Echoes of the Lost Elf-Chapter 41 - 40 : Haunted (5)

As they followed Nyx deeper into the distorted space, the air grew heavier, pressing against them like an unseen force. The corridor stretched impossibly, twisting and warping with each step, as if reality itself refused to stay still. The walls throbbed in a slow, rhythmic pulse—like the shallow breaths of some slumbering beast.

Faint, ghostly whispers coiled through the air, threading into their ears yet always dissolving before meaning could take shape. Each sound sent a shiver down their spines, an eerie promise that they were being watched... or perhaps, awaited.

Nyx suddenly stopped. Her many eyes flickered, scanning the darkness ahead.

Historias narrowed his gaze. "Something is coming."

No sooner had he spoken than the whispers grew into a chorus of distorted voices, overlapping in a maddening cacophony. The walls trembled. From the shadows ahead, twisted figures began to emerge—humanoid, yet wrong. Their limbs stretched unnaturally, their faces blurred as if smeared across the air itself.

Leon took a cautious step back. "Yeah, nope. This is some next-level nightmare fuel."

Adriana gritted her teeth, drawing her sword. "Then wake up, because we're fighting."

The figures lunged.

The figures rushed forward, their movements erratic and inhuman. Their forms flickered like shadows on a dying flame, their mouths stretching open in silent screams. These were the lesser cursed spirits—remnants of whatever had crawled through the crack all those years ago.

Historias took a step back, steadying his breath. He was still dangerously low on mana after sealing the portal. Fighting now would be reckless. Instead, he observed, his sharp gaze dissecting the enemy's movements.

Leon, Zephyr, and Adriana sprang into action.

Zephyr, fueled by sheer instinct, tore through the creatures with feral precision. His claws, wreathed in dark flames, shredded the spirits apart, their forms unraveling into nothingness. But for everyone he destroyed, two more took its place.

Adriana fought with a balance of speed and power, her enchanted blade slicing through the creatures. Each swing left behind a faint afterimage of light, repelling the cursed energy. "There's no end to them!" she called out.

Leon, always reckless, grinned as he slammed a flaming fist into one of the spirits. It burst apart, but its remnants clung to his arm like ink. "Ugh, get it off!" He shook it wildly before Kael fired an arrow, dispersing the cursed mass.

Kael's voice was steady. "We need to fall back. We don't know how many more are coming."

Nyx, standing beside Historias, twitched her tail impatiently. She wasn't fighting, merely watching.

Historias exhaled. His body still felt heavy, his mana reserves far from stable. But he couldn't just stand idly by forever. His hand tightened around his sword. "Then let's end this quickly."

"Duck!" Historias' voice cut through the chaos.

Without hesitation, the others dropped low.

With precise control, Historias channeled the last vestiges of his mana into his blade. A faint silver glow flickered to life—a far cry from his usual overwhelming presence, but it would suffice. He gripped the hilt firmly, took a step forward, and swung.

A single, elegant arc.

A silent pulse of energy followed.

The cursed spirits froze mid-motion before their forms split apart, their bodies unraveling like ash in the wind. The remnants of their existence dissipated, leaving behind an eerie stillness.

The moment his attack ended, Historias staggered slightly, his breathing uneven. That had drained him even further.

Zephyr was the first to rise, whistling. "Damn. That was kinda cool."

Adriana shot him an unimpressed look before turning to Historias. "You okay?"

He straightened, exhaling. "I've been better."

Leon groaned, dusting himself off. "Next time, can we not wait until the last second for you to pull off some legendary move?"

Historias raised a brow. "Would you prefer I let you handle it?"

Leon opened his mouth, then shut it. "...Point taken."

Nyx, unfazed, flicked her tail and started walking again.

Kael adjusted his grip on his bow. "Looks like we're not done. She wants us to keep moving."

With no other choice, they followed.

Historias clicked his tongue in mild irritation. If he were alone, he would have simply switched to Aura instead of wasting what little mana he had left. But with everyone here, that wasn't an option.

After all, only Tier 6 and above could even begin to use both mana and aura together. Anyone below that threshold wouldn't even sense the difference, let alone control it

Nyx, unbothered, flicked her tail and resumed walking deeper into the shifting corridor. The others followed, weapons drawn, stepping carefully over the fading remnants of the cursed spirits.

Whatever lay ahead, Historias could only hope it didn't demand more than he could currently give.

.........

As they moved deeper, the air grew heavier, thick with an unnatural pressure that pressed down on their chests. The walls trembled, shifting like something was crawling beneath them, and the whispers returned—louder this time.

