Chapter 1541: The Cerebus’s Power (Part 2)
The Dark Guild members were hidden in every corner of the factory. Some clung to the iron beams high up in the ceiling, their silhouettes melting into the shadows. Others crouched behind the massive machines, their presence masked by the hum of dormant equipment. A few had even woven illusions over themselves, crafting spells that made them appear as nothing more than stacks of forgotten crates.
When Harvey gave the order, they moved as one.
Dark figures poured from every hiding place, their magic flaring in bursts of shadow. The golden uniforms of the Cerebus Guild, so bright and noble in appearance, betrayed them. The gilded fabric, meant to inspire awe and command authority, now served as beacons, perfect targets for the oncoming storm of spells.
The Cerebus Guild’s defenses were strong, bolstered by the combined force of light magic and moon magic. For a time, their radiant barrier held against the first wave. But now, with more firepower raining down, cracks began to appear.
One Cerebus mage stepped forward, thrusting out his palm as he conjured a powerful whirlwind, a blast strong enough to lift bodies off the ground. But before the spell could fully form, counterspells surged at him. Waves of fire, bolts of earth, blades of wind, all collided with the whirlwind, breaking it apart. And then, like wolves scenting blood, the Dark Guild focused on him.
A coordinated barrage of shadow bolts struck his shoulder, piercing again and again. His defenses faltered, his spell broken mid-cast. A beat later, the military personnel, those same soldiers who had betrayed him, launched their own barrage. The combined assault struck with brutal force, and the Cerebus mage collapsed, lifeless, to the factory floor.
The others were strong, no doubt about it, but strength alone meant little when the tide of battle pressed from all sides. Outnumbered, surrounded, and caught in an ambush, the Cerebus Guild began to falter. For every member who fell, the formation weakened, until their cohesion began to break apart.
Still, even as their numbers dwindled, the Cerebus fought with grim determination. They supported one another, covering weaknesses, shielding their comrades, and retaliating with sharp precision. Their training was evident, their discipline unmatched.
But it wasn’t enough.
Mordain and Harvey bore down relentlessly on Lias, their combined strength crushing him from both sides. In the beginning, the match had been even, Lias holding his ground with his mastery of light and moon magic. But the odds were impossible. Harvey alone, with his seven-star strength, was already enough to push Lias to his limits. Add in Mordain, a War Magus whose lightning magic cut with merciless speed, and the fight tipped beyond hope.
A devastating blow ended it.
The puppet, Harvey’s shadow construct, moved like a predator, its massive spike forming from condensed Dark Magic. With a sickening thrust, it drove straight through Lias’ chest, puncturing his heart.
Blood dripped as his knees buckled. Yet even with his final breaths, light still glowed faintly from his body, his magic clinging stubbornly to life.
“You… really had to make it so difficult for us all?” Harvey said coldly. His lips curled into something between a sneer and a smile. “With you gone, we’ll just keep doing this, over and over, until every last one of you falls.”
Lias coughed, blood staining his lips. His vision blurred, but his voice carried, steady even as life slipped away. “You think… you’re strong enough… but you have no idea. You don’t know the real strength… of the Cerebus Guild.”
The words faded with his final breath, his body falling limp against the factory floor.
With Lias gone, the tide turned swiftly. He had been one of the anchors of their defense, his moon magic supporting the others. Without him, the radiant cohesion that had held the group together unraveled.
Freed from the duel, Harvey and Mordain unleashed their fury on the others. Blow after blow, spell after spell, they carved through the remnants of the Cerebus squad. The last rays of resistance flickered out as their enemies were struck down, one by one.
And then it was done.
The factory fell silent except for the ragged breathing of the survivors. The military personnel and the Dark Guild stood side by side, gazes sweeping across the carnage. They braced themselves for more enemies to appear, but no reinforcements came. The Cerebus Guild squad was finished.
It had not come without cost.
Bodies lay scattered across the floor, ten men from the military, ten from the Dark Guild. Dozens more writhed in pain, severely injured. The losses were a testament to the strength of the Cerebus Guild. Even ambushed, even outnumbered, they had carved deep wounds into their enemies before falling.
Now came the task of cleaning up. And that, Harvey declared, was for the Dark Guild to handle.
