[Chapter 319. The King’s Hall]

Iris reached the end of the corridor, turned the corner, and stood before the entrance of a vast, open hall. She stepped inside, her armored boots making soft, almost reverent sounds against the marble as she passed the first row of high columns. The pillars were adorned with the same type of turquoise rocks as the one she had received from Searanox. Their glow bathed the entire space in ethereal light, casting elongated shadows that danced like specters across the cracked floor.

The air here tasted different—cleaner, but with an underlying metallic tang that made the fur on her arms stand on end despite her conditioning to ignore such distractions. Deeper into the chamber was a raised platform with a throne at its center.

Upon it sat a Gatura, its massive frame clad in crude, mismatched plates of armor that seemed scavenged from various sources, giving it a brutal, patchwork appearance. Atop its head rested an iron crown of jagged metal, each point sharpened to a deadly tip.

Her eyes were then drawn to the two figures flanking him. On each side of the throne stood a Gatura Elite wielding a halberd. She already knew how tall the Elites were, but beside the figure on the throne, they looked tiny in comparison, like children standing beside their father. The Gatura King dominated the throne, his muscular bulk seeming to strain against the crude metal plates covering his torso and limbs. His single eye burned with a malevolent intelligence that made her hackles rise; the other was a milky white socket that gave his face a terrifying asymmetry.

The Gatura on the throne gestured lazily with his hand. Immediately, the two Elites started toward her, their movements unnaturally disciplined and silent as they descended the stone steps. She brought up her Eldritch Zweihänder, her silver eyes fixed on the advancing figures, her tail swishing slowly behind her in anticipation. The turquoise light of the columns glinted off the polished steel of their weapons. Their heavy footfalls echoed in the cavernous hall, each step a deliberate threat.

As they closed the distance, the Elite on the left suddenly lunged, its halberd swinging in a wide arc aimed at her midsection. Iris met the attack with a sharp clang of metal on metal, the force of the impact sending vibrations up her arm and causing the air to crackle with the kinetic energy built up between their opposing weapons.

While she was engaged, the second Elite darted in from the right, its weapon lowered for a piercing thrust. Iris twisted her body with feline grace, the blade of the halberd scraping against her armored side with a high-pitched shriek that sent a shower of brilliant orange sparks cascading across the marble floor. The impact left a deep gouge in her cuirass, the metal groaning under the force but holding firm.

She countered with a swift backhand, her Zweihänder's flat side connecting with the Elite's helmet with a sickening crunch that echoed through the hall. The sound was followed by the sharp snap of something breaking inside the helm.

The staggered Elite stumbled back, its movements clumsy as it shook its head to clear the stars from its vision. A dull rattle came from within its damaged helm, like pebbles in a tin can. The other Elite seized the opportunity, pressing its attack with a flurry of strikes that Iris parried with practiced ease. Her movements were a blur of grace, her Zweihänder an extension of her will as she danced between the two enemies, each deflection sending ripples of turquoise energy skittering across the polished blades. The sound of metal against metal created a percussive rhythm, a heartbeat to their deadly dance.

The King watched from his throne. His single good eye observed the fight, tracking every movement with predatory focus. His armor creaked softly as he shifted his weight, the sound barely audible beneath the clash of battle. He made no move to intervene, content to let his subjects wear down the intruder through attrition. But Iris could feel his gaze—a heavy weight that made the fine hairs on the back of her neck stand on end and caused her silver eyes to narrow with concentration.

She knew she had to end this before her mana reserves diminished further or the Elites adapted to her fighting style. With a sudden burst of speed that left afterimages in her wake, she disengaged from the two Elites. Her Blade Step carried her across the hall in a plume of dark smoke, and she materialized directly in front of the throne. Her armored boots struck the stone with the force of a heavy hammer as she thrust her Zweihänder directly toward the seated King.

There was a sharp impact, like lightning striking glass, as the sharp tip of her blade collided with an invisible barrier surrounding the throne. The kinetic shockwave shot through her arms, the turquoise energy of her weapon flaring violently as it met the shield.

The two Elites charged toward her, their heavy footfalls thundering across the stone floor. Their halberds were held at the ready, the polished blades catching the turquoise light as they prepared to strike.

The King watched, a cruel smile spreading across his face to reveal yellowed, pointed teeth as Iris's attack failed. He let out a rumbling grunt of laughter that seemed to shake the very foundations of the castle as he watched her blade bounce off the barrier.

