggered back, his fiery aura flickering with chaotic instability. His very form seemed to tremble as the flames continued to twist and coil around him, the once familiar power now a tormenting force.

Livian watched with a mix of sorrow and concern, her gaze locked onto Sylas's suffering form. She sighed, her voice carrying a weight of regret. "So that sword is a magi tech weapon. Fest will never learn from the mistakes of the past, it seems."

The flames continued to engulf Sylas, his cries of pain growing more desperate. His voice, laced with agony, managed to find its way past the searing flames. "Help me..."

Livian's expression softened, and she nodded. "I will..."

With a surge of determination, Sylas surged forward once more, his attacks fueled by blind fury and pain. Each strike was a wild swing, a last desperate attempt to overpower Livian. But she remained unwavering, her movements precise and calculated as she blocked his assaults effortlessly.

Livian's voice, tinged with both pity and a touch of nostalgia, carried over the chaos. "Poor little nymph, if I would've raised you, you could've been such a wonderful child."

In an instant, Livian vanished from Sylas's line of sight, her form moving faster than the eye could follow. She reappeared behind him, her hand crackling with electric energy. With a swift and precise movement, her lightning-infused hand pierced through Sylas's chest, impaling his heart.

Sylas's form froze, his flames faltering as his life force wavered. The magi tech sword screeched, its metal form attempting to flee the scene. But Livian was quicker; with a snap of her fingers, a bolt of lightning crashed down, obliterating the weapon in an explosion of sparks.

Sylas lay there, his body slowly turning to ash as the flames that had once consumed him faded. He gathered what little strength remained within him to speak, his voice a mere whisper. "So, you were holding back... more than I could imagine... why?"

Livian began to walk away, her tone carrying a note of finality. "Because I wanted to see your full potential. I'm sorry for pushing you to the edge of madness. Nymphs are known to revive even after death. I don't know about half-breeds. But if you do manage to revive in a few years, come find me. I'll be more than happy to let you join my family."

ραΠdαsΝοvel.cοm Tears streaked down Sylas's face, evaporating into steam before they could fully form. "I'll look forward to it."

And with that, the first cloaked was defeated. The battlefield fell silent, the only remnants of the fierce battle being the scorch marks on the ground and the memory of a fight that had pushed both combatants to their limits.