Chapter 748: [Final Event] [Blood Moon Festival] [30] Aerinwyn VS Cyril

"What are you doing here?" Aerinwyn’s cold gaze didn’t bother landing on Cyril—instead it pinned itself directly on Kendel.

"I had something to settle with Cyril," Kendel replied.

"So you escaped after all," Aerinwyn replied, her expression hardening into contempt. "A traitorous, despicable little insect like you... did you decide to team up with another traitorous piece of filth like Cyril?"

Kendel let out a faint breath, unamused. "Do we seriously look like allies to you?"

Aerinwyn stared at him for a long, heavy moment. Then she stretched out her hand, and with a muted shimmer an ornate green blade materialized in her grasp.

"Not that it matters," she said. "You’re both dying here."

-BOOOM!!

Her mana erupted outward in a violent shockwave, the air distorting around her.

"What an annoying woman," Cyril muttered with a smirk. But the moment he sensed killing intent behind him, he pivoted and swung his sword.

Kendel’s blade—Alvara’s—came crashing toward him in a savage arc.

-BOOM!!

Cyril propelled himself backward with a burst of mana, dodging both Kendel and Aerinwyn—who lunged straight for Kendel instead.

Kendel reacted instantly, swinging his sword to meet her strike.

-BOOOM!

The impact sent him skidding backward across the dirt, boots digging furrows in the ground until he finally forced himself to stop. Even then, he was straining—Aerinwyn’s mana pressed against his blade like the weight of a mountain.

"You can deal with me later," Kendel said through gritted teeth. "Right now Cyril takes priority. If he finishes that spell of his... no one’s stopping what comes next. And he’s close."

Aerinwyn didn’t answer. She simply pushed off the ground, springing backward just as Cyril unleashed a swarm of bloody lances at them.

Kendel moved in a blur, his blade slicing through most of the lances before they could reach them, though a few grazed him—thin crimson lines blooming across his arms. He jumped back from the last volley as they hammered into the earth.

-BOOOOM!!

He looked up just as Aerinwyn re-engaged Cyril.

Their swords collided again and again, a flurry of metal and mana. Each clash released shockwaves that rippled outward, shaking the buildings, cracking the dirt. Aerinwyn fought like a storm given form—every swing of her sword carried a burst of wind so sharp it shredded Cyril’s arms despite his speed.

Cyril’s regeneration sealed the wounds almost instantly, but even he knew how this would end if he let her keep momentum.

"As expected... I should have killed you a long time ago," Cyril muttered—then smiled.

Blood surged outward from his body, swirling into a dense cocoon that forced Aerinwyn to step back. She didn’t hesitate; she thrust her blade straight into the crimson mass.

The cocoon burst.

Blood exploded around her weapon and arm, clinging to her like living chains, hardening and restraining her movements.

Cyril appeared beside her in an instant, blade gleaming with murderous intent as he swung at her exposed side.

Aerinwyn didn’t panic. Her eyes remained calm, ready to counter—but a vine snapped out from behind Cyril, coiling tightly around his wrist and yanking him away from her.

Cyril clicked his tongue.

Kendel materialized behind him and launched a brutal kick. Cyril twisted his arm up to block, but—

-CRACK!

Even with regeneration, he felt the bone give before the force launched him through the air.

He spun midair—and instantly spotted Aerinwyn already waiting for him, blade raised.

Cyril smirked. Bloody spikes formed above him, dozens of them, hovering like a crimson constellation before raining down toward Aerinwyn.

She barely turned. A glowing green magic circle blossomed behind her, beautifully crafted—one of her original spells.

The blood spikes shot through the circle...and disintegrated into a fine red dust as they passed.

The red dust drifted across the air like scattered ash, dissolving into nothingness as Aerinwyn lowered her arm when Cyril managed to get his stance back.

His smirk tightened into something irritated.

Kendel landed lightly beside Aerinwyn, though neither spared the other more than half a glance. At the very least she took Kendel’s words seriously or maybe she felt that indeed Cyril was the most dangerous and needed to be dealt with quickly.

Cyril cracked his neck. "Two against one... what an inconvenience."

His blood slithered around him in twisting tendrils, reacting to his mood like living serpents eager to bite.

Aerinwyn let out a short breath.

"Stop talking."

Her voice was colder than before.

Kendel shifted his stance, vines coiling around his forearms like gauntlets, their green glow pulsing with life. "Let’s finish this."

Cyril smiled.

"Then come."

-BOOOOOM!!!

The ground fractured under the force of their simultaneous movements.