Iris drew her blade back, the air around her humming with residual energy, but before she could attack again, the two Elites had already closed the distance, striking out with their halberds in perfect synchronization.

In a swift, fluid motion, she spun on her heel, bringing her Zweihänder in a wide, protective arc that deflected the synchronized attacks with a shower of brilliant orange sparks. The clang of metal against metal momentarily overwhelmed even the King's rumbling laughter.

Before the Elites could adjust their positions, Iris disengaged once again. She landed a couple of meters to the side in a crouch, her armored boots striking the stone with a sharp, decisive sound that swallowed the echoes of battle. She rose slowly, her Zweihänder held at a ready angle before her as she settled into a defensive stance. Her silver gaze fixed on the two Elites, her muscles coiled like springs beneath her dark fur, the faint turquoise glow of her weapon pulsing in rhythm with her quickened breath.

They turned in unison, their movements disturbingly synchronized, as if controlled by a single will. They moved toward her in quick motions, the distance between them vanishing within a couple of powerful strides.

As the two yellow-green glowing halberds came down on her, she noticed a flicker of movement from the throne at the edge of her vision. Her ears swiveled instinctively toward the heavy sound of grinding metal.

Iris brought up her Mystic Ward, a shimmering barrier of energy materializing in the air before her just as the first enhanced strike made contact. The impact was catastrophic. The barrier flared violently before shattering with a deafening crack that echoed through the hall like thunder.

Simultaneously, she angled her Zweihänder to intercept the second strike. The black metal met the glowing halberd with a shower of sparks that illuminated her determined features. The blow had such explosive force behind it that she couldn't keep her blade up to counter with a strike of her own, her arms trembling with the effort of holding her ground.

After the tremors of cracking stone and steel against steel subsided, another noise cut through the tension. It was the sound of metal grinding against stone—a low, scraping noise that set her teeth on edge as she recognized something heavy being dragged across the marble floor.

Behind the two Elites, Iris could see that the Gatura King was no longer seated. He had lifted himself from the throne and retrieved a massive battle axe, its edge gleaming with a faint, deadly light.

Her blade began to glow a deep turquoise, the energy pulsing along its length like captured lightning as she prepared for her next attack. With a cry that was half snarl, half battle chant, she brought her greatsword down on the Elite that had shattered her barrier. The sharp edge descended, but it was intercepted by the halberd of the other Elite in a desperate attempt to protect its comrade.

A deafening impact rang through the vaulted space as the two weapons collided. The sound was so powerful it seemed to shake the castle's foundations, dust raining down from the ceiling above as the force of their combined attacks created a shockwave that radiated outward in a visible ripple of energy.

Before she could recover from the strike, there was movement to her side. She turned her head just in time to see the massive blade of the King's axe arcing toward her in a wide swing, the weapon's edge whistling through the air with deadly intent.

She crouched low, her armor scraping against the polished floor with a sound that grated on her sensitive ears. The King's attack passed over her, the axe's weight carrying it forward with terrifying momentum until it dug deep into one of the pillars next to her. The impact sent vibrations through the stone that she could feel through her boots.

A loud crack came from the pillar, followed by the sound of breaking rock, the sharp report echoing through the cavernous hall like a gunshot. As she came up from her crouch, her muscles protesting the strain of the sudden movement, she noticed that one of the turquoise stones on the pillar was now cracked, a spiderweb of fractures spreading across its surface. The light emanating from it was now dim and flickering, no longer shining with the steady brilliance that had bathed the hall.

The Gatura King ripped his axe back, his powerful muscles straining as he wrenched the weapon free from the pillar with a sickening crunch of grinding stone. The force of the action sent shards of turquoise rock and marble flying across the hall. Some struck her armor with percussive thuds, while others skittered across the floor like scattered jewels.

Iris disengaged from the two Elites, her Zweihänder tightly in her grip as she retreated. Her eyes scanned the battlefield with tactical precision, assessing the threats and identifying potential advantages as she created distance.

One of the Elites advanced, its halberd held forward, ready to lunge, the blade catching the flickering light of the damaged pillar. The second Elite stayed behind; its halberd had shattered in two, the broken pieces lying on the ground in front of it. It picked up the bladed front attached to a short hilt, wielding it now like a crude hand axe instead of a long polearm.

The King followed, his massive form a looming shadow as his heavy axe dragged across the floor. The sound of metal grinding against stone carved a deep gouge in its wake, creating a nerve-wracking symphony that resonated in her very bones.