Chapter 768: Chilashar Rose
“Just a mere speck of a mortal—no matter how much power that wretched woman grants you, it’s utterly useless!”
Roaring with wrath, Ros spread her eight terrifying limbs wide as the silver arrow shot toward her. Billions of spiders surged forward, their bodies merging into a living wall of writhing flesh—each one an extension of her will, flowing like a relentless tide. They converged in front of the arrow’s path, forming a barricade of flesh and fang.
But the arrow blazed with an overwhelming silver radiance. With a thunderous Boom, it tore through the spider wall like a scythe through wheat, carving a hole several meters wide. The spiders disintegrated into ash, and the entire wall collapsed in a storm of dust and ruin.
The silver arrow, still blazing with unstoppable momentum, screamed onward.
“Lowly mortal entity—tremble before the might of a deity!”
Ros’s gaze was cold, her voice like ice. From the distortion of space, she drew a wand—its shaft wrapped in silken threads of spider silk, its tip embedded with a pitch-black crystal and over a hundred venomous fangs. She raised it, and a swirling, sickly black-and-purple light poured from the crystal like a murky torrent, surging toward the arrow.
Boom!
Light clashed with darkness. Order collided with chaos. Life force met death. The two opposing divine forces exploded in a cataclysmic backlash. Jagged silver lightning and inky black fire erupted from the point of impact, spreading for hundreds of meters, consuming everything in their path—trees, rock, air—washed away in an instant.
The sky trembled. The earth shook. Mages far away, watching from the edge of the battlefield, could only stare in horror, their voices choked with fear.
“That… that energy wave… even its aftermath rivals an Arcane Banishment Spell.”
“The fate of Serrynia… no, perhaps even the entire Southern Continent… may rest in the hands of Catherine, His Majesty.”
“Goddess of Magic, protect us…”
Even the most level-headed arcane hermits among them lowered their heads, whispering silent prayers, begging the Moonlit Elven Queen to triumph.
If Ros were to descend into the world, it would not just be the Elvenwood Forest that would fall—nor merely the southern lands. The entire continent of Feanso would be consumed by an unprecedented catastrophe.
“Don’t worry,” said the Ancient Gold Dragon, standing proudly among the crowd, head high, eyes locked on the battle above. “Catherine His Majesty will prevail. I have always believed it.”
“Last hope… that is all.”
Ria clenched her silver sword, face tense, slashing through the creatures that had breached the light barrier outside. Even at this semi-god level, neither she nor her kind—legendary warriors—dared approach too close. If they were to fall, Catherine might lose focus.
Zing—
A sharp, piercing cry echoed through the air. A tiny divine arrow, nearly invisible to the eye, burst from the glowing orb and streaked forward like a silver afterimage, faster than thought—driving straight toward Ros’s body.
Unprepared, Ros’s divine force shield cracked instantly beneath the impact. The arrow plunged deep into her avatar’s abdomen, its silver radiance flaring like a burning star, searing her flesh with holy fire.
“No—!”
Black mist poured from the wound. Ros shrieked in agony and fury, her voice twisted with vile hatred. “Mortal entity! You have awakened the wrath of a true deity! You will regret this!”
“After I descend, your kingdoms will be reduced to blood, death, and blazing fire! All you hold dear will be destroyed. Your family, your friends—mere decay beneath my feet! And you… you will be killed by the one you trust most!”
Before she could finish, a suffocating weight descended upon Catherine’s head—darkness and death, a force attempting to twist her fate. Around her, purple and black auras coiled like venomous serpents, writhing against her form.
This was God’s Curse—a reality-warping power capable of reshaping a mortal’s entire destiny.
But Catherine was no ordinary mortal. Facing the curse, her gaze remained calm, distant. She raised her Moon Staff.
Moonlight, like liquid silver, poured from the staff, swirling around her like a living cloak, swallowing the curse whole.
Catherine walked the bridge between worlds, her form flickering between dream and reality. She drew the Bow of the Moon once more. Arrows, forged from coalesced divine energy, materialized on the string.