Aerinwyn was the first to reach him—her blade slicing through the air, a gust of wind screaming along its edge. Cyril dodged by a hair, his body bending unnaturally.

But Kendel was already above him.

Vines exploded downward from Kendel’s sleeve like a net, dozens of them, thorns glistening with poisonous mana. Cyril clicked his tongue and slashed upward with a wide arc.

A crimson wave of blood tore the vines apart midair.

But Kendel wasn’t done. The instant his vines were shredded, fresh ones burst from the fractured ground below Cyril, spiraling up like a dozen serpents aiming for his legs.

Instead of dodging, Cyril plunged his hand into the earth.

Blood seeped from his fingers, spreading in a red flash across the soil.

The vines that touched it wilted instantly—then rotted into black sludge.

"Try harder," Cyril said.

Aerinwyn did.

Wind surged around her feet as she lunged again, the air itself bending to her speed. Her next slash didn’t just aim for Cyril—it carved a semi-circle of compressed wind that shot forward like a scythe.

Cyril swept his sword upward.

-BOOOM!!

The wind-scythe shattered into spiraling currents, whipping violently around them.

But Cyril didn’t anticipate Kendel appearing behind him at the exact moment the wind burst. Kendel materialized with mana-charged speed, slamming his foot down with enough force to rupture the ground.

Vines shot out everywhere—hundreds of them.

Cyril’s eyes widened briefly, then narrowed. "Persistent—"

Before he could counter, Aerinwyn snapped her fingers.

The scattered wind currents from her shattered spell obeyed her call and converged—hard.

They compressed into razor-thin gusts and shot toward Cyril from every angle.

Cyril’s mana flared. Blood erupted from his skin like armor.

Wind blades collided into the blood shield.

Dozens of tiny cuts opened across Cyril’s arms and shoulders. His regeneration flared immediately, but this time it wasn’t fast enough to erase everything.

He groaned, annoyed.

Kendel seized the opening. Vines thick as tree trunks burst upward, curving toward Cyril as they hardened with bark-like density. Cyril spun, his sword slicing through two, three, four of them—but he couldn’t cut the last.

A vine snapped around his ankle like a trap.

Cyril’s expression tightened. "Tch—"

Aerinwyn reacted instantly. She raised her sword—and the air above her compressed into a visible sphere of swirling wind.

"Fall."

She swung downward.

The sphere burst into a tsunami of slicing wind.

It slammed into Cyril’s side squarely sending him crashing into a fractured wall of stone.

-BOOOOOOM!!!

Dust exploded everywhere, and for a moment Cyril vanished inside it.

Kendel didn’t wait for the dust to clear. He thrust his hands forward and hundreds more vines erupted in a wave, sealing the entire crater Cyril had smashed into.

Aerinwyn spun her sword lightly, air gathering around her like a storm responding to its master. "He is not dead."

"Obviously not."

The ground trembled.

Kendel’s vines bulged.

Crimson light seeped through them.

Then—

A geyser of blood burst outward, shredding the vines into fine chunks. The blood rose like a pillar, and as its height peaked, Cyril slowly stepped out of it—almost serene.

His entire body was drenched in blood, more like a creature birthed from it than a man.

"You two..." Cyril’s smile now carried a wild edge. "...are annoying."

A drop of blood slid down his cheek—but instead of falling, it rose, hovering in front of his face.

Then multiplied.

Hundreds of small blood orbs floated around him like glimmering red fireflies—each one buzzing with lethal mana.

Kendel cursed under his breath. "Those aren’t normal."

Aerinwyn’s eyes sharpened. She had seen these before.

"Move."

But Cyril didn’t give them time.

"Scatter."

Every orb shot outward at blinding speeds, creating a 360-degree storm of blood-needles.

Aerinwyn dashed back, wind exploding beneath her feet. Kendel slammed his palm into the ground, a tidal wave of thick roots rising in front of him as a shield.

The blood-needles hit.

Roots shattered and splintered. The ones that held resisted only for seconds before crumbling under the crimson hail.

Aerinwyn’s wind barrier held longer, but even that began to fracture, small red holes puncturing through the gale.

Cyril watched with amusement.

Their defenses broke.

Wind and roots both shattered.

Aerinwyn and Kendel were forced to dodge individually, flipping, sliding, rolling—barely avoiding death.

But Cyril wasn’t done.

As Aerinwyn landed and slashed aside a final needle, Cyril already reappeared in front of her.

"It’s rude to run."

He slashed.

