Chapter 202 Humans Lose: Alaric Escapes

While Alaric, Lyra, and Cassandra were carving a path through the lower levels of the Demon Fortress, a much larger and more brutal conflict was unfolding in its core regions. The Archmages and Martial Kings of the Eloriath Kingdom, each a powerhouse in their own right, had indeed managed to overcome the initial demonic defenses and were now locked in a desperate struggle against the most powerful Archdemons the Nightmare Legion had to offer.

Archmage Gideon Thorne, his staff crackling with arcane energy, unleashed a barrage of high-level spells against a hulking Archdemon with skin like hardened obsidian and massive, razor-sharp claws. “Arcane Detonation!” he roared, and spheres of pure magical energy slammed into the Archdemon, causing it to stagger but not fall.

Martial King Patrick, his enchanted greatsword imbued with holy power, traded blows with another Archdemon, a serpentine creature with multiple heads that spat corrosive venom. “For the Light!” he bellowed, his sword deflecting a stream of acid that would have melted steel.

Archmage Rahel Klinghoffer, her control over elemental magic absolute, conjured a massive blizzard, freezing the movements of a winged Archdemon that attempted to attack from above. “Absolute Zero Domain!” she intoned, the air around the creature turning into a frigid expanse.

But the Archdemons were formidable foes, their power immense and their resilience terrifying. The battle was a chaotic whirlwind of powerful magic and brutal physical attacks. Despite their combined might, the leaders of the Eloriath Kingdom were taking heavy losses. Archmage Lyra Meadowlight, in a moment of distraction, was struck by a blast of dark energy from an Archdemon, forcing her to retreat with a severe burn. Martial King Madleen Hector, while bravely defending Archmage Theron Blackwood, was caught in a demonic explosion and fell, her armor shattered and her life extinguished. A collective gasp of horror and grief rippled through the human forces witnessing the battle from afar.

And then, as if the situation couldn’t get any worse, the leader of the demon forces finally made his appearance. Ingranad, the Third Prince of the Obsidian Revenant, descended into the core chamber, his very presence radiating an aura of overwhelming power and malevolence. He was a tall, imposing figure clad in black, ornate armor that seemed to absorb all light. His eyes glowed with a cold, intelligent crimson light, and a wicked-looking, serrated blade hung at his hip.

“So,” Ingranad’s voice echoed through the chamber, smooth and chillingly calm, “these are the valiant heroes of Eloriath who dare to trespass on our domain? You are proving to be more troublesome than anticipated.” He surveyed the injured and fallen humans with a look of cold disdain. “Your efforts are futile. This fortress will be your grave.”

Meanwhile, Alaric, with Lyra and Cassandra close behind, was indeed advancing rapidly through the fortress. Having cleared their section of any significant resistance after defeating Yilvit, they were making good time towards the heart of the corrupted academy. However, as they rounded a corner in a particularly high vantage point, they found themselves with a clear view of the massive chamber where the epic battle was unfolding.

Alaric stopped, his ruby eyes widening slightly at the sheer scale of the conflict. He could see the flashes of powerful magic, the clashes of weapons against demonic hides, and the terrifying figures of the Archdemons locked in combat with the Eloriath Kingdom’s leaders. He could even make out the imposing figure of Ingranad standing amidst the chaos, observing the battle with an air of detached superiority.

‘That’s… quite the brawl,’ Alaric thought, a hint of awe mixed with a healthy dose of self-preservation. ‘Those Archdemons are on a whole different level. And that must be Ingranad… he’s radiating power like a miniature sun.’

He instinctively pulled Lyra and Cassandra closer, his arms wrapping around their waists, their soft bodies pressed against his. “We’re not getting involved in that mess,” he muttered, his gaze fixed on the unfolding battle. “No point in uselessly risking our necks in a fight like that. Let the heroes play their part.”

Lyra, her own eyes wide with apprehension, nodded in agreement. “It looks incredibly dangerous, Alaric.”

Cassandra added, “We wouldn’t stand a chance against those Archdemons, nephew.”