“Can you not do that to our men?” Mordain said, his voice heavy as he looked at the corpses of his soldiers. His expression was hard, but his tone betrayed the weight of his responsibility. “I want to take their bodies back to their families. No one will know they were here. Whatever you do with your Dark Guild members is up to you.”
For a moment, Harvey looked as though he might decline, irritation flashing across his face. But then he exhaled sharply, dismissing it with a wave of his hand.
“Fine,” Harvey said. “But the Cerebus members… they stay. I’ll leave their bodies where they are. So the world knows who did this. So they know the Dark Guild is coming for them.”
As the Dark Mages set to work, dragging bodies and erasing traces of the battle, footsteps echoed across the floor.
“Man, I can’t believe I forgot my tools,” a voice muttered.
A man walked in through the front entrance, casual and unsuspecting. His clothes marked him as an ordinary worker, nothing more. His eyes widened as he froze, staring at the devastation before him.
An innocent.
“We can’t have any witnesses,” Harvey said coldly. He raised his hand, dark energy swirling as a lethal pulse began to form.
But before the magic could fire, a sharp gust of wind struck his arm. The blast veered off to the side, the dark spell flying wide and dissipating harmlessly.
The worker bolted, terror driving him to sprint back the way he came.
“What are you doing!” Harvey roared. His face twisted with fury as he turned on Mordain.
“That man was innocent!” Mordain shouted, his voice firm, righteous. “We can’t just go around killing anyone!”
Harvey’s expression shifted. For a moment, his lips curved into something like a grin. “You’re right.”
The puppet loomed behind him, its shadow stretching long and thin. In the next instant, it wrapped around Harvey, merging with his body. He swung his arm forward, and the puppet’s spike pierced through Mordain’s chest in one brutal strike.
The War Magus gasped, blood filling his lungs. He stared in disbelief, his body trembling as the shadow spike punched through his heart.
“We can’t just go killing anyone,” Harvey said darkly, leaning close as he pulled his arm free. “But we must remove anyone who stands in the Dark Magus’s way. I won’t let him fail because of idiots like you.”
Mordain’s body crumpled to the floor, lifeless.
Harvey looked down at him, his voice calm now, almost reverent. “At least in your death, you’ll be useful for the cause.”
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Chapter 1542: No Survivors (Part 1)
Alen, Mordain, and Varkos had never trusted the Dark Guild. Even as they worked alongside them, the unease was always there, lingering in every glance and every exchange. To them, the Dark Guild was not a partner, not truly. They were an ally forced upon them by circumstance, bound together by the weight of a larger, more dangerous goal.
For soldiers of the military, trust was not given lightly. It was earned on the battlefield, forged in the fire of combat and the bonds formed by fighting shoulder to shoulder against a common enemy. That was how soldiers grew closer, through shared wounds and shared victories.
And in the recent clash with the Cerebus Guild, the Dark Guild and Mordain’s forces had stood together. They had endured the same attacks, faced the same deadly spells, and spilled blood side by side. For that brief moment, after the taste of victory lingered in the air, Mordain had allowed himself to lower his guard.
It was only for an instant. But that instant had cost him his life.
Already exhausted from the battle, drained by the constant strain of fighting against powerful mages, Mordain had not seen Harvey’s strike coming. He had believed, perhaps foolishly, that their shared struggle had meant something. That fighting together might have earned him a sliver of respect, a brief recognition of brotherhood.
But Harvey did not think that way. For the Dark Guild, the bonds of battle meant nothing. To them, Mordain was not an ally, he was an obstacle. And when Harvey’s hand pierced through him with effortless cruelty, Mordain realized too late the truth: the bond had only ever mattered to one side.
His body hit the ground with a heavy thud. The sound echoed across the factory floor, drawing the attention of the military personnel around him. Most of them were still locked in combat or too stunned by the chaos to react. A few turned their heads just in time to see their commander fall, their faces twisting from confusion to rage.
Those few who tried to raise their hands, preparing to unleash spells in retaliation, never got the chance. Harvey, his hand free now, fired a pulse of dark energy straight through their hearts, ending their lives in an instant.
Then he gave the order.
“Members of the Dark Guild, eliminate everyone who is not a member of the Dark Guild!”
His voice was sharp, cutting through the noise of battle like a blade.
From the moment each member had joined, the Dark Guild had drilled the same things into them, over and over again. Every day they were reminded of the oppression they had suffered. Every day they were told of their enemies, of the injustice of the world, of the need to fight for their cause. Every day they were reminded of their ultimate goal.