Aerinwyn’s eyes flashed. She dropped low, wind exploding around her, and the blade barely grazed her cheek.

Kendel appeared behind Cyril again, using his vines to propel himself like a catapult. He aimed a heavy, mana-packed punch straight for the back of Cyril’s skull.

Cyril didn’t even look.

Blood burst from his spine like a wall, intercepting Kendel’s punch.

-BOOOOM

Kendel was sent flying backward, crashing into a boulder and shattering it on impact.

Aerinwyn tried to follow up, but Cyril’s blood tendrils whipped toward her ankles. She leaped, twisting midair, and sliced three of them apart before landing in a roll.

Cyril tilted his head. "You’re both surprisingly coordinated for people who hate each other."

"We’re not coordinated," Kendel growled, pushing himself out of the rubble, coughing blood.

Cyril blinked, then laughed. "How cute."

His laughter cut short.

Because Kendel suddenly burst forward, vines lashing out like whips, some sharp, some blunted, some coiling, some stabbing—each infused with a different form of mana.

Cyril parried the first vine.

He was not ready for ninety-six more.

Kendel had long abandoned finesse. His attacks came from every direction—wildly, and violent. Like a forest in frenzy.

Cyril sliced through vines left and right, but the sheer volume overwhelmed him, forcing him to defend instead of counter.

That was exactly what Aerinwyn wanted.

She inhaled deeply.

The air around her shimmered, dancing like mirages in the heat.

Wind mana gathered—and gathered—and gathered.

Her feet lifted slightly off the ground as pressure swelled around her. Tiny pebbles vibrated, then lifted. Grass flattened outward in a spiral. Kendel’s vines swayed even as they attacked.

"...!"

Cyril’s instincts screamed danger.

He slashed through three more vines and tried to leap back.

A gust pinned him in place.

Aerinwyn’s cold green eyes rested on him before she released her spell.

Everything went silent for a moment.

Then it exploded.

-BOOOOM!!

A shockwave of razor wind burst outward from her, not in a straight line but in spiraling channels that tore the ground as they moved. The spirals danced across the battlefield, carving trenches into stone and uprooting trees planted in the streets.

Cyril roared as several spiraling blasts shredded across his legs and side, tearing flesh clean off before regeneration kicked in.

He retaliated instantly.

Blood exploded outward in a violent cyclone around him, consuming vines, dust, and even chunks of rock. The cyclone rose and expanded like a monstrous blooming flower.

Kendel cursed loudly. "HEY!!"

Aerinwyn had already moved.

But even her wind could not completely counter the expanding blood hurricane.

She sliced open a hole through the blood cyclone and jumped in without hesitation, her sword glowing with compressed wind.

Inside the blood storm, the world was red. Thick, choking, metallic. She could barely see—but she could sense Cyril’s mana.

She slashed upward.

Wind carved a line through the crimson haze.

Cyril leapt back into view, covered in writhing blood tendrils. "Reckless."

"You talk too much."

Wind gathered around her again—this time condensing around her legs.

Cyril’s eyes widened.

Aerinwyn vanished.

She reappeared in front of him and kicked him across the face with enough force to tear away half his cheek. Cyril’s body spun midair.

Before he could stabilize, vines shot in from below, wrapping his leg and yanking him downward.

Cyril stabbed his sword into the ground, releasing blood spikes point-blank that forced Kendel back.

Aerinwyn landed near them, breathing quicker now but still sharp, still precise. Her gaze flicked momentarily to Kendel.

He nodded.

Cyril rose again, his regeneration already knitting flesh back over bone. "You—"

He stopped.

Because the wind shifted.

Aerinwyn stood perfectly still, one hand on her sword, her silver hair fluttering violently though she had not moved an inch. The air around her compressed again—more tightly than before.

Faster than before.

Sharper than before.

Cyril recognized that spell.

His eyes widened.

"No—"

Aerinwyn didn’t even speak this time.

She simply moved.

No warning, no spell name, no flare.

Just speed.

Pure, unrestrained speed.

The world blurred.

Cyril barely managed to raise his blade.

A scream of wind ripped past him, too fast for his eyes to follow.

-BOOOM!!

Cyril’s entire upper body twisted unnaturally as Aerinwyn’s sword connected point-blank with his ribs, slicing through his blood armor, slicing through muscle, and sending him flying through three boulders before he finally crashed into the ground, coughing blood.

The strike wasn’t just powerful.

It was violent—a blow meant to kill instantly.

Kendel blinked in stunned silence.

Aerinwyn stood where she had attacked, her sword stained with fresh crimson.

