Ancestral Lineage-Chapter 132: The Thunder Drake.
The skies above the Grove churned with fury, swirling clouds thick with electricity casting an ominous glow over the forest. Thunder rumbled like the growl of an enraged beast, shaking the earth beneath Ethan’s feet. He stood motionless, his fiery red hair dampened by the sudden onslaught of rain, as his silver eyes locked on the approaching figure.
The Thunder Drake emerged from the storm, its scales shimmering with a metallic sheen as arcs of lightning danced across its massive body. It was a monstrous creature, its serpent-like form extending over forty feet. Its eyes burned like molten gold, and jagged horns crowned its head, pulsating with electrical energy. A deep, guttural roar escaped its maw, sending shockwaves through the air and asserting its dominance over the battlefield.
Ethan gripped Psykron tightly, its sleek warhammer form glowing faintly with psychic energy as if responding to the palpable tension. "You picked the wrong guy to test today," he muttered, rolling his shoulders as he braced himself.
The Thunder Drake didn’t wait for a formal start to the battle. With a sudden burst of speed, it surged forward, its maw opening to release a crackling bolt of lightning aimed directly at Ethan.
Ethan sidestepped the blast, the ground where he stood moments ago exploding in a shower of dirt and sparks. "System," he growled under his breath, "any tips for taking this thing down?"
The system’s response was immediate, its robotic tone cutting through the chaos.
Scanning target... Target identified: Thunder Drake (Gold Tier). Weakness: Head crests conduct electricity back to its core, destabilizing energy flow. Recommendation: Focus attacks on cranial crests to disrupt its abilities.
"Got it," Ethan said, gripping Psykron tightly. The warhammer hummed in his hands, its latent power eager to be unleashed.
The Drake lunged again, its claws raking through the air. Ethan leapt back, narrowly avoiding the attack. As he landed, he swung Psykron in a wide arc, unleashing the hammer’s first ability.
Telekinetic Blast.
A wave of psychic energy erupted from the hammer, radiating outward in a 15-yard radius. The Drake reeled as the force slammed into it, stunning it momentarily. Ethan didn’t waste the opportunity. He surged forward, aiming a crushing blow at the creature’s head crest.
The impact was thunderous, the force cracking one of the crests and sending sparks flying. The Drake roared in fury, its body convulsing as its electrical energy faltered.
But the reprieve was short-lived. Shaking off the stun, the Thunder Drake reared back and slammed its tail into the ground. A surge of electrical energy coursed through the earth, sending jagged bolts of lightning racing toward Ethan.
He barely managed to dive out of the way, the lightning bolts grazing the edges of his armor. Gritting his teeth, Ethan activated Psykron’s second ability.
Psychic Grip.
The warhammer pulsed with energy, extending its stunning capabilities. Ethan leapt back into the fray, dodging another swipe from the Drake’s claws. With precision, he swung Psykron once more, this time targeting the beast’s remaining crests. The hammer connected with a resounding crack, amplified by the psychic force. The Drake howled, its movements growing sluggish as the psychic energy disrupted its coordination.
Ethan’s breath came in sharp bursts, rain mingling with sweat on his brow. He could feel the beast’s power waning, but it wasn’t done yet. The Thunder Drake’s eyes narrowed, its body glowing with an intense blue light. Ethan’s instincts screamed at him to move, and he barely managed to roll aside as the Drake unleashed its ultimate attack—a colossal lightning bolt that carved a smoking trench through the Grove.
"That was close," Ethan muttered, pushing himself to his feet. He tightened his grip on Psykron, his silver eyes blazing with determination. "You’re not the only one with a final move."
The warhammer’s third ability, Mind Crush, activated as Ethan swung it in a brutal overhead strike. The blow connected with the Thunder Drake’s skull, the psychic energy amplifying the damage and targeting the beast’s weakened state.
The Drake’s roar turned into a pitiful whimper as the force of the attack drove it to the ground. Its body convulsed, sparks sputtering from its damaged crests. Ethan stood over the fallen beast, Psykron glowing faintly in his hands.
"System," he said, his voice calm despite the adrenaline coursing through him. "Is it done?"
Target incapacitated. Victory confirmed.
Ethan exhaled, his shoulders relaxing as the tension of the battle faded. The storm overhead began to dissipate, the clouds parting to reveal the faint glow of sunlight.
He looked down at the Thunder Drake, its once-mighty form now lying motionless at his feet. "You fought well," he murmured, a hint of respect in his voice. Then, with a final swing of Psykron, he ended the beast’s suffering.
The Grove fell silent once more, the air heavy with the aftermath of the battle. Ethan glanced at Psykron, its glow fading as the hammer returned to its dormant state. "Not bad," he said, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "But I think we can handle bigger."
With the Thunder Drake defeated, Ethan resumed his journey, the path ahead still fraught with danger. But now, with Psykron in hand and his resolve stronger than ever, he was ready for whatever challenges lay ahead.
...
Christel moved through the Grove with deliberate focus, her massive broadsword resting across her back. The towering trees around them swayed gently in the wind, their broad canopies filtering golden-green light across the forest floor. Every now and then, vines dangled low, brushing against the red, fire-etched plates of her full-body armor. Her green eyes darted across the area, scanning for any signs of movement.
The team followed close behind, their footsteps softened by the mossy ground. Tension hung in the air, the Grove’s strange, living presence unsettling even the most experienced among them. Lysa, the lithe rogue, glanced nervously at the weaving vines, her twin daggers glinting in the fragmented light.