Alaric held them tighter, his inner thoughts focused solely on their safety. ‘My priority is you two. If things go south down there, we’re getting out of here. Fast.’ He scanned their surroundings, already mentally mapping out potential escape routes. As for the other warriors who had been following them, he gave them barely a second thought. ‘They can fend for themselves. My concern is with my mother and my dear Auntie Cassandra.’

They watched from their vantage point as the battle in the core chamber raged on. The Archmages and Martial Kings fought with incredible courage and skill, but the Archdemons were relentless, their power seemingly inexhaustible. The appearance of Ingranad had clearly shifted the momentum in the demons’ favor, his mere presence casting a pall of dread over the human forces.

Alaric could see Archmage Gideon unleashing a massive arcane storm, only for Ingranad to casually wave his hand, dissipating the magical energy as if it were nothing. He witnessed Martial King Patrick land a powerful blow on an Archdemon, only for the creature to regenerate the wound almost instantly. The situation looked grim.

‘That Ingranad… he’s the real threat here,’ Alaric mused, his mind racing. ‘Even with my Spiritual Energy, taking him on right now, with those Archdemons still active… it would be suicide.’ His gaze flickered back to Lyra and Cassandra, his resolve hardening. ‘My duty is to protect them. Engaging in a battle of that magnitude would be foolish.’

They continued to observe the unfolding conflict, the sounds of battle – roars, explosions, and the clash of steel – echoing up to their vantage point. Alaric kept a tight grip on Lyra and Cassandra, ready to teleport them away at a moment’s notice if the situation became too dire. He had no desire to become a martyr in this war. His goals were his own, and they revolved around his growing power and the well-being of the two beautiful women in his arms.

~~

The battle in the core chamber raged with increasing ferocity. The Archmages and Martial Kings, though weary and battered, fought with the desperation of those who knew the fate of their kingdom rested upon their shoulders. Archmage Gideon, despite a deep gash across his arm, continued to unleash powerful arcane blasts, his face grim with determination. ‘We have to hold them here,’ he thought, gritting his teeth as he dodged a swipe from the obsidian-skinned Archdemon. ‘If they break through, the entire kingdom will fall.’

Martial King Patrick, his armor scorched and dented, roared defiance as he parried another venomous strike from the multi-headed serpentine Archdemon. “By the Radiant God, you foul beasts will not prevail!” he bellowed, his every muscle straining with the effort. ‘My stamina is fading,’ he thought, his movements becoming slightly slower. ‘But I will fight until my last breath.’

Archmage Rahel, though maintaining a semblance of control over the elements, was visibly tiring. Her blizzard had managed to slow the winged Archdemon, but it was still a formidable threat, its icy form occasionally breaking free to launch swift attacks. ‘Their numbers… their power… it’s overwhelming,’ she thought, sweat beading on her forehead as she conjured another wave of freezing winds.

Just as the human forces were beginning to falter, their hope dwindling with each passing moment, Ingranad made a subtle gesture, and from the shadows emerged another figure – Principal Bartolmew, now utterly transformed into a terrifying demon. His once familiar features were twisted into a grotesque mask of demonic corruption. His eyes glowed with the same cold crimson light as Ingranad’s, and his body was now lean and muscular, covered in dark, chitinous plates. He wore tattered remnants of his Verdant Dawn Academy robes, a mocking reminder of his former life. He did not speak, his silence more chilling than any taunt, his very presence radiating a malevolent energy that sent a fresh wave of dread through the exhausted humans.

Ingranad turned slightly towards Bartolmew, a hint of a cruel smile on his lips. “Welcome to the fold, Bartholomew. Show our guests the fruits of your transformation.”

Bartolmew merely nodded, his gaze fixed on the struggling Archmages. Without a word, he unleashed his demonic power. The spatial magic he once wielded with such precision was now corrupted and twisted. The very air around Archmage Gideon warped and distorted, as if unseen forces were trying to crush him. Gideon cried out in pain as his bones audibly cracked under the immense pressure.

‘Spatial magic… still as deadly as ever,’ Gideon thought, his vision blurring as he desperately tried to erect a protective arcane shield.

