CHAPTER 199: ULTIMATE SHOWDOWN

"Avada Kedavra!"

Sylas didn’t hesitate. The Killing Curse burst from his wand in a flash of sickly green light, lancing straight toward Saruman.

But the White Wizard was ready. With a flick of his staff, a massive boulder wrenched itself free of the ground and hurled forward, intercepting the spell. The curse struck stone and fizzled into nothing.

Saruman sneered, his voice thick with false righteousness.

"So. The boy Gandalf shelters dabbles in such vile sorcery. Has Mithrandir grown so blind he counts a Dark Wizard as ally? If I had my way, you’d be dragged in chains to Orthanc, interrogated until every secret was wrung out of you."

Sylas let out a short, derisive laugh, eyes glinting.

"Dark Wizard? That’s rich, coming from you. If not for the glimpse I pried from your own thoughts, I’d never have known you’ve stooped to colluding with Sauron himself. Tell me, Saruman, how long before you stop calling yourself master and start bowing as his thrall?"

Saruman’s face darkened, his gaze narrowing to cold slits.

"Lies. I am Saruman the White, head of the Order, voice of wisdom. Do you think to sully my name with childish slander? Insolent whelp, I’ll teach you the cost of reckless words."

His staff slammed down, unleashing a crackling bolt of lightning.

"Bombarda!" Sylas countered, wand slashing through the air.

The two spells collided mid-way with a cataclysmic roar. Fire and thunder mingled in a blinding explosion, the shockwave scouring the earth black.

Sylas was thrown from his feet, but twisted mid-air and transformed in a shimmer of feathers, an owl, darting into the storm winds. He beat his wings hard, skimming through smoke and rubble, trying to outfly the tightening net of Saruman’s magic.

But the White Wizard’s warg mount thundered after him, Saruman chanting in Quenya. A storm gathered at his call, black clouds spinning overhead, winds howling against Sylas. Fireballs erupted from the staff’s tip, hurling down to gouge the ground in blasts of molten earth.

Sylas banked sharply, feathers singed, then transformed back mid-air, wand already raised. "Confringo!" he roared, sending a detonation spell hurling at his pursuer.

Saruman flicked his staff, deflecting the blast with insulting ease. His lips curled, ready to mock, then his eyes widened.

From Sylas’s other hand came a silver flash: the spear Aeglos.

Saruman dodged in a swirl of robes, but his warg was too slow. The spear punched through its chest in an instant. The beast shrieked once, then collapsed lifeless at its master’s feet.

Saruman leapt free, his staff braced, face twisted with fury.

"Aeglos... the spear of Gil-galad. So the rumors were true. That weapon should have been lost to time. And yet here it is, wielded by a reckless boy. No matter. Soon it will join my collection, along with your palantír."

He slammed his staff into the earth. A wave of raw force surged outward, a wall of pure magic tearing up soil and stone as it barreled toward Sylas.

"Protego Maxima!" Sylas bellowed, forcing his staff up, summoning a shimmering dome of protection.

But Saruman’s assault was relentless. Shockwave after shockwave crashed into the shield, hammering it like a storm breaking a fragile ship. Sylas gritted his teeth, muscles straining, veins standing out as he fought to hold it together. His boots gouged furrows into the dirt as he was driven back.

On the other side, Saruman’s lips curled into a mocking smile.

"Do you see now? You cannot fathom the gulf between us. I am the ocean, you are but a trickle of stream water. If I did not see some... usefulness in you, I’d have ended your pitiful struggle long ago."

His staff struck once more. The final shockwave shattered the shield like glass.

Sylas’s staff was ripped from his grasp and clattered away. He was flung backward, hitting the earth hard, the impact driving the breath from his lungs. Pain lanced through his body. His vision blurred to black at the edges, consciousness slipping.

Saruman strode forward, robes whispering, and stooped to pick up the fallen staff. He turned it in his hand, appraising.

"Mallorn wood, crowned with an Elessar emerald... magnificent craftsmanship. In your hands, it is wasted."