So when Harvey spoke, they did not hesitate. Not for a second.
They turned on the soldiers at once, their attacks swift and merciless.
Again, the element of surprise was on their side.
Spells of dark energy burst from their hands, colliding with men and women who had once stood beside them against the Cerebus Guild. The military personnel, though seasoned and hardened by countless battles, were caught off guard. They fought back, blocking where they could, countering with bursts of flame and wind, but their numbers were already too few.
And they had been weakened. Every single soldier had poured their strength into the earlier clash. Their reserves of energy were low, their stamina stretched thin. Worse still, their greatest strength, Mordain himself, was gone. Without him, they lacked the leadership and raw power to stand toe to toe with the Dark Guild.
One by one, they fell.
Screams echoed in the factory as dark pulses tore through chests, limbs, and skulls. Flames sputtered out, barriers cracked, and soon the floor was littered with the bodies of military mages who had fought until the very end.
It was not a clean victory for the Dark Guild. Fifteen of their own had perished in the bloody conflict. But Harvey did not care. To him, to them, it was another step forward. Another victory, another moment to claim that they were growing stronger. Those who had survived now carried the pride of having slaughtered Alterian’s military.
When the last soldier had fallen, Harvey’s voice rose above the silence.
“Everyone here will remain silent,” he commanded. “You will not speak a word of this, to anyone. Not to the other members of the Dark Guild. Not even to the Dark Magus himself. This is for him. For his sake. For our goal!”
The room fell quiet. The silence itself was an answer, the soldiers of the Dark Guild bowing their heads in obedience.
Harvey’s eyes scanned the room, sharp and unyielding. “Dispose of the bodies of our own. Leave no trace of them behind. As for the military personnel, we will return their bodies to their allies. But before that, make sure every last one of them is truly dead.”
At his order, the work began.
Dark Mages knelt by their fallen allies, their hands glowing with tendrils of black mist as they disintegrated the corpses, leaving nothing but empty space where bodies had once lain. The bodies of the Cerebus Guild were dragged to the center of the room, piled together like discarded tools, awaiting whatever fate Harvey had in mind.
Meanwhile, vehicles were brought in to carry the military dead. Yet before the bodies could be moved, the Dark Guild combed through them.
Some soldiers still clung to life, groaning in pain, too weak to move. A swift pulse of dark energy to the skull ended their suffering in seconds.
Others tried to crawl away, blood pooling behind them as they forced their battered bodies forward. But rays of black energy cut them down before they made it more than a few feet.
There would be no survivors.
Among those carrying out the grim work was a man named Londo. Unlike the others, his movements were hesitant, his heart not fully in the task. His hand trembled as he checked the pulse of a dying soldier. His mind was far away, racing with questions.
What is going on? Londo thought. The Dread Magister doesn’t want to inform the Dark Magus of what happened? Why? It’s as if he doesn’t trust the Dark Magus at all… maybe… maybe he doesn’t even believe in him.
Londo’s throat tightened. He had spent time with Raze, time that had given him a very different perspective. He had seen things, spoken to him directly. And because of that, he couldn’t shake the feeling that Harvey’s secrecy would only bring disaster.
Maybe I should tell Raze, he thought. But if I do… what will it mean for the Dark Guild? Will it destroy them? Will it ruin everything, make it impossible for the Dark Magus to complete his task?
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Chapter 1543: No Survivors (Part 2)
Regardless of Londo’s doubts, regardless of the questions that gnawed at him, he was still a member of the Dark Guild. That was the undeniable truth. Whatever he might feel about Harvey’s orders, whatever unease he carried, the reality remained the same, if he spoke out, if he faltered even for a second, then he would be the next one to die.
The thought chilled him. Perhaps this was how the others had felt once. Perhaps, long ago, some of them had questioned things too. And perhaps, like him now, they had quickly learned that hesitation was a luxury they could not afford. If you allowed yourself to think too much, you would be swept away by the tide, consumed by the momentum of the Guild.
Londo wondered if there were others among them who felt the same as he did in this moment. Harvey always stood at the top, issuing commands with certainty, with ruthlessness. But the true idolization, the one they were told to live and die for, was directed toward the Dark Magus himself. Perhaps some still carried doubts, but how could they ever reveal them? In the Dark Guild, silence was survival. To speak against Harvey, even to whisper suspicion, was to sign your own death sentence.