She released them.
Dozens of arrows shot forth like a meteor shower, streaking across the night sky in a deadly rain, aimed at Ros.
Shwip—
But Ros had anticipated it. Her eight limbs lashed out, emitting waves of dark energy, weaving a storm of chaos that swallowed the arrows whole—erasing them in the abyss of darkness.
Yet on her chest, the wound from the silver arrow remained—fearsome, gaping, its edges burning with silver light, oozing thick, foul blood.
Seeing this, Catherine smiled coldly.
“Dark Deity… under the divine power of Queen Shahanini, how long can your blasphemous avatar endure?”
“When this body falls, and the Web of Magic unravels, you’ll lose your anchor to the Prime Material Plane. You’ll crawl back into the abyss like a rat—forever trapped in the dark.”
“This is the punishment the Siderien Gods mete out to rebels.”
Catherine thrust her moon staff skyward. A beam of silver light shot from its tip, piercing through the thick clouds of darkness and poison mist, striking the new moon above.
The moon answered.
Countless silver beams descended from the heavens like divine punishment, slamming into Ros’s avatar.
“Mortal! You’re nothing but a puppet of Shahanini! How dare you speak of rebellion?” Ros roared in fury. Her limbs flailed, weaving a crimson spiderweb above her—thousands of meters wide, a vast tapestry of evil divine power and chaotic energy. It blanketed the sky, radiating a soul-chilling aura.
“Those so-called gods of justice wear masks of hypocrisy. If I had won that war long ago, I would be the true Elven Supreme God!”
Boom!
The two forces collided again—silver light exploding in dazzling radiance, entwined with the crimson glow of the spiderweb.
Far away, the Ancient Gold Dragon Kai Xiusu watched from his golden avatar, eyes fixed on the battle.
“Unbelievable power…”
“No… this isn’t just a mere avatar. Ros must have performed some arcane ritual, transferring part of her divine essence into the material plane.”
“Wait… what’s that?”
Suddenly, Kai Xiusu’s pupils contracted. His entire golden form trembled. A terrifying presence—ancient, vile, and utterly beyond comprehension—emanated from the battlefield.
And it came from Ros.
Hah…
A cruel laugh escaped her lips. “Catherine… you’re stronger than I thought. For a lowly mortal, you’ve given it your all.”
“But you picked the wrong enemy.”
Before she could finish, one of her limbs plunged into the void. From the distortion of the abyssal vortex, she pulled forth an object—black, twisted, radiating evil.
A Black Rose, its petals soaked in coagulated blood.
This cursed artifact bore a notorious name—Chilashar Rose.
A weapon of ruin, designed to bring suffering to elves, spread corruption, and weaken even the mightiest spirit deities.
Forged by Ros and the Queen of the Void Darkness.
It began when a soulless elf, under the control of the dark goddess, plunged an obsidian-engraved prism into a sacred tree. The tree bled dry, poisoned beyond salvation. Then, its essence was mixed with toxins distilled from a thousand black roses. Ros’s avatar descended, using magic to shape the toxin into a rose—then solidified it into a substance harder than mithril, a living amber of evil.
After being touched by two deities who hated elves, the rose gained a curse. Now, it was a weapon of unparalleled power against all who aligned with good.
The saints of the Siderien Gods, the chosen ones—they would fall into madness at the slightest lapse in will. Even divine manifestations were affected. It was said that Dalar Firemantle, the deity known as the “Lord of Green Flame,” had once been corrupted by the rose, becoming bloodthirsty, mad, and a monstrous abyssal entity.
“…This is bad!”
Catherine’s face paled the moment she sensed the danger. She raised her scepter, summoning moonlight to form a shield around her.
But Ros had planned this for a long time. Her slender limb tore through space itself, bypassing divine protection. The Chilashar Rose pierced forward—its thorns aimed directly at Catherine.
Despite her desperate evasion, one of the rose’s venomous spines grazed her arm, slicing through the skin. The toxin and black mist surged in.
