CHAPTER 309: 309

Kael stepped into the narrow tunnel, the walls damp and cold as he moved deeper into the underground passage.

He poured aura over his blade.

The light from his blade glowed faintly pushing back the darkness, revealing stone that had clearly been untouched for centuries.

Symbols were carved into the walls—some familiar, others ancient and unknown. The air was thick with the scent of dust, moss, and something older... something that made his skin crawl.

He slowed his steps as he reached a wider space. The path ahead opened into a vast underground hall, the ceiling rising high above with broken stone arches and faded murals across every wall. The walls were covered in carvings,images of rituals, of robed figures kneeling before towering statues with crimson jewels for eyes.

Some murals showed processions, others showed chaos, blood rituals, and a large crimson symbol painted like a sun with a black void at the center.

"What?"

Kael froze, his eyes wide.

"Is there any archaeological ruin here?"

His voice echoed slightly. The reality of it all sank in. This wasn’t just a cult hideout. It was something much older. He understood now why those maniacs had guarded this place so fiercely. It wasn’t just their base. It was a sacred site.

An ancient ruin lost to history.

As he stepped further in, Kael noticed strange markings on the ground. Intricate circles and runes etched into the floor, some faintly glowing. The silence around him grew heavier. There was no wind. No movement. Just his breathing and the soft sound of his boots on stone.

He walked past broken statues, toppled columns, and stone coffins sealed in black wax.

Bones lay scattered around one corner, with tattered robes still clinging to them. It was a burial ground. The architecture felt older than the kingdom itself. Maybe older than the continent. It was eerie and unsettling, but also powerful. Kael could feel it.

Suddenly, the ground under his feet pulsed. A low hum passed through the air. He turned around, blade raised.

From the far side of the hall, voices rose—soft, melodic chants carried on invisible wind. A tune unlike any Kael had heard before. It sounded beautiful and horrific at once, like whispers from the deep.

Figures began to emerge from the shadows. Robed in red with masks of bone and silver, they walked in perfect rhythm. There were twelve of them, forming a semi-circle. Their mouths didn’t move, but the song grew louder.

Kael frowned, adjusting his grip on the sword.

"Crimson Choir..."

One of them pointed at Kael. The song changed.

A sudden pressure crashed into his mind. It felt like chains wrapping around his thoughts, trying to choke his will. Images flashed in his mind—memories, nightmares, guilt. His knees wobbled, and he grit his teeth, stabbing the sword into the ground to anchor himself.

"Not happening," he growled as he started to use the mana around to counter it.

With a burst of will, Kael poured mana into his body. The pressure loosened. He pulled the sword free, eyes burning.

They advanced, the song weaving tighter. Kael moved.

The first cultist raised his hand, and a wave of psychic energy shot toward Kael. He dodged, sliding low and slashing the man’s legs. The blade sliced clean, and the robed figure screamed, falling backward.

Another came from the side. Kael blocked with his gauntlet, spun, and drove the sword through their ribs. The choir’s song turned discordant, but it didn’t stop.

Suddenly, one of them shrieked—a high, unnatural sound. Kael staggered back, blood trickling from his ear. A third cultist lunged forward, glowing with a crimson aura. Kael parried and countered with a heavy strike, cleaving through the robe and splitting them open.

A female voice echoed, distant and cold.

"He resists who the Song of salvation. Purge his voice."

Kael looked up. One figure hovered slightly above the ground, dressed differently. Her mask had six eyes, her arms outstretched. Energy pulsed from her, and Kael felt the air tighten again.

He charged before she could finish whatever spell she began.

Three of the choir stepped in to block. They moved in sync, casting shimmering barriers. Kael slashed once—nothing. Again, the blade bounced. He focused and shifted his stance. His sword glowed dark blue.

"Break."

He lunged and struck the barrier at the same point repeatedly. It cracked. He kept pressing. The third blow shattered it, and the impact knocked one cultist back.

A fourth lunged. This one was fast, blade hidden under the robe. Kael barely blocked, sparks flying. The cultist spun like a dancer, every movement in rhythm with the music. Kael followed the flow, ducked, and delivered a rising slash. The enemy staggered. Kael turned and slammed the pommel into their skull.