His tone was thick with mockery, and just beneath it, a trace of envy.

When Sylas had first arrived in Middle-earth, he had begged Galadriel for a jewel to craft the strongest staff. But unlike her gift of the Elessar emerald to others, he received no such treasure. Now, watching Saruman grip both his own staff and Sylas’s, he felt the sting of that memory.

The Ent-draught still worked through his veins, healing him swiftly. With his staff lost, a hidden mechanism released the wand strapped beneath his arm, snapping neatly into his hand. His other palm clenched, and Brisingr shimmered into existence.

With a flick of his wand, the nearby trees groaned and twisted, coming alive and surging toward Saruman. At the same time, he slashed the sword through empty air, sending a roaring blade of fire cutting across the field.

Saruman’s eyes narrowed, his lips curling in contempt.

"Trees? How I despise them most of all."

Memories of Fangorn and the Ents darkened his expression. He spun one staff in defense, blasting the trees back, while the other spat fireballs, burning through branches. The sword Sylas sent he avoided with startling agility, his robes whipping like a shadow.

Irritated, Saruman thrust out his staff. A surge of power slammed Sylas against a tree, pinning him in place. His wand and sword were knocked from his grasp.

"It’s over," Saruman mocked coldly, pressing the tip of his staff against Sylas’s chest.

Bending, he picked up Sylas’s wand. His sharp eyes immediately recognized its ingenuity, versatile, innovative, and unlike any tool he had seen in Middle-earth. But the realization that such a creation belonged to this young upstart stirred a pang of jealousy.

He tried to cast through it, only to feel the wand resist, refusing him. His scowl deepened.

"A pitiful twig daring to defy Saruman the White?"

He tightened his grip, ready to snap it in two.

But before he could, Sylas erupted.

"Brisingr!"

The blade vanished from the ground and leapt back into his hand. A second wand flicked free from his sleeve.

"Finite Incantatem!"

The spell broke the enchantment pinning him. Freed, Sylas swung the sword with both fury and precision, the air ringing with its heat.

Saruman barely had time to block. Sparks screamed as the sword bit into his staff, scorching it, and the blade’s fiery backlash singed a swath of his beard. The stench of burnt hair filled the air.

Saruman’s face twisted with humiliation and fury.

"You will pay for that!"

Magic erupted from him in a storm. Sylas was hurled backward. A bolt of lightning cracked down at him, he countered with a desperate cry:

"Bombarda! Protego!"

The spells collided, detonating in a thunderous blast. Sylas tumbled across the ground, but the shield spared him mortal harm.

Saruman rained fireballs at him. Sylas rolled, scattered them with counter-charms, then rose, breathing hard. His eyes glinted.

"You think only you can play with fire?"

He thrust out his wand. A monstrous blaze erupted, Protego Diabolica. The cursed fire twisted into the colossal shape of a basilisk, its blazing coils lashing toward Saruman.

Saruman’s brows furrowed. He braced, his staff flaring with power, holding the fire-serpent back.

But Sylas poured on more magic. Protego Diabolic surged, reshaping into a towering Balrog of flame, a whip of fire cracking down as it roared.

Saruman’s voice thundered.

"I have faced the true Balrogs, boy. Do you think a pale imitation will cow me?"

He met the inferno with lightning and force. One final bolt split the Protego Diabolic chest. The blazing Balrog wailed and collapsed, dispersing into smoke.

Yet Sylas’s lips curled into a sharp smile. The wild flames had ripped apart Saruman’s protective wards. The anti-Apparition barrier was gone.

He vanished with a crack, reappearing behind Saruman.

"Avada Kedavra!"

The green bolt streaked for the White Wizard. Saruman twisted, blocking just in time. Sylas vanished again, striking from another angle, forcing Saruman into defense.

Apparition to strike, then vanish again. Strike, vanish.

The battlefield turned into a deadly dance of guerrilla warfare.

...

Stones Plzzz

Read Chapters ahead @patreon.com/Keepsmiling818