Instantly, Catherine’s arm turned dark blue, then purple. Cracks spread like serpents across her flesh. Her pale skin blackened. Her silver eyes—once clear and radiant—now swirled with crimson and deep black.
“His Majesty!!”
Catherine, ignoring her own peril, unfurled her wings and charged forward like an avenging angel.
“Catherine His Majesty!”
The Ancient Gold Dragon Titus roared, spreading his own wings and rising into the sky. He reached her side, staff raised, casting a healing spell.
Shwip—
Purifying beams rained from the heavens—but they had no effect. The toxin, infused with the power of Ros and the Queen of the Void Darkness, clung like a parasite. Even the moonlight was tainted, poisoned.
“His Majesty… please wake up!”
Ria rushed to her side, unleashing spells of purification, exorcism, and banishment—her voice trembling with anxiety.
But Catherine remained trapped in the black mist, unconscious, as if lost in an eternal slumber.
Far away, Ros smiled—her beautiful face twisted with mockery.
“Despair… death… deep sleep… poison… and blood… such a beautiful sight.”
She paused, her crimson eyes gleaming with cruel delight. “If only… we added betrayal, slaughter, and intra-species carnage… it would be even more perfect.”
“Damned dark deity!”
Ria’s rage exploded. She raised her silver sword, ready to charge at Ros and fight to the death.
But the Ancient Gold Dragon Titus blocked her, his voice low and firm. “Do not fall for her trap. Now, more than ever, Catherine’s safety is paramount.”
Ria stilled. She turned back to Catherine, her eyes wide with fear, her body tense, watching Ros from a distance.
Then, Ros extended her long limb. Dozens of spider silk threads, each connected to distant points, stretched out—anchored to Catherine’s body.
“No! You won’t hurt Catherine His Majesty!”
Ria’s heart sank. She swung her sword with all her might, unleashing a burst of divine energy, trying to sever the threads.
But the sword passed through them—like cutting through air. The threads existed in a parallel plane, beyond the Prime Material, untouchable.
This was the Chilashar Poison Thread—a cursed link, binding an elf’s soul to Ros through the rose.
Ros tilted her head, watching Ria with amusement. “Ah… Paladin. If your queen—your beloved ruler—becomes a tyrant, evil and cruel… would you still be willing to raise your sword against her?”
“Y-you—”
Ria’s expression flickered. Anger and hatred still burned in her eyes—but now, a shadow of doubt crept in.
Could she… really kill Catherine?
Ros grinned, then shook her limbs. The threads pulsed with the rose’s power.
Catherine’s eyes snapped open.
Her irises—once bright silver—were now a mottled mess of red and black. Her gaze, once gentle and resolute, was now wild, feral, filled with madness and bloodlust.
Her skin had turned gray. Her once-beautiful face wore a grotesque, twisted smile. The moonlight around her shimmered with chaotic, sickly hues.
She no longer looked like an Elven Queen. She looked like a Drow.
Half-Elf…
Catherine’s voice dripped with greed as she stared at Ria, licking her lips. “You… are my prey?”
“No, His Majesty! Wake up!”
Ria shook her head violently, her hands trembling so hard she could barely hold her sword. Even as a legendary Holy Knight, facing this queen—her mentor, her mother figure—she was still just a child with a wooden stick.
She could not—would not—kill Catherine.
Not even if it meant her own death.
From afar, Ros’s voice slithered through the air, laced with corruption.
“Come on… kill her. Fulfill your vow as a holy knight. Slay your former mistress!”
“She’s already fallen. You’ll take her place. You’ll become the new king of Serrynia!”
“No… I can’t.”
Ria shook her head again, her voice breaking. She backed away, despair etched into every line of her face.
But “Catherine” drew a dagger—coated in venom—and lunged forward, eyes blazing red, her movements frenzied, aiming straight for Ria’s throat.
She laughed—a terrible, guttural sound.
“Half-elf… come on. Let me kill you!”
(End of Chapter)
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