CHAPTER 175: DEATH?

The ember fox kicked and clawed for leverage as desperation surged through her veins. Then she called on her flames and the familiar heat began to stir within, licking at her fur, a faint bluish glow rising from her skin.

But before it could bloom, the goblin’s massive hand darkened. A sickly shimmer of green-black energy coursed across his palm, coiling like smoke.

Ariel’s eyes widened as the heat within her chest suddenly faltered, then began to die.

She felt it immediately—her mana, being siphoned away.

The fire in her veins went cold.

The power she had summoned vanished as if smothered by an unseen hand.

"What—?" she gasped, the word strangled by the pressure on her neck.

Shock rippled through her expression as she tried again to gather mana, to form even the smallest spark. Nothing came.

Her mana flow was erratic, scrambled, like her connection to it had been severed.

The last flicker of warmth within her guttered out completely. The ambient glow in her eyes dimmed, replaced by something far more fragile—fear.

Her heart pounded furiously in her chest as she realized the truth: she was dry. Empty. Her mana was gone.

And the goblin still held her as if she weighed nothing.

She looked up at him slowly, her breathing uneven, the terror sinking deeper with every passing second. His face was unreadable—calm, detached, almost indifferent. Not a trace of effort showed in his expression, as though draining her had been no different than exhaling.

Her lips trembled as the reality set in.

Her life was truly at stake.

Ariel had never known dread like this—not even in the bloodiest of hunts or the closest of battles.

Never had she been stripped of control so swiftly, so utterly. One moment she’d been ready to strike, and the next she was nothing—helpless, drained, her strength ripped from her body as easily as breath from a flame.

Her limbs trembled uselessly, her claws scraping against his wrist to no effect. How unlucky could she be? To run into a goblin capable of bringing her to her knees in a seconds.

Her mind scrambled to piece it together. His aura, the decay that had spread across the forest floor, the molten glow in his eyes—none of it fit the image of an ordinary goblin. No, there was no mistaking it.

This had to be him. The chief of the enemy clan.

They were deep in hostile territory, and only he could possess such overwhelming power.

The giant goblin leaned in, drawing her closer until she could feel the heat radiating from his body. His grip didn’t tighten, but it didn’t loosen either; it remained steady, unshakable, like a mountain holding her in place.

He studied her in silence for a long, unnerving moment, his gaze tracing the strange silver hue of her fur, the faint sparks that still flickered and died along her tails. His head tilted slightly, and when he finally spoke, his voice was calm—almost curious—but beneath that calm was something ancient and cold.

"What a unique beast," he murmured, his golden eyes reflecting her fear like a mirror.

He tilted his head slightly, studying her with the same cold curiosity one might show a caged animal.

"Who is your master?" he asked.

His tone was soft, almost polite—but beneath it was an unmistakable weight, a gravity that made every word feel like a command.

Ariel didn’t answer. Her claws scraped against his arm in a frantic blur, sparks of mana flickering and dying against his skin, but it was useless. His flesh felt like stone—unyielding, indifferent to her efforts. She might as well have been clawing at the trunk of an ancient tree.

"You will not talk?" the goblin said, voice still calm but heavier now, colder.

Ariel froze. There was no anger in his tone, no cruelty, yet his words carried the same power as a blade pressed to the throat. They weren’t a question—they were a promise of pain.

The goblin’s fingers flexed slightly, and the pressure around her neck increased.

Her breath hitched. The world blurred at the edges as her airway collapsed under his grip. Her legs kicked weakly, tail thrashing as panic set in.

This was bad—very bad.

Her lungs screamed for air. The strength in her limbs was fading fast, and all she could do was claw helplessly at the massive hand that held her suspended. The sound that left her throat was barely more than a strangled whimper.

Her vision dimmed, and through the haze of pain and panic, a single desperate thought formed—weak, broken, but reaching out nonetheless.

Help...

She called out again, this time not with her voice but with the last flicker of her will—reaching for him through the bond that tied their lives together.

Help... Eli...

The thought was desperate, raw, the mental whisper of someone teetering on the edge of death.

Her vision was fading fast, her surroundings collapsing into shades of black and red. Each heartbeat came slower than the last. She knew what that meant—if she died here, it wouldn’t just be her life that ended. Their bond ran too deep. If her heart stopped beating, his would follow.

They should have been more careful. She should never have gone alone.

Help... the chief... the chief is here, she tried to mutter, but it came out as a strangled, broken sound—half gasp, half plea—as darkness began to close in around her.

The massive goblin regarded her for a moment longer, his expression unreadable.

Then, with chilling composure, he said: "Alright."

Black energy began to seep from his palm, thick and heavy, the air itself vibrating with its presence:

"You’ve made your choice."

The aura was death incarnate—cold, absolute, spreading up his arm as if preparing to swallow her whole.

Ariel’s body convulsed weakly.

Help... she cried again, her mind reaching for Eli with the last fragment of consciousness she had left.

And then—the air rippled.

The forest seemed to fold in on itself, light bending unnaturally as space tore open beside them. A distortion bloomed with a soundless crack, and through it stepped a figure—sharp-eyed, and radiating urgency.

Eli.