Bartolmew then focused on Martial King Patrick. The space around the warrior shimmered, and suddenly, the very ground beneath his feet seemed to shift and crumble, opening up a gaping chasm of swirling dark energy. Patrick roared in surprise as he plummeted into the abyss, his fate uncertain.

Archmage Rahel, witnessing the horrifying transformation of her former colleague and the immediate devastation he wrought, felt a surge of despair. ‘Bartolmew… what have they done to you?’ she thought, her concentration wavering for a moment. It was a fatal mistake. The winged Archdemon, sensing her distraction, broke free from the icy restraints and swooped down with terrifying speed, its razor-sharp talons tearing through her robes and inflicting deep wounds. Rahel cried out in pain as she stumbled back, clutching her bleeding side.

Ingranad watched the carnage with an air of detached amusement. “Such… predictable resistance,” he drawled, his gaze sweeping over the battered human leaders. “You cling to your hope, to your ‘Radiant God,’ but it is all meaningless in the face of true power.”

The Archdemons, emboldened by the arrival of Bartolmew and Ingranad’s presence, pressed their attack with renewed vigor. The obsidian-skinned Archdemon slammed its massive claws into Archmage Gideon’s arcane shield, shattering it with a deafening crack. Gideon, weakened and injured, could only watch in horror as the demon’s claws reached for him.

The multi-headed serpentine Archdemon, having dealt with Patrick, turned its attention to the remaining humans, spitting streams of corrosive venom that melted through stone and armor alike. Archmage Theron Blackwood barely managed to erect a protective ward, but the acidic spray ate away at it rapidly.

Bartolmew continued his silent assault, his corrupted spatial magic creating pockets of crushing pressure and unpredictable rifts in the very fabric of reality, making it nearly impossible for the remaining Archmages to maintain their footing or launch effective counterattacks. His presence was a constant, silent threat, his demonic power a terrifying perversion of the skill he once possessed.

Ingranad himself finally decided to join the fray, his movements swift and deadly despite his imposing size. He moved with an almost supernatural speed, his serrated blade flashing as he cut down any human who dared to get in his way. Archmage Lyra, still weakened from her earlier injury, attempted to intercept him with a blast of fire magic, but Ingranad simply flicked his wrist, and the flames dissipated into nothingness. He then struck with his blade, the dark energy emanating from it tearing through her protective enchantments and leaving a deep, bleeding wound across her chest. Lyra gasped and collapsed, her life force rapidly draining away.

The scene in the core chamber was one of utter devastation. The once proud Archmages and Martial Kings of the Eloriath Kingdom were being systematically overwhelmed by the superior power of the Archdemons, led by the formidable Ingranad and the terrifyingly corrupted Bartolmew. The demons moved with a brutal efficiency, their attacks relentless and unforgiving. The humans, exhausted, injured, and facing an enemy far stronger than they had anticipated, were fighting a losing battle. Hope was fading, and the shadow of defeat loomed large over the fate of the Eloriath Kingdom. The overwhelming power of the Nightmare Legion, now fully unleashed, was proving to be more than the weary heroes could handle.

~~

From their vantage point, the unfolding tragedy in the core chamber was undeniable. Alaric watched as one by one, the mighty leaders of the Eloriath Kingdom fell before the overwhelming power of the Archdemons and Ingranad. The sight of Martial King Madleen’s demise had sent a cold shiver down his spine, and the brutal injury inflicted upon Archmage Lyra Meadowlight confirmed his fears.

‘They’re being slaughtered,’ Alaric thought, his ruby eyes narrowed with a calculating glint. ‘There’s no point in staying here. This isn’t my fight. My priority is survival… and them.’ He glanced at Lyra and Cassandra, holding them a little tighter. The sounds of the brutal battle echoed up to them, a grim testament to the losing struggle.

“We’re leaving,” Alaric declared, his voice firm and devoid of emotion. There was no room for sentimentality in this situation.

Lyra and Cassandra, witnessing the carnage below, didn’t question his decision. They trusted Alaric’s judgment, especially when it came to their safety.

