Gunmage-Chapter 234: Scars and strangers

"Just what are you doing?"

Selaphiel’s voice cut the air, sharp with anger, her expression twisted into something ugly and unrestrained.

"Selaphiel, slow down—what... whoa."

Zhou, who had followed just behind, came to an abrupt halt as her eyes fell upon the carnage laid bare before them.

The creature was gone—no longer hulking or monstrous—its remains now reduced to a small, quivering black mound.

From that cluster, faint motes of light drifted upward like dying fireflies, vanishing into the air. Yet, the residue of its presence still clung to the atmosphere, thick and oppressive.

Lyra lay sprawled on the floor in the wake of it all, collapsed on the blackened floor, limbs akimbo.

Sweat glistened across her pale, strained features. Her breath came in short, erratic bursts.

Her clothes were soaked in blood, the foreign ichor slowly dissipated, leaving behind only her own bright red stains. Often accompanied by deep gashes.

Though the summoning was over, the destruction it wrought remained.

The closer rows of seats had been obliterated—burnt, splintered, shattered into unrecognizable wreckage.

The polished floor of the training hall was no better: blackened, cratered, resembling the aftermath of sustained bombardment.

Not far from where Lyra had fallen, the marble itself had been melted into slag, a warped crater now slowly solidifying under residual heat.

"That... was not ordinary marble,"

Zhou said quietly, her eyes narrowing. Her tone was calm, but her stance betrayed it—shoulders taut, hand ready to draw. She stood alert and tense, the vigilance in her gaze palpable.

"What happene—"

Her question was cut short.

"What are you doing to Lugh?"

Selaphiel’s voice sliced through again, this time laced with fury rather than confusion.

With the two newcomers present, Xhi finally rose properly from where she stood, her movements slow and deliberate.

Her posture shifted—no longer relaxed, but not yet hostile. Unlike Lyra, these two were threats. Serious ones.

Best to observe a measure of caution.

Zhou’s attention flicked to Lugh. He was seated, his eyes open but strangely lifeless, his head slumped forward.

There was something fundamentally off about his condition. She could almost understand Selaphiel’s boiling outrage.

Xhi’s gaze passed lazily between the elf and the boy. Then she smiled, amused, and said lightly:

"What am I doing? I’m not doing anything."

"What did you do?"

Selaphiel’s patience snapped like brittle glass.

She enunciated each syllable with cutting precision. It wasn’t a question. It was a final warning.

Xhi shrugged with infuriating nonchalance, treating the threat like air.

"Well... who knows?"

Boom!

Selaphiel responded with zero delay. Her aura detonated outward, and from her position, vertical blades of pure destruction erupted forward.

They carved through the air—formless yet terrifyingly precise—racing toward Xhi with a speed that would have decimated anyone else.

"Distort."

Xhi’s voice echoed in the chamber, cool and confident. At once, the colossal blades twisted at impossible angles, veering at the last moment.

They missed her by mere hairsbreadth, but their path continued, unimpeded.

One cleanly bisected three rows of remaining seats. Another collided with the wall, carving a deep, surgical tear into the reinforced stone.

Each impact left gorges in the marble floor, the surface cracked and split several meters deep, as though some great, invisible beast had clawed its way across the room.

Selaphiel didn’t wait. Her fingers snapped sharply, and another spell fired—this one wide, conic, and almost impossible to dodge.

A sonic blast of concentrated high-frequency magic howled through the air, a debilitating field that would rupture nerves and shred unshielded flesh.

But Xhi was already moving. One sidestep—graceful and effortless—and she closed the distance between herself and Lugh.

Selaphiel’s eyes widened.

She tried to redirect the spell, pouring mana into its trajectory, trying to force a curve. But she wasn’t fast enough.

She didn’t need to be.

A barrier appeared. Vast. Malevolent. Formed of pitch-black energy and inscribed with eerie, writhing runes.

It slammed into existence between Lugh, and the spell, absorbing the soundwave entirely.

"Reflect."

The priestess spoke calmly, and the barrier pulsed. The spell rebounded—reborn, rejuvenated, and hurled back with full force.

Selaphiel raised a counter-barrier, but it disintegrated instantly upon impact. She had no time to fortify.

Instead, she drew deeply from her mana reserves and blinked away, escaping just before the attack hit her previous position.

Zhou, not a direct participant, had long moved.

The redirected spell tore into the great double doors of the training hall, reducing them to sawdust.

The massive wooden slabs were ripped from their hinges, blown apart like paper before a storm.

At the opposite end of the now-ruined hall, Selaphiel reappeared. She exhaled slowly, frowning, eyes narrowing as she considered her options.

This woman—this stranger—was not someone she could afford to take lightly. If this battle continued, the Cross Manor itself might not survive.

As that troubling thought took root, a voice broke through the tense silence.

"That’s enough."

It was Lugh.

His voice was quiet and tred. But firm.

He stood from the bench, tottering unsteadily, as if trying to find, or rather choose, the right gait.

He took a moment to find his balance, then walked toward Lyra.

She had remained untouched since the fight began, frozen by exhaustion or perhaps something else.

He reached out to her. His hand began to glow—a soft, rich green. A wave of healing energy spread from his fingers and into her battered frame, flooding her system.

Her wounds began to close. Her strength returned in a rush.

She bolted upright, staring at him in shock.

"You can do that?"

He nodded, expression unreadable.

"What kind of broken ability... you’re practically unkillable."

"Before, yes."

She tilted her head in question, and he clarified:

"During the era of cold weapons, your words might’ve held true. But now? A well-placed bullet to the head is all it takes."

He paused, then added thoughtfully:

"It’s why the elves—those who could wield magic—were practically invincible. And why they were... are, so arrogant."

The others could only stare, speechless, as the two of them spoke so casually in the aftermath of destruction.

Selaphiel’s brows furrowed in deep confusion.

Xhi, on the other hand, merely nodded, pleased. frёeωebɳovel.com

"He seems perfectly fine to me,"

Zhou muttered.

Lugh turned his gaze to Selaphiel.

"Let’s go."

She hesitated, then gave the barest nod, her magic dissipating in a gentle sputter.

"I’ll be out soon,"

Lyra said, waving halfheartedly, her eyes still narrowed at Xhi.

Xhi, however, didn’t look back. Her eyes were now locked with Selaphiel’s, who met her stare with equal intensity.

Then, finally, the priestess smiled.

"A word of warning,"

She said lightly.

"When I said lesser beings would cower in the face of the real thing..."

She turned, her figure vanishing but her voice leaving echoes

"...I wasn’t talking about myself."

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