Chapter 97 Elena Heart- POV
"You dare bring lightning to a storm?" Xavier’s voice boomed across the square, amplified by his mana until it shook the glass in the surrounding tenements. He didn't look like the passive puppet the Council had whispered about; he looked like a god demanding a blood tithe.
"Show-off," I muttered, a sassy grin breaking through the soot on my face.
I whirled around, slicing the ropes binding the terrified weavers. "Alleys. Now. Don't look back." They scrambled off the stage just as a fresh wave of twenty elite guards poured out from the barracks, their heavy armor clanking rhythmically.
"You can't dodge all of us, rogue!" the lieutenant with the toxic blade roared, lunging at me with a high-speed piercing strike.
"Who said anything about dodging?"
I planted my feet and thrust my right hand forward, unleashing the full, unmitigated power of the Void-Anchor. "Let's see how well you swing those when they weigh a thousand pounds!"
The emerald ring flashed a violent, deep jade, creating a localized gravity vortex. Instead of swallowing wealth, I manipulated the magnetic pull of the subpocket.
The sheer kinetic force slammed into the advancing guards. The weapons in their hands, the chainmail on their chests, the iron tips of their boots, everything made of metal was violently yanked toward my outstretched palm.
The lieutenant was lifted off his feet, dragged forward by his own glowing sword.
As he flew toward me, panicked and defenseless, I stepped inside his guard, caught the hilt of his weapon, twisted it out of his grip, and used the pommel to shatter his jaw.
Behind him, five more armored guards were sucked into a tangled, metal dogpile at the base of the stage, completely pinned by the crushing weight of their own gear.
"Elena, behind you!" Xavier’s warning echoed through the tether.
A mage in the back rank was finalizing a high-tier fireball spell, the air shimmering with deadly heat.
I didn't have time to close the distance, but I didn't need to. Through our connection, I tapped into Xavier’s deep pool of royal mana.
The emerald ring absorbed his blue lightning energy, turning the sea-foam light into a crackling, turquoise tempest.
I threw my arm out, releasing a pressurized gale-force wind infused with Xavier's lightning. The hybrid spell erupted from the ring, obliterating the fireball mid-air and sending the mage crashing through the heavy oak doors of the guardhouse.
The remaining mercenaries froze. They looked at the shattered courtyard, their paralyzed allies, the lightning-wielding King on the roof, and me, standing on the executioner's block with a stolen sword and a glowing alien relic.
The greed in their eyes had completely vanished, replaced by a pure, paralyzing terror.
"Well?" I asked, tilting my head, letting the toxic green blade scrape lazily against the stone. "Are we going to keep fighting, or are you boys going to go tell Duke Hallway that his eviction notice has been denied?"
Without a word, the surviving guards threw down their weapons and fled into the blinding rain.
Xavier vaulted down from the sixty-foot parapet, using a localized kinetic burst to soften his landing.
He landed right beside the platform, the mud splashing around his silver-runed boots. He didn't say a word about the battle.
He just marched up the wooden steps, grabbed me by the waist, and pulled me flush against his chest.
"Not a scratch," he rasped, his eyes burning as his thumb traced my jaw, wiping away a smear of black ash.
"Told you I was efficient, Your Majesty," I whispered, my heart hammering against his ribs, the sass melting into a breathless, adrenaline-fueled heat.
"And look on the bright side, we just completely dismantled the Council's enforcement in the North District."
"Then let's finish the job," Xavier murmured, his voice a low, dangerous growl as he looked toward the smoking palace in the distance.
"The capital belongs to the people now. Let's go take the crown back from the rats."
The adrenaline that had carried us through the blood and lightning of the North Gate began to evaporate, leaving behind a heavy, bone-deep exhaustion.
The Black-Iron Ravens had successfully melted into the alleys, escorting the rescued weavers to safe houses in the deep underground.
For now, the city was quiet, huddled in terror behind locked doors as the storm finally broke overhead, washing the blood from the cobblestones.
Xavier didn’t take us back to the watchtower. Instead, he led me to an abandoned, centuries-old safe house hidden beneath the roots of a weeping willow near the riverbank.
It was a place built by a long-dead Drakmor king for emergencies: low stone ceilings, a hearth made of dark river rock, and arched windows that looked out over the rain-lashed water.
Inside, the only sound was the rhythmic patter-patter of the deluge against the thick glass. The air was cool, smelling of damp earth and old cedar.
I sat on the edge of a velvet chaise lounge, the silk-steel armor feeling suddenly too heavy, too restrictive.
My hands were still uncharacteristically quiet. The emerald ring had dimmed to a soft, rhythmic breathing pattern, its jade light pulsing lazily against the dark room.
Xavier moved silently, his heavy plate armor already discarded, leaving him in a loose, dark tunic that clung to the broad planes of his shoulders.
He knelt by the hearth, stoking a small fire until a warm, golden glow began to chase away the shadows.
He didn't speak. He didn't ask about the next phase of the plan, or how much gold we had left, or what Duke Hallway’s next move would be.
The silence between us wasn't tense; it was thick, heavy with the realization that we had survived another day against the gods themselves.
The fire crackled, casting a warm, amber glow across the stone floor of the safe house, while the rain outside continued its relentless, rhythmic drumming against the windowpanes.
The room was safe, a quiet pocket of existence isolated from the collapsing empire above us.
I sat on the edge of the velvet lounge, my fingers fumbling blindly with the stubborn, rain-slicked buckles of my silk-steel armor. My hands, usually so precise and lethal, were trembling with a deep, bone-weary exhaustion.
The leather straps had shrunk from the rain and the mud, tightening around my ribs until it felt hard to draw a full breath.
"Stop," a low, gravelly voice commanded softly.
Xavier stepped into the firelight. He had already discarded his heavy plate, wearing only a loose, dark tunic that was damp at the collar, revealing the sharp lines of his collarbone.
He knelt on the floor directly between my knees, his massive frame completely eclipsing the rest of the room.