The song faltered again.

"Disrupt him!" the lead figure called out.

Three voices rose in high-pitched harmony. Kael’s vision blurred, his head pounding. His legs trembled. For a moment, he was somewhere else—a field of blood, corpses, his past. But he bit his lip hard, drawing blood. The pain snapped him back.

He threw a dagger. It pierced one of their throats. The song skipped a beat.

Kael dashed forward. Another strike. Another scream.

He moved through them like a storm, sword spinning and slicing. He took cuts—his side, his arm, his thigh. But he didn’t stop. He couldn’t. The song was weakening. He just needed to end the lead singer.

She raised her hand. The ground rumbled.

Chains made of pure energy

Kael stood in the ruined sanctum of the Crimson Choir, breathing heavily. Dust and shadows filled the ancient chamber, the remains of the battle scattered around him.

He had barely caught his breath when the sound of slow footsteps echoed in the distance. The temperature dropped slightly, and a faint humming could be heard—soft, like a lullaby, but soaked in eerie tension.

From the far end of the sanctum, she walked forward—her steps poised, her long crimson robes brushing the stone floor. Her hair was pale silver, eyes glowing faintly red in the dim light. Around her arms coiled a strange chain, etched with arcane patterns and pulsating with an unnatural glow. She looked serene, almost ethereal, like a priestess from a forgotten age.

Kael didn’t waste time and slashed.

BOOOM!

A strong arc shot out and blasted the path but as the debris fell,and dust dispersed Kael found the woman missing and he chased after.

Kael stepped deeper into the darkened hallway, the air cold and thick like he had waded into a forgotten crypt.

The ground under his feet was smooth stone, worn by centuries, with strange symbols etched across it. The faint red light from hanging lanterns flickered, casting long, dancing shadows against the walls. At the far end of the corridor, near a blackened altar decorated with bones and crimson cloth, stood a woman.

She was draped in deep red robes, her hood down, revealing silver-white hair that fell straight to her shoulders. Her eyes glowed a dull violet, and a chain of blackened metal swayed gently from her hands like a living thing.

Her presence was unnerving, not just because of her power, but because of the silence around her. It was too quiet—no breathing, no whispers, only her gaze.

Kael’s body stiffened as the chain slithered toward him like a snake. The moment it touched his armor, he felt it—the sudden pull on his very life force. His skin went pale for a second. His breath caught.

"What is this..." he muttered.

The woman spoke softly, voice hollow. "The Chain of Lamentation. Forged from cursed souls and ancient metal. It feasts on life."

Kael’s instincts flared. He pushed back, stepping aside, but the chain moved unnaturally fast, whipping forward with a snap and grazing his shoulder. Pain exploded as if his body was being drained through the wound.

He gritted his teeth, eyes narrowing. Blood ran from the corner of his lip.

She lifted her hand again, and the chain coiled in the air like it was alive, then lashed toward him again. Kael ducked low, rolled to the side, and slashed with his sword, aiming for her wrist. The chain blocked it mid-air. Sparks flew. The Saintess spun, her foot sweeping toward Kael’s knee. He barely avoided it, sliding backward.

Each movement she made was precise graceful, dangerous, controlled.

Kael could feel the pressure building, his limbs heavier. Every time the chain got near, it weakened him more. She wasn’t just strong. She was smart. Calculated.

Kael grunted as he blocked another strike, only for the chain to wrap around his arm.

His vision blurred.His energy dropped fast.

It took a moment for him to understand.

"I see..I thought it was something dealing heavy injury but it was dragging my power and transferring to you."

But instead of panicking, Kael let out a low, wild laugh.

"Kekkeke.."

"Using my own power against me?" he growled, his eyes burning now. "You’ve got to be kidding me."

In such contest,who can be better then himm

With a flash of madness in his grin, Kael dropped his sword to the side. He took a step forward.

"What are you doing?" she asked, confusion flickering on her face as she whipped again.

Kael raised his hand.

Instead of cutting he grabbed.

He caught the chain and yanked it toward him with a burst of strength and in the next moment he used devour.

SWISH!