Chapter 114 The First Blow
The Void doesn’t wait for permission.
It surged the moment we stepped into Milo’s fractured mindscape, twisting the ground beneath us into jagged obsidian and violet flame. The air smelled like burnt memories and betrayal. Above us, the sky cracked open like a broken mirror, and from it poured the first wave of constructs.
They looked like Milo.
Not exactly. Not the Milo we knew. These were distorted—too tall, too thin, eyes glowing with Void and mouths stitched shut. They moved like shadows trying to remember how to be human.
Thessa was the first to react.
“Okay,” she said, conjuring a fireball the size of a carriage. “I officially hate this place.”
She hurled it at the nearest construct. It exploded in a burst of flame and regret.
Kael drew two swords and charged. “No talking. Just stabbing.”
“Finally,” Lira muttered, summoning a wall of flaming water. “Something we can hit.”
Zeke pulled out his grappling hook. “I’ve been waiting for this moment my whole life.”
Yuel raised an eyebrow. “You say that about breakfast.”
“It was a good breakfast, there were scones.” Zeke replied, swinging into the fray.
Ellira stayed back, sketching runes into the ground to stabilize the terrain. Aine stood beside her, her light pushing back the Void’s influence like a calm tide against a storm.
And I?
I hesitated.
Because every construct looked a little too much like him. I didn’t know if I could hurt Milo. I didn’t know if I wanted to. But as I watched my friends and the Flameborn fight for Milo, I knew that I couldn’t just stand on the sidelines.
The first wave hit hard.
Thessa’s flames kept them at bay, but they adapted quickly—twisting around her spells, absorbing heat, turning it into kinetic force. One slammed into Kael, sending him flying into a wall of broken glass.
“I’m fine!” he shouted. “Just emotionally shattered!”
Lira sliced through two constructs with a blade of pure flaming water. “You’ve always been emotionally shattered.”
Zeke swung from a floating shard of memory, kicking a construct in the face. “I’m calling this one ‘Milo’s Bad Mood #3.’”
Yuel stabbed another through the chest. “I already used that name, so pick something else. Also, they don’t bleed. That’s unsettling.”
“They’re made of guilt,” Ellira said. “You can’t stab guilt. Unfortunately.”
“Watch me,” Kael growled, getting back up.
Aine raised her hands, and a wave of golden light surged outward, slowing the constructs. “They’re fragments of Milo’s mind. We need to reach the core before they overwhelm us.”
I nodded, forcing myself to move.
Because if we didn’t fight through this—
We’d never reach him. And I would lose him forever, and that was something that I couldn’t do. He was the last blood family that I had that cared about me, that wanted the best for me. I couldn’t and wouldn’t allow him to stay lost from me forever.
We pushed forward.
The terrain shifted with every step. One moment we were on solid ground, the next we were balancing on floating shards of Milo’s memories—his first spell, his first failure, Talon’s death.
Thessa paused at one shard, her eyes narrowing. “This is the moment he blamed himself.”
Lira glanced at it. “He’s not wrong. Personally, I would have started before this moment, but I think that he isn’t too far off base.”
“Lira,” I snapped.
“What?” she said. “We’re in his mind. If we don’t face the truth, we’ll drown in his lies.”
A construct lunged at her.
She didn’t flinch.
Just incinerated it with a flick of her wrist.
“See?” she said. “Truth burns cleaner.”
Zeke landed beside me, panting. “I’m starting to think Milo needs a therapist more than a rescue team.”
Yuel stabbed another construct. “We’re the closest thing he’s got.”
Ellira’s runes glowed brighter. “The core’s close. But the constructs are getting stronger.”
Aine nodded. “He’s resisting.”
I looked up.
And saw him.
Milo stood on a platform above us, surrounded by swirling Void.
He looked down, eyes glowing, smile soft, wiggling his finger back and forth, indicating that I was being naughty.
“You came, naughty, naughty,” he said.
“We never left,” I replied.
He tilted his head. “You should have. But if you want to play, then let's play.”
The constructs screamed.
And the second wave hit.
These were worse.
Faster. Smarter. Crueler.
They mimicked our voices. Our fears. One looked like Talon. Another looked like me.
Thessa froze.
Kael hesitated.
Lira snarled. “He’s weaponizing our memories.”
Zeke screamed, “I just saw my ex! She’s still mad about the sword!”
Yuel stabbed a construct that looked like his father. “This is getting personal.”
Ellira’s hands shook. “I can’t hold the runes much longer.”
Aine stepped forward, her light flaring. “Mo. You need to reach him.”
I nodded.
And ran.
The path to Milo was chaos.
Constructs lunged from every angle. The ground cracked. The sky wept violet rain. I dodged, rolled, stabbed, and screamed.
And then I saw him. I didn’t stop running.
He stood alone.
Calm.
Broken.
“Milo,” I said. I full-on tackled him to the ground.
As we hit the ground, he let out a wosh of air. Part of me was incredibly pleased that I managed to take him by surprise.
He looked at me. Slightly shocked.
“You shouldn’t be here.”
“I had to tell on you,” I said. “To mother.”
He blinked.
Then laughed.
“You always knew how to make me feel guilty.”
“I’m not here to guilt you,” I said. “I’m here to bring you back.”
He tried to move, but I wrapped myself around him tighter. Not letting go.
The Void surged.
And the third wave began.