Chapter 260: Aelric’s True Strength

The crescent ray tore through the surging colony like a hot knife slicing through butter. Ratchyrs caught directly in its path were almost fortunate: the blue arc cleaved through their bodies, dividing each into two clean halves before their tiny eyes or twitching ears could register the danger.

They fell apart without so much as a proper shriek, their momentum carrying the severed pieces several feet across the stone.

The ray continued beyond the ruined temple, slicing through the open doorway and racing into the distant forest...

Only when it vanished among scarlet leaves and tangled undergrowth did the blue radiance finally dissipate, leaving the chamber trembling beneath the fading echo of its passage.

A narrow groove scarred the nearest pillar where the ray had grazed it, and the stone hissed beneath a ribbon of blue vapour. Across the floor, a long furrow had been carved into the tiles, its edges glowing like freshly forged metal. Dust drifted through the fading wake, settling over scattered remains like ash after a fire.

Regaleon’s brows drew together as he studied the damage. Aelric had not merely cut down the creatures before him; his attack had carried enough force to threaten anything unfortunate enough to stand behind them.

Moreover, had he angled his sword a little higher, there was no doubt that the ray would have carved through the pillars or struck the temple’s already fragile walls, potentially bringing the entire structure down upon them.

Yet, with remarkable swordsmanship and Aetheric control, Aelric had executed a technique that was devastating in power but astonishingly precise in its direction.

That realization made Regaleon reconsider how carefully they ought to choose their next move, especially since there was now a big gun on their side.

Meanwhile, Aelric’s attack had torn a gaping wound through the Ratchyrs’ formation, splitting the surging colony into two disordered masses.

Those behind the fallen skidded to a halt, collided with one another, or scrambled sideways in desperate attempts to avoid the ray’s path. Their earlier confidence dissolved into confusion while their rapid clicks grew uneven as they tried to make sense of the devastation.

Across the stone floor lay the victims of Aelric’s swordsmanship—or, more accurately, the halves of their bodies. Black blood seeped between the cracks in the tiles, gathering in glossy pools beneath severed limbs.

Along the clean edges of each cut, faint blue light continued to glow, scorching the surrounding flesh with heat that lingered long after the ray itself had vanished. The acrid smell of singed fur mingled with the colony’s familiar stench, making the air even more nauseating.

The survivors appeared to reach the same conclusion. They scrambled backwards, claws skittering against the stone as they retreated from the remains of their companions.

Rapid clicks spilled from their pointed snouts, bouncing off pillars and broken walls before returning as echoes. Though their eyesight was poor, they seemed to understand the result of provoking a calamity like Aelric, seemingly not blind to the outcome of their peers.

They had rushed the group as though sheer numbers guaranteed victory. Now, they approached the situation with the circumspection of thieves who had discovered that the supposedly abandoned house belonged to a dragon.

One by one, they gathered into a tight cluster behind the fallen bodies, treating the intruders as if they had become a raging inferno: something to fear, measure, and certainly not provoke without good reason.

Therefore, a small impasse formed with the colony on one hand and the cohort on the other side. In between them stood the fallen Ratchyrs, the glow of their Nether Cores and the singed fur on their body serving as irrevocable evidence of the calamity that just unfolded.

In the meantime, Aelric behaved as though he had done nothing worthy of notice.

He turned his wrist, lowered his longsword, and returned it to its sheath. The blade slid home with a soft metallic clink, its edge disappearing beneath the worn leather with the quiet finality of a door closing on an unpleasant conversation.

His face remained composed, but the tension in his jaw betrayed his irritation. Surprisingly, rather than being proud of such a feat, he instead looked like a man forced to interrupt a perfectly good afternoon to repair a roof that somebody else had foolishly set on fire.

The others, however, struggled to conceal their reactions. Their expressions ranged from stunned disbelief to outright astonishment, and for several seconds, nobody seemed capable of finding anything worth saying.

Valmyr’s mouth hung open, while Kaeloris froze with one hand hovering near his glasses. Caelestra stared at the corpses, then at Aelric, still reassessing the value of such a dependable travelling companion.

Even Vaelorin, who rarely allowed an opportunity for sarcasm to pass unmolested, stood silent. His red-haired gaze lingered on the blue-lit wounds before shifting to the longsword resting innocently at Aelric’s waist.

Somehow, he doubted his flames could inflict damage comparable to what the youth had wrought with a single swing.

"What a terrifying sword," Vaelorin finally muttered. His voice was low, and the astonishment on his face had softened into reluctant awe, edged with a trace of envy. "I thought you were just carrying it around to look mysterious."

Aelric turned his green eyes on him and scoffed. "And this sword wouldn’t have been necessary had you done as I asked."

Vaelorin’s expression tightened, though he wisely refrained from arguing. He had, after all, been the one to sneeze, panic, and incinerate a Ratchyr in a manner that announced their presence to every creature in the temple.

And suddenly at the moment, his staff seemed less like a weapon and more like evidence in a trial.

Aelric looked away, apparently satisfied that the lesson had been delivered. He was clearly annoyed at having wasted strength that could have been conserved if they had simply listened to him. To him, the fight had not been an impressive demonstration but an entirely avoidable inconvenience.

Meanwhile, the group was still lost in their thoughts concerning Aelric...

They had always known that he was formidable. His years in the Nether Lands, his familiarity with Forbidden Ruins, and his effortless manner around danger all suggested that he stood above them in cultivation.

Yet they had assumed the difference amounted to a realm, or perhaps a realm and a stage.

Regaleon had been especially generous in his estimate, placing Aelric at the Final Stage of Rank Two. It had seemed reasonable based on the evidence available. Aelric was clearly stronger than a Rank One Etheryean, but nothing had prepared them for the destructive force of that stroke.

The young man before them was not a Final Stage Rank Two Etheryean, instead, he was a Rank Three Etheryean... And a Final Stage at that.

The realization settled over the group with the weight of a dropped stone.

Aelric had crossed an entire cultivation realm beyond their own, and the gap between them was evidently far greater than they had imagined.

Regaleon’s golden eyes remained fixed on him, thoughtful and wary. Had Aelric concealed his strength deliberately, or had explaining it simply seemed too tiresome?

Either possibility felt entirely plausible... Or prhaps he had never considered their assumptions important enough to correct.

Aureleah’s narrowed eyes followed Aelric’s hand to the hilt at his waist. Her instincts were already assembling the implications, measuring the difference between his apparent indolence and the control he had just displayed.

Kaeloris, meanwhile, looked torn between asking a dozen questions and admitting that every answer might expose how little he understood.

Yet the group’s attention remained fixed on the green-eyed youth who had stopped their charge with a single swing.

They had thought Aelric was just an experienced scout who happened to be stronger than them.

But now, they were forced to confront a far more unsettling possibility: the seemingly indolent youth who complained about walking and avoided unnecessary fights was not merely a capable guide, but someone whose true strength had remained hidden in plain sight.

And the most surprising part was that Aelric looked more annoyed at the fact than proud...