As they moved deeper, the air grew heavier, thick with an unnatural pressure that pressed down on their chests. The walls trembled, shifting like something was crawling beneath them, and the whispers returned—louder this time.

Then, the floor vanished beneath them.

In an instant, they were falling.

The world around them twisted in a kaleidoscope of shifting shadows and distorted space. The sensation was disorienting—their stomachs lurched, limbs flailing as weightlessness gripped them. The air itself seemed to pull at their bodies, stretching them in ways that defied reality.

For a brief, terrifying moment, there was no up or down. Just the endless abyss.

Then—impact.

They landed hard, but the ground beneath them wasn't solid—it was soft, pulsing, alive.

Adriana was the first to push herself up. "Again—?" she started, but her voice echoed unnaturally, repeating itself in fragmented whispers.

Adriana quickly pushed herself up, scanning the area. "Everyone alright?"

Kael groaned, rubbing his shoulder. "Define 'alright'—"

Before he could finish, the whispers intensified, layering over each other in a distorted chorus.

Historias exhaled slowly, analyzing their surroundings. The cursed spirits were restless. Whatever was lurking ahead had grown stronger.

Zephyr cracked his knuckles, eyes glowing faintly. "So, do we fight or run?"

Historias closed his eyes briefly, then smirked, though his exhaustion was clear. "Running isn't an option. It never was."

Nyx suddenly stiffened, her fur bristling.

Something was coming.

And it wasn't just cursed spirits this time.

........

Historias had known from the start.

The moment he stepped into this space, he felt it—the unnatural pull, the deliberate distortions, the way the very air seemed to drink from his presence. This wasn't a mindless domain of chaos. It had a purpose. A will. And that will had been guiding them, leading them deeper, pulling him in.

To take his mana.

It made sense. He was the strongest one here, even if no one else truly realized it. Whatever lurked within this space had no interest in the others—it wanted him. Every step they had taken, every battle they had fought, every breath he exhaled had been part of the design.

And now?

It was done waiting.

The walls trembled again, the eyes in the darkness widening. The voice returned, thick with hunger.

"You understand now, don't you?"

A deep, slow pulse resonated through the air, and Historias felt it—something was pulling at his very core.

It wasn't an attack. It wasn't a curse. It was consumption.

It was trying to drain what little mana he had left.

His fingers twitched around his sword hilt. His body was already exhausted, his mana reserves dangerously low. If this thing could siphon his energy directly, then it wasn't just some cursed remnant.

It was something far, far worse.

His mind worked fast. If he fought, he would be playing into its hands. If he ran, it would chase.

That left only one option.

Historias took a breath. Then he did what no one expected.

He let go.

He stopped resisting.

The thing in the dark recoiled.

It had been expecting a struggle, a desperate attempt to cling to his last reserves. But Historias didn't fight it—he welcomed the pull, let it flow through him, past him, out of him.

And that was its mistake.

Because it wasn't draining him.

It was feeding him.

A slow smirk curled on Historias' lips.

"Ah," he murmured. "I see."

His eyes gleamed in the dim light.

Now, the real game began.

.............

The entity that controlled this realm had been feeding off his mana, siphoning it bit by bit. It wasn't an immediate drain, nor something forceful enough to alert him. Rather, it was subtle, insidious—like a parasite leeching off him at a pace just slow enough that he wouldn't notice until it was too late.

And normally, it might have worked.

Had he been an ordinary mage, he would have been completely exhausted by now, left powerless as the entity consumed what little remained.

But Historias wasn't an ordinary mage.

Mana was not just something he used—it was something he controlled.

The moment he recognized what was happening, he stopped resisting. Instead of trying to cut off the drain or suppress it, he allowed it to happen—completely.

And that was the entity's mistake.

Because mana wasn't just a resource to be taken. It was a flow, a cycle. The moment Historias allowed it to be drawn freely, he established a connection—one that worked both ways.

The entity wasn't just taking from him anymore.

He was taking from it.

At first, the shift was so minor it was nearly imperceptible. The entity continued to drain him, unaware that with each pulse, Historias was pulling something back. But as the moments passed, the balance tipped. What had once been a slow trickle of lost mana reversed into a steady influx.

His body, heavy with exhaustion, became lighter. His mind, dulled by fatigue, sharpened once more. The weight pressing down on his chest lifted.

The entity realized too late.

Historias exhaled, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips.

"How unfortunate," he murmured. "You should have taken everything at once."

At that moment, the entity shrieked in fury. The whispers warped into a cacophony of distorted voices, and the space around them collapsed inward.

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It had lost control.

And now, Historias was ready to end this.

..........