Without another word, Alaric took both his mother and his aunt firmly in his arms, one under each. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, focusing his will. Then, with a roar that seemed to shake the very stones of the fortress, he unleashed the full, untamed power of his Azure Spirit Lion.

A blinding azure light erupted around Alaric, and the majestic avatar of the Spirit Lion materialized once more, this time far more vibrant and powerful than before. Its roar was not just a spiritual projection but a tangible force, causing a tremor that ran through the Demon Fortress. The sudden burst of immense spiritual energy caused a noticeable commotion even in the midst of the fierce battle below. Heads turned, both demonic and human, towards the source of the powerful surge. Ingranad’s crimson eyes narrowed, a flicker of surprise crossing his usually impassive face.

“What in the abyss…?” he muttered, his attention momentarily diverted from the struggling Archmages.

Taking advantage of the momentary distraction, Alaric didn’t hesitate. With the Azure Spirit Lion’s power coursing through him, granting him incredible strength and agility, he leaped upwards, shattering the stone floor beneath his feet. He burst through the ceiling of their vantage point, ascending rapidly towards the open sky. The wind howled around them as they soared upwards, leaving the chaos and despair of the Demon Fortress behind.

As they flew, Alaric could sense the lingering demonic magic circles etched into the very fabric of the fortress and the surrounding airspace. They pulsed with dark energy, attempting to ensnare and corrupt anything that tried to escape. But Alaric was prepared. Unleashing a torrent of his own magic, now amplified by the Azure Spirit Lion’s essence, he blasted through the magical barriers.

“Azure Inferno Dragon’s Breath!” he roared, and a colossal stream of azure-infused flames erupted from his mouth, incinerating a particularly dense layer of demonic enchantment that tried to block their path.

“Azure Glacial Lance Barrage!” He followed up with a volley of razor-sharp ice spears, each crackling with spiritual energy, shattering any lingering magical resistance. The sky around them shimmered and cracked as Alaric’s powerful magic tore through the demonic seals.

The rapid ascent and the exertion of breaking through the magical barriers were taking a toll on Alaric’s magic reserves once again. He could feel his energy beginning to wane. Lyra and Cassandra, sensing his fatigue, instinctively knew what they had to do.

Lyra, nestled in his left arm, shifted her position, pressing her soft breasts against his side. She leaned up and began to shower his face with passionate kisses, her lips moving over his with a desperate urgency.

Cassandra, held securely in his right arm, mirrored her sister’s actions. She rubbed her curvaceous hips against his leg, her body moving in a slow, sensual rhythm. She nuzzled her face against his neck, her warm breath sending shivers down his spine.

“Don’t worry, Alaric, my love,” Lyra whispered in his ear, her voice filled with affection. “We’ll help you recover.”

“Just focus on getting us out of here, nephew,” Cassandra added, her hand gently caressing his chest.

Alaric groaned softly, the feeling of their bodies against his and their loving ministrations incredibly stimulating. His Harem God System was working at full capacity, drawing energy from their physical contact and their willing affection. The more they pressed against him, the more quickly his magic began to return.

Lyra’s kisses became more fervent, her hands now moving to caress his face and neck. Cassandra’s movements grew bolder, her breasts rubbing against his arm with each sway of their flight. She even leaned up and gently bit his earlobe, eliciting a low growl from him.

As they continued their ascent, Alaric’s hands, though still occupied with carrying them, couldn’t resist the temptation. His fingers instinctively tightened around their bodies, enjoying the feel of their curves. He shifted his grip slightly, his thumbs brushing against Lyra’s soft breasts, earning a soft gasp from her. He then did the same with Cassandra, feeling her nipple harden beneath his touch.

Their intimate actions became more pronounced as Alaric’s magic reserves slowly began to replenish. Lyra’s kisses deepened, her tongue tangling with his, while Cassandra continued her sensual rubbing against his leg. The wind whipped around them as they soared through the sky, leaving the Demon Fortress shrinking behind them, but within Alaric’s arms, a different kind of storm was brewing – a storm of passion and revitalizing energy. They continued their intimate embrace as they flew further and further away from the corrupted academy, their escape a testament to Alaric’s power and the unwavering devotion of the two beautiful women in his arms.