Chapter 452 Desperate Yet Relentless

Chapter 452 Desperate Yet Relentless

Lysandra grimaced as a chill ran through her veins, a chilling presence seeming to seize control of her very being. She felt powerless, vulnerable – a feeling she despised more than anything else.

Rebecca stepped forward, her eyes blazing with fury. With a swift motion, she wiped away the blood that still lingered on her split lip, staring down at her crimson-streaked hand with disdain. Then, without warning, she lunged towards Lysandra like a predator closing in on its prey.

*THUD! *

The sound echoed ominously throughout the air as Rebecca's fist connected solidly with Lysandra's jawline, snapping her head to the side. A spray of red droplets splattered against the ground, painting them with crimson drops.

Lysandra tasted iron; it filled her mouth, and her vision blurred momentarily from the impact but quickly cleared up again, revealing Rebecca standing over her menacingly.

"That's for striking my face, you miserable bitch!" spat out Rebecca venomously, each word laden with loathing, "But we won't settle for merely one blow."

Her voice dropped several octaves, becoming sinisterly soft yet piercingly clear, "First, I will carve your pretty face until it resembles nothing but an ugly crone. And once I am done mutilating you beyond recognition..."

She paused dramatically, savoring the satisfaction of this moment.

"Then, oh yes, then," continued Rebecca slowly, relishing every syllable, "I shall compel you to deliver my son back into my arms."

But her victory was short-lived, for Lysandra's eyes ignited with a vengeful glow, burning away the icy shackles that tried to claim her from within. With a swift motion, she seized Rebecca's wrist, her grip unyielding, "I am going to make your son wish you weren't his mother," Lysandra vowed, her voice a lethal whisper.

"You dare!" Rebecca lunged at Lysandra as the two women once again locked themselves in a deadly battle, exchanging blow after blow with enduring will and ferocity. The initial instance of this chapter being available happened at N0v3l.Bin.

The air around them crackled with raw, untamed power as they clashed relentlessly, neither willing to yield.

Meanwhile, on another front, amidst the tumult of the battlefield, where the air itself seemed to tremble with the clash of titanic forces, Rowena stood as a solitary bastion against the relentless onslaught.

Around her, the air was thick with the electric crackle of colliding mana, the ground beneath her feet scarred by the ferocity of the combat. Her figure shrouded in a mantle of indomitable will, faced ten Dragonblood Knights, each as strong as a Bloodborn Guard. They were the most feared title in the Draconis Kingdom after the king himself.

Drakar, his figure a menacing silhouette against the backdrop of chaos, watched with a predator's glee as he also kept putting pressure on her with his attacks, "Give up, Queen Drake. You can only defend yourself for so long until you can't," he taunted, his voice a scornful hiss that carried over the din of battle. His onslaught was relentless, a barrage of power aimed to wear down her defenses.

But despite his smug words, Drakar inwardly was disgruntled, especially when he glanced at the five corpses littered around Rowena. He had assigned 15 of his most powerful Dragonblood Knights to bring down Rowena, but she still managed to kill five of them before she got suppressed.

"That's enough from you!" Drakar, seemingly incensed by her tenacity, bellowed a commanding roar, casting his lance in a reckless arc toward Rowena's back.

Anticipating the impending danger, she spun rapidly, forming a feeble blood barrier just moments before the impact. *Boom!*

Though the collision was deflected, the sheer intensity behind Drakar's attack left her breathless and wheezing, shattering the ephemeral wall meant to protect her vitality. Crimson fluid poured freely from her mouth, staining the blackened terrain beneath her figure.

With little respite afforded to her ravaged form, she began to fall until she crumpled beside Flaralis, who let out a doleful roar upon seeing her battered figure while struggling to free itself.

Drakar stood towering against the dimming sky, his triumphant grin slicing through the dusk. With a commanding gesture, he unleashed his decree, "Finish the bloodburners. And those two," he pointed at Rowena and her dragon, "restrain them. That dragon is a prize not to be squandered."

After seeing Rowena's dragon in action, he felt it would be a pity to kill it instead of trying to tame it first and make it his own even though it was considered impossible.

His men, cloaked in obedience and battle-worn armor, surged forward to carry out his will. Yet, Drakar's satisfaction was a fleeting shadow, snatched away as his gaze snapped to the carriage. Time seemed to fracture as a stray bolt of malice struck, the carriage splintering like a toy in the grasp of an angry god. From its shattered cocoon, Asher's lifeless form tumbled out, rolling to a jarring stop on the unforgiving ground.

Drakar's voice erupted like a volcano, "Lysandra, finish her off already!" His command cut through the chaos as he saw that it was Rebecca's stray attack that struck the carriage and could have killed Asher before he got the key. If he died, then all his plans would go down the drain!

Lysandra was also enraged as, for a moment, she felt as if she was about to lose her son forever since, without Asher, she couldn't see him again. She herself had been trying to be careful all this while to make sure her attacks wouldn't affect the carriage.

Seizing Rebecca's hair, she hissed coldly, "Are you mad? Your reckless abandon could have killed your king!"

Rebecca's smile was a crimson slash across her face, her hand also gripping Lysandra's hair. "Worry about your own skin," she taunted, her voice a serrated whisper, "But then, why do you seem so concerned about him? Don't tell me you warmed an enemy's bed at night while he was staying in your kingdom? I wouldn't be surprised if a bitch like you did that."

The insult was a spark to powder. "I will take your vile tongue!" Lysandra's fury detonated, hurling Rebecca aside like a ragdoll in the gale. With the grace of a tempest, she surged after Rebecca, determined to put distance between her and the prone figure of Asher.

As Drakar approached Asher's crumpled form, he sneered derisively, muttering under his breath, "What a shame. Your attempts at escape have done naught but prolong the inevitable."

Yet, as he stared down at the unmoving figure, a peculiar occurrence seized his attention. A fleeting emerald luminescence radiated from Asher's listless body, accompanied by wispy tendrils of smoke curling from his open mouth and nostrils. An odd mixture of curiosity and uneasiness flickered across Drakar's stoic features, though he felt he had no reason to worry after seeing him like this.

Unaware to Drakar, however, a silent transformation was unfolding within Asher's shell. His bones, hidden beneath lifeless flesh, were alight with a malevolent dark green hue, shifting, morphing, their very essence transmuting. With each passing second, they darkened, adopting the luster and hardness of the rarest black diamonds, their new form pulsating with a dark green energy.

Like a creeping vine in the dead of night, this energy slithered and wound its way through his skeletal structure. Each bone it touched hummed with a sinister vibrancy, as if awakening from a long, dark slumber.

And within just a moment, his entire skeleton gleamed with an ominous allure.