Cyril looked up from the crater, eyes shaking.

"You... really tried to kill me there..." Cyril spat out a mouthful of blood, but somehow managed to grin through it.

If not for his regeneration—boosted to madness by the Blood Moon Spell—he would have been dead.

Completely, unquestionably dead.

"But that’s not enough," he smirked as he pushed himself upright, blood already crawling across his skin like living threads. His entire body began to glow with a deep crimson aura.

"It is," Aerinwyn said simply.

Her voice was calm, but her face had gone noticeably pale.

Cyril’s smile froze.

"...!"

His eyes widened as his senses finally caught up.

Four massive nine-layered mana circles appeared around him—one on each cardinal direction—locking him inside a perfect trap. Then, above him, a fifth circle materialized, far larger and far more complex, casting an ominous shadow across the battlefield.

He was surrounded from all sides.

But that wasn’t the problem.

The problem was the design of the circles.

These were another of Aerinwyn’s original mana circles, complex, extremely dense. Nothing about them looked ordinary. They pulsed like living mechanisms, each layer rotating in opposite directions, engraving the air burning like green starlight.

Cyril’s blood ran cold.

How?

How had he missed this!?

An overwhelming amount of mana—pure, clean, impossibly refined—flooded the space around him, warping the air and pressing against his lungs. His limbs felt heavy, pinned, as if gravity itself had increased tenfold.

Aerinwyn raised her sword and pointed the tip directly at him.

"Get ripped to shreds."

"...!"

Cyril reacted instantly.

Blood exploded outward from every pore of his body in a desperate attempt to shield himself.

But it wasn’t enough.

Not nearly enough.

-BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!!!

The mana circles released all of their compressed wind at once.

The world disappeared in a blinding explosion of white and green.

The shockwave howled across the battlefield, ripping the earth open, sending boulders flying, carving trenches into the ground as though a titan had dragged claws across it.

Kendel threw his arms up, vines swirling defensively around him as the sheer force pushed him back several meters.

The shockwaves were strong enough to burn the air.

He gritted his teeth, staring at Aerinwyn’s unmoving form.

Was he even necessary anymore?

But the slight tremor in her hand... her pale face... and the thin sheen of sweat on her brow told him enough.

She had spent more mana than her body wanted to give.

Still—given Cyril’s insane regeneration... and the Blood Moon’s influence—nothing less than overkill would suffice.

Finally, the shockwaves ebbed.

The whirlwind of dust and blood mist settled.

-Thud!

"A–Aghh!!"

Aerinwyn raised her hand and, with a simple flick of her wrist, swept away all the dust in a clean gust of wind.

Cyril appeared in full view—collapsing onto his knees.

His entire suit had been obliterated, shredded into ribbons. His torso was bare and covered in deep lacerations; blood streamed freely down his arms and chest. His flesh twitched, trying—struggling—to regenerate, but failing to keep up.

He looked like someone who had been fed into a grinder and barely spat out alive.

"D–Damn it..." Cyril growled, clutching the torn earth beneath him. "Just... a bit more..."

Immediately, the massive red dome of the Blood Moon overhead flared.

The crimson glow intensified, washing over his body. His skin began to shine again—regeneration accelerating, mana flaring...

Aerinwyn didn’t give him the chance.

She blurred.

In the blink of an eye she was in front of him, kicking him brutally back to the ground. Cyril’s head slammed into the dirt, blood spraying from his mouth.

She raised her sword high, her eyes cold, and merciless.

She was going to end him before he could invoke whatever power he was reaching for.

Her blade began to fall.

"WAIT!!!"

The sudden voice pierced the chaos.

Aerinwyn froze mid-strike, sword hovering just inches above Cyril’s skull.

Her head turned sharply.

A red-haired figure appeared in the distance, sprinting toward them with staggering steps.

Leora Raven.

Aerinwyn’s gaze narrowed. She didn’t move her sword away—she only pulled it back a few centimeters while maintaining her stance.

Leora stumbled into the clearing.

"Just—a moment—!" She gasped, nearly collapsing as she forced herself forward.

Aerinwyn stared at her for a long, silent instant... then finally stepped back half a pace.

But her eyes never left Cyril.

Try to call the Blood Moon again, her expression said.

And I’ll kill you before you finish the first syllable.

Leora ignored Aerinwyn entirely and dropped beside Cyril, grabbing him by the shoulders.

"Cyril!!" She cried out, voice trembling.

Cyril’s bleeding eyes flicked up weakly, teeth clenched in pain.

