The Play-Toy Of Three Lycan Kings-Chapter 437: Final Duel III

SAGE

Dig into my wells?

Even in the middle of the battlefield, the instruction felt maddeningly vague, but the question barely had time to fully form in my head before the air shifted—thickened—and the Queen’s voice rose into the sky, low and guttural, chanting words that made my skin crawl.

Dark words. Ancient. Wrong. Panic flared immediately, proving El was right: the Queen was gearing up for her final blow.

"Focus," El urged inside me. I tried—Goddess, I tried—but my pulse was racing too fast, my thoughts were too scattered, and my nerves were too raw from the relentless drain of black magic.

The Queen’s power was building, swelling, and every instinct in me screamed that if I didn’t move soon, this would end badly. Very badly.

El, I called, desperation threading through the thought, can’t you dig into it yourself?

There was a pause, and then she answered gently, "No, Sage. This is yours. Only you can reach it."

My jaw tightened because, of course, it couldn’t be easy, but El added softly, "I can help you focus."

I sucked in a sharp breath, whispered "Please" aloud, and then I obeyed. I forced my eyes shut even as the battlefield roared around me while El guided me through it, slowly, steadily.

Breathe in. I inhaled.

Breathe out. I exhaled.

Again, again, and again, until gradually and painfully, the sharp edges of panic began to dull.

I remembered everything: my journey, every betrayal, every loss, and every moment that had dragged me to this exact point. Faces flashed behind my closed eyes—Laura, Peter, Diana, the people in the stands, and the children who didn’t even understand the war being prepared in their name.

Adam. My chest tightened, but I didn’t shake, not even when the crowd’s shouts rose in alarm or when I felt the Queen drawing closer, her dark magic slithering toward me like living smoke.

My focus turned inward, down, and deeper, as El’s voice became a quiet guide in the background, telling me to sink. I sank.

It felt strange, like falling through layers of myself—through one well, then another, and another, each one deeper and older than the last. Power brushed against me in waves, but something inside me knew this wasn’t it yet, so I pushed further down, down, down, until I hit bottom.

Solid. Still. Empty. My brow furrowed as dissatisfaction stirred sharp in my chest; I knew this wasn’t the power the First Queen had meant. I felt it, and I knew something was still missing.

Then, warmth brushed my mind—gentle, familiar—Adam. Not just his presence, but him, with me, as if he were right there threading his fingers through mine in the quiet darkness of my mind.

"We will win together," his voice whispered, and something in me broke open. Not gently, and not carefully, but violently. Suddenly, the "bottom" beneath me gave way and I fell, not into darkness, but into blinding, white-hot power.

It roared up to meet me like a tidal wave of light and chaos fused into one breathtaking force where ancient magic and witch power collided and merged, folding into something vast, alive, and waiting for me all along. And I... I laughed.

Power exploded through my body, raw, wild, and glorious. It lifted me clean off the ground without effort, leaving my limbs weightless and my senses stretching outward in dizzying clarity until, for one surreal heartbeat, it felt like I could see everything: the field, the crowd, and the threads of magic woven through the air itself.

It felt like I stood at the center of the world, like I was a god. Something slammed into the barrier of energy surrounding me, and I blinked to realize it was the Queen’s attack; it had hit and simply bounced.

My eyes opened slowly as heat burned behind them—fire, real fire—and I could feel it. Across the field, the Queen stumbled back a step and, for the first time, she looked afraid.

Her lips moved faster now, chanting sharper, more desperate dark incantations as black threads began to coil violently around her body, lifting her slowly into the air while gasps erupted from the crowd.

Dimly, I wondered what I looked like, because inside my skin I was blazing. Golden fire curled around my hands like it belonged there—like it had always belonged there—not summoned or borrowed, but mine completely. I took one step forward and walked on air.

The Queen rose higher, darkness writhing behind her like a living shadow trying to crawl free, and understanding settled cold and clear in my chest: I wasn’t fighting the Queen anymore; I was fighting what was wearing her.

Her voice came again, but deeper now, layered and wrong. "You should yield," the darkness rasped through her mouth, "you cannot win."

I smiled, and then I rushed her.

The final clash was violent, brilliant, and terrifying. Darkness lashed toward me in thick, writhing tendrils, but this time I moved through them like sunlight through smoke, golden fire pouring from my hands in controlled bursts to slice through shadow with surgical precision.

The thing inside her screamed—not the Queen, but the darkness—and I pressed harder, faster, and stronger. We collided midair in a blinding explosion of light and void, but the balance was gone; I was no longer merely matching her, I was overwhelming her.

My hand shot forward, straight through the writhing black aura, and grabbed hold of something that was not flesh.

The darkness shrieked, the sound tearing across the battlefield like breaking glass.

"Get—out," I said quietly, and then I pulled.

The entity ripped free of the Queen’s body in a violent surge of black smoke and screaming shadow, and for one suspended second, it writhed in my golden grip—formless, furious, ancient, and foul.

Then I lifted my other hand as golden light blazed brighter. "As the Goddess wills," I said, my voice echoing with something far older than me, and I cast it back—down, away, back to whatever pit of hell had birthed it. The darkness vanished in a soundless implosion, and the sky went still.

Slowly and gently, I descended back to the ground. Silence lasted exactly one heartbeat before the field erupted in cheers, shouts, and a deafening wave of jubilation that crashed over me.

But the Queen wasn’t finished; with a raw, furious snarl, she lunged at me, gathering the last scraps of her power. It was almost sad.

I didn’t even move my feet; with a flick of my fingers, her body froze mid-strike, locked in place like an insect in amber. Her eyes widened as I stepped closer, tilted my head, and then—smack. 𝑓𝑟𝑒𝘦𝓌𝑒𝑏𝑛𝑜𝘷𝑒𝘭.𝒸𝘰𝑚

Before she could return from the shock, my palm met her left cheek again, the sound cracking across the field as laughter burst from the crowd.

Her head snapped sideways, and slowly. I wasn’t satisfied. I slapped her again. Smack. And again. Smack.

She was snarling... but she couldn’t do much now, could she? Ha!

The crowd roared with laughter, but then my senses flared sharp. The gates behind us were opening. My head snapped toward the sound just as the first wave of magic beasts burst into the field, snarling, fanged, and fast.

Rachel. Of course.

I exhaled slowly. Well, this wasn’t over yet.