"Keep your wits about you," Christel said, her voice firm but calm. Her short red hair framed her sharp features as she turned back to her team. "We’re not alone out here. The Grove likes its surprises."
They moved cautiously, the rustling of leaves and the occasional creak of the trees the only sounds accompanying them. But then, the Grove fell silent—eerily so. Even the faint chirps of distant birds had vanished.
Christel’s eyes narrowed. "Hold." She raised a hand, signaling her team to stop.
The ground beneath their feet trembled, faintly at first but steadily growing stronger. Lysa spun around, daggers at the ready, while Mikhail and Ren tightened their grips on their weapons. The earth split open a few yards ahead, vines and roots bursting forth as a hulking figure emerged.
A massive bull with dark green, bark-like skin stomped into the clearing, its eyes glowing an unnatural yellow. Thick vines coiled around its legs and horns, and patches of moss covered its hulking body. It let out a deep, guttural bellow, the sound reverberating through the forest.
Behind it, more bulls appeared—smaller but no less intimidating. They moved with unnatural grace, their bronze-scaled hides covered in thorny growths. The largest of them, clearly the leader, stood at the center. Its horns shimmered with a silvery-green glow, and the ground beneath it sprouted vibrant, writhing plants wherever it stepped.
"Bronze ranks, with a Silver-ranked leader," Christel muttered, sizing up the pack. She drew her broadsword in one smooth motion, the blade igniting in her hands. Flames licked along its length, the fire reflecting in her emerald eyes. "Let’s show them why Blackstone doesn’t back down."
The bulls charged as one, their heavy hooves pounding the ground. Vines shot forward like whips, aiming to ensnare the team.
"Break their lines!" Christel shouted, meeting the first bull head-on. Her broadsword swung in a fiery arc, slicing through the approaching vines and cleaving into the bull’s bark-like hide. Flames erupted from the wound, engulfing the creature as it roared in pain.
Lysa darted around the chaos, her movements quick and fluid. She ducked beneath a swinging vine, her daggers flashing as she severed the tendrils trying to ensnare her. Mikhail stayed at the rear, his wind magic forming razor-sharp gusts that shredded the advancing vines and slowed the bulls’ charge.
Ren planted himself firmly in the path of two smaller bulls, his massive axe glowing with an earthy hue. The ground beneath him trembled as his Earth affinity surged to life. With a roar, he swung his weapon, splitting one of the bulls in half and sending the other staggering back.
The Silver-ranked leader watched the battle, its glowing eyes calculating. With a low growl, it reared up on its hind legs, slamming its hooves into the ground. A wave of thorny vines erupted from the earth, surging toward Christel and her team.
"Scatter!" Christel commanded, leaping into the air as the vines surged past her. She landed with a fiery explosion, her broadsword driving into the ground. The resulting blast incinerated the vines around her and sent the leader bull skidding back.
"Focus the leader!" she yelled, charging toward it.
The Silver-ranked bull roared, vines lashing out like spears. Christel weaved between them, her armor glowing brighter as her Fire affinity reached its peak. She closed the distance, her broadsword swinging in a wide arc. The flames from her blade collided with the bull’s thick hide, scorching it but failing to break through entirely.
The beast retaliated, lowering its glowing horns and charging at her. Christel braced herself, meeting its charge with a fiery slash that deflected the attack. Sparks and flames erupted from the clash; the heat intense enough to singe the surrounding vegetation.
Meanwhile, Lysa and Mikhail worked together to disrupt the pack. Mikhail’s Wind affinity amplified Lysa’s speed, allowing her to dart between the bulls, severing vines and striking at weak points. Ren, unrelenting, smashed through the remaining Bronze-ranked bulls, his axe sending shockwaves through the ground with each swing.
The leader bull roared again, its glowing horns flaring as it unleashed another wave of vines. This time, Christel was ready. She planted her feet firmly, her broadsword bursting into a towering inferno.
With a guttural battle cry, she swung the blade downward, unleashing a massive wave of fire that consumed the vines and engulfed the bull. The Silver-ranked beast staggered, its hide cracked and smoldering.
"Finish it!" Christel yelled.
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Ren charged in, his axe glowing with Earth energy as he brought it down on the bull’s head. The ground shook from the impact, and the beast collapsed with a final, shuddering roar.
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The battlefield fell silent, the pack defeated. Christel exhaled deeply, the flames on her sword extinguishing as she lowered it. Her team regrouped around her, battered but victorious.
"Well done," Christel said, nodding approvingly. "Take a moment to catch your breath but stay alert. We’re not out of this yet."
As if on cue, a sharp ping echoed from their radar devices. The screen flickered to life, displaying a fast-approaching signal.
"It’s moving fast," Mikhail said, his voice uneasy. "Hostile, for sure."
Christel turned toward the direction of the signal, her grip tightening on her sword. The trees ahead seemed to darken, their shadows stretching unnaturally.
A figure emerged from the gloom, striding with an unsettling grace. He was tall—towering over any of them—with wild red hair dripping with rain and a pale complexion that seemed to glow faintly in the dim light. His crimson eyes burned with an intensity that made the Grove itself seem to recoil.
Christel raised her sword, her voice steady despite the unease creeping into her chest. "Get ready. Whatever this is, it’s not here to chat."
The figure stopped at the edge of the clearing, his glowing crimson eyes sweeping over them with a predator’s gaze. The air grew thick with tension, the silence of the Grove now a promise of violence yet to come.
