Chapter 488: Last descendant of powerful clan

The construct that formed was terrifying to behold.

A giant warrior of pure shadow and malice rose from the pavilion floor, standing fifteen feet tall with armor that seemed carved from solidified night. In its massive hands materialized