Chapter 275 — Lysa I
5 min read ·
It was child-sized, barely a meter tall, its body connected to the larger creature through thousands of organic cables, veins and neural pathways linking it to the factory-body like a brain to nervous system.
It sat motionless, eyes closed, its surface covered in the same leathery armor but smoother, more refined.
This was the controller.
The intelligence directing the mindless horde.
The heart of the factory.
Around the room, hundreds of eggs lined the walls.
Larger than before, pulsing with power that made the air vibrate.
CRACK!
The child-creature’s eyes snapped open.
White pupils, completely blank, showing nothing.
Then... it screamed.
SHRIIIIIIEK!
The sound was wrong, hitting frequencies that made ears bleed, that made skulls feel like they were cracking.
CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!
Every egg in the chamber burst simultaneously.
Creatures emerged, dropping from the walls, falling from above, their sizes varying but all clearly powerful.
Not quite A rank, but not B rank either.
Somewhere in between, forced to hatch prematurely, incomplete but still devastating.
And they fell directly into the formation’s center.
BOOM!
A student died before he could scream, crushed under a falling creature’s weight, his body pulped instantly.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
More impacts as creatures landed, the formation shattering completely, organization dissolving into desperate individual struggles for survival.
Damian fought on instinct alone, his mind barely present, body moving through patterns remembered rather than chosen.
SLASH! RIP! TEAR!
But he was getting blasted backward, his injuries mounting, chunks of flesh missing, blood pouring from wounds that self-healing couldn’t keep pace with.
[Will: 70 → 30]
His consciousness was flickering, awareness dipping in and out, humanity slipping away with each passing second.
The Imperials activated everything they had left.
Cassius’s Shadow Legion multiplied, sixteen clones now instead of eight, darkness-principle Aura burning through his reserves.
Jonathan’s Divine Aegis blazed brighter, golden light cutting through enemies, but each swing cost more than he could afford.
Ben’s Inferno Dominion erupted, flames consuming everything nearby, friend and foe alike forced back by overwhelming heat.
Alexander’s Aegis Eternal created overlapping shields, but creatures were smashing through them like they were paper.
Raymond’s wind barriers formed and collapsed and formed again, each iteration weaker than the last.
David’s healing Aura flowed constantly, keeping people alive through injuries that should have killed them, his reserves draining to nothing.
Sophia’s telekinesis hurled corpses and debris, creating momentary barriers, buying precious seconds.
But it wasn’t enough...
Time seemed to slow.
Lysa fired arrow after arrow, her ice-blue Aura creating perfect shots, each one finding vulnerable points despite the chaos.
Then she saw it.
Zavier, exhausted and surrounded, about to be killed by a creature descending from above.
"NO!"
Her scream tore through the battle.
Her body was already moving before her mind gave permission.
Two creatures between her and Zavier. Her arrows killed them both – clean shots, throat and eye, the kind of precision that only came from pushing her skill past its limits.
She reached him...
And shoved him aside with everything she had.
"NOOO!"
Zavier’s scream mixed with Edrin and Ronan’s simultaneous cries.
"LYSA!"
The creature’s hand closed around her small frame.
CRUNCH!
Her ribs shattered, blood exploding from her mouth, organs rupturing from the pressure.
It lifted her upward, its jaws opening wide, preparing to consume her while she was still alive.
And Lysa Morwen’s life flashed before her eyes.
Not slowly or gently. Not the way stories described it – a warm light, a peaceful review and a final reckoning with the divine.
It came like a dam breaking. Every memory she’d ever formed, crashing through her consciousness in shattered pieces, tearing through her mind faster than she could hold onto any single one.
****
A kitchen, small and warm, that had sunlight coming through a window that always stuck.
Her mother stood at the stove, humming something without melody, the sound filling the room the way only a mother’s absent humming could.
Her father sat at the table reading a report, his work uniform still on, boots still muddy from the routes he walked every day.
Lysa, maybe four years old, sat between them on the floor, trying to draw a bird with crayons that were too thick for her small fingers.
The bird looked nothing like a bird.
She held it up.
"Mama, look!"
Her mother turned, looked at the drawing with the most serious expression a person could give a four-year-old’s scribble, and said –
"That’s the most beautiful bird I’ve ever seen, baby."
Her father glanced over his report, smiled and went back to reading.
She’d wanted him to say something too.
But he didn’t.
She never told him that it mattered.
****
The morning she left for Stormhold Academy, fifteen years old, bag packed, standing at the front door while the sky opened up like it was trying to wash the whole city away.
Her mother appeared behind her, pressing something into her hands.
A blue umbrella.
"You’ll catch a cold."
"Mom, I will generate Aura soon, I won’t get col–"
"Take the umbrella, Lysa."
She took the umbrella.
Her father had left for patrol before dawn but there was a note on the kitchen table: "Make us proud. Come home safe. – Dad"
Seven words... That was the most her father had ever written to her at once.
She’d read it four times, folded it carefully, and put it inside her bag where it still sat, creased and soft from months of being carried everywhere.
She hadn’t hugged her mother long enough, she remembered that now as she’d been in a hurry, the train was leaving.
She’d pulled away too quickly and said "I’ll be fine, Mom" and walked into the rain with the blue umbrella her mother had given her.
She should have held on longer.
She should have waited for her father.
She should have said more than "I’ll be fine."
****
A corridor, stormhold Academy, first day.
A boy walking ahead of her with dark crimson hair, hands in his pockets.
He didn’t look at anyone, didn’t acknowledge the crowd of nervous first-years, just walked like the hallway belonged to him and everyone else was borrowing it.
’What an unfriendly person.’
That was her first thought about Damian Valcor.