He coughed violently, blood splattering across the dirt as he lay sprawled on the ground. His crimson eyes lifted weakly—glassy but mocking—until they settled on the red-haired woman kneeling beside him.

"What are you doing here, Mother?" He asked, lips curling into a twisted smile.

Leora’s whole body froze.

"You little—" Her voice cracked as she dropped to her knees, her trembling hands balled into fists. Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes as she took in the mangled state of her son—his skin flayed open, his torso riddled with deep cuts, his blood soaking the earth like spilled wine.

"Why... why did you do this!?" She cried out.

"Why you ask..." Cyril’s gaze drifted upward toward the crimson dome of the Blood Moon, its eerie glow reflecting in his eyes like a lover’s gaze. His smile faded into something hollow.

Leora choked on a sob.

"I–It’s my fault... I am sorry," she whispered, her entire body trembling as tears streamed down her cheeks. "I shouldn’t have let him take you. I should have stayed. I should have kept you by my side." Her voice broke. "I should have never left you with him."

She had never forgiven herself—and she never would.

But she hadn’t expected things to become... this.

Cyril finally lowered his gaze from the sky to look at her. His expression softened—not with love, but with distant nostalgia.

"Mother," he called, "do you remember the story you told me? About Merithra?"

Leora blinked. "Merithra..."

"The Goddess who shone her light upon us," Cyril whispered, blood running down his chin like a thin red thread. His voice cracked with something that almost resembled longing. "And the one who abandoned us eventually."

"Cyril..."

"You don’t understand, Mother," Cyril said, his voice feverish. "Our future—our destiny—lies with Merithra. We must show our worth to her... just like the Vampire Witch did."

"Enough, Cyril..."

A few meters behind them, footsteps crunched on shattered stone.

James stepped forward, his arm dangling limply, bone jutting beneath torn skin. Blood streamed down the side of his face, but he kept walking.

"It’s over," he said.

Cyril looked at him and then back at his mother.

"Mother..." He whispered again, a single tear running down his cheek.

Leora leaned closer, tears still falling freely.

She gently placed her shaking hand over Cyril’s chest.

"It’s fine," she whispered. "Everything will—everything will turn out—"

-SPURT!!

"...!"

Leora’s eyes widened in shock.

She looked down slowly...and saw Cyril’s arm shoved straight through her chest.

Blood spilled over her ribs in a warm, crimson cascade.

She didn’t understand.

She didn’t speak.

She couldn’t.

Her gaze lifted back to Cyril—her son—only to find his eyes cold, emotionless, void of anything.

Yet a single tear still trailed down his cheek.

And then—

She felt it.

Her blood being drained, violently, as if her veins were being ripped apart from the inside.

Aerinwyn’s breath caught. She felt the sudden swell of Cyril’s aura—overwhelming, monstrous, tainted with the Blood Moon—and her instincts screamed danger.

She didn’t hesitate.

In a flash of wind, she appeared behind Cyril, sword raised, ready to behead him without a second thought.

But Cyril vanished.

Aerinwyn’s blade sliced only air.

"...!"

She turned just in time to see Cyril’s hand slicing toward her like a blade of condensed blood.

-BOOOOM!!

Aerinwyn blocked with her sword—but Cyril’s strike carved straight through her blade.

The severed half spun away in the air, glimmering with shattered wind mana.

Cyril’s blood-coated hand ripped through Aerinwyn’s abdomen, tearing through layers of defensive mana as if they were wet paper before sending her flying back several meters.

She hit the ground hard, rolling through cracked stone and blood-soaked dirt, blood staining her lips.

"LEORA!!!"

James screamed, sprinting forward just in time to catch his wife’s collapsing body as the shockwave flung her backward.

Her blood stained his hands instantly.

"Leora—Leora stay with me—!" He called out desperately.

Cyril stood tall in the center of the carnage, throwing his head back.

"Ahahaha!!"

His laughter echoed loudly around.

He licked Leora’s blood off his hand, crimson smearing across his lips.

His mana skyrocketed even further.

His blood and mana erupted around him, surging into a monstrous cyclone.

His crimson hair blew wildly behind him, infused with the Blood Moon’s light, turning him into something between a man and a monster.

"Now..." Hee said, smirking as the storm of blood curled around him like living armor. "Let’s start."

"Start what?"

Cyril turned his head.

Someone was walking toward them.

A shadow in humanoid shape.

Then the dust parted—

Revealing amber eyes.

"You’re quite late," he said.

Cyril’s smirk widened.

"Amael."