He pushed the thoughts aside and focused on his task. His role was to move through the factory floor, to check the fallen soldiers of the military one by one. Many had been blasted across the battlefield by waves of magic, thrown hard into the walls of the factory. The carnage was scattered along the edges, bodies sprawled across shattered stone and bent metal.
As Londo worked, his hands moved mechanically, but his mind never stilled. Then, at the far end of the factory, he came across something that made him freeze.
A young soldier lay half-buried against a section of broken wall. His eyes were moving.
Londo crouched down, pressing a hand against the man’s chest. Beneath the blood and grime, there was still a heartbeat. Faint, but steady. The soldier’s eyelids fluttered, and his trembling hands lifted just enough to grasp at Londo’s forearm.
“Please… don’t do this,” the soldier mouthed, his lips forming the words though no sound escaped. His eyes were wide with fear, shining with the desperation of someone who knew his life hung by the thinnest of threads.
Londo’s chest tightened.
Why am I taking this man’s life? he thought, his mind reeling.
His fingers trembled over the man’s chest, then he quickly cast a silence spell around them, the faint shimmer of magic cloaking their small space. He risked a glance over his shoulder. The other Dark Guild members were scattered, too far to notice him, too focused on their own grim work.
Leaning close, Londo whispered, his voice low but sharp. “Behind you. There’s a hole in the wall from the fighting earlier. Crawl through it. Quietly. Once you’re outside, you run. Run as far as you can. Don’t get caught. Don’t let anyone find you. If you do… it won’t just be your life that ends. It’ll be mine too. Do you understand?”
The soldier’s eyes widened, but he nodded. He nodded with all the strength he could muster.
Londo looked around once more, checking the others, then lifted his hand. With a subtle flick, he used wind magic to slide the soldier toward the jagged gap in the wall. The opening was narrow, framed with sharp edges of twisted metal. He pushed too quickly in his rush, and the soldier’s arm scraped hard against the steel. A deep gash split open, blood spilling freely.
The silence spell could not cover the entire area. If the soldier cried out, if he made a sound, it would all be over.
But the man clenched his jaw, his teeth grinding together as he swallowed the pain. He pressed his wounded arm against the ground, smearing blood into the dirt to muffle it further, and forced his body through the hole.
On the other side, the night sky waited.
The soldier lifted his head, saw the world open before him, and without hesitation he turned, pressing his injury down to stem the flow of blood. Then he ran. He ran with everything he had, away from the factory, away from death, away from the nightmare he had somehow survived.
Londo let out a shaky breath, only then realizing there was a faint smile on his face.
Who would have thought I’d ever feel this way? That I’d feel… glad to save someone.
He rose to his feet and continued his work. His hands checked bodies with the same practiced motions as before, but now his thoughts burned. He was thankful, in a twisted way, that no other survivors appeared before him. If he had been forced to make the choice again, to gamble with fate again, he wasn’t sure if he would have been able to keep his secret.
Later, when the reports were gathered, Harvey’s voice rang out across the ruined factory floor.
“Seventy-one bodies have been found?” Harvey’s tone was clipped, suspicious. His sharp gaze swept across the gathered members. “That’s strange. Including Mordain, there should have been seventy-two.”
The words hit Londo like a knife to the gut. His heart thundered in his chest, but he forced his face to remain calm.
“That was me,” Londo said evenly, stepping forward just enough to be heard. “In the fight earlier, I… used too much Dark Magic. I was worried I’d been injured, and the magic completely erased the body.”
For a moment, Harvey’s gaze lingered on him, heavy and searching. Londo felt the weight of it pressing down, as though Harvey might see straight through his lie.
But then Harvey nodded. “You’re a Nightcaller. An elite among us, skilled in the depths of Dark Magic. If it was you, that makes sense.” His eyes flicked away, dismissing the matter. “Very well. It shouldn’t be a problem. I’ll explain it to Alen and his companions when I see them. Everyone, get ready to move out.”
The order was accepted without question, the Dark Guild moving swiftly to finish their tasks.
But beyond the factory, far across the open fields, a single figure was already making his way back toward the city. His legs trembled, his body ached, but his mind was clear.
“I have to tell Alen,” the young soldier whispered, his voice hoarse with determination. “I have to tell him what happened here.”
And with each step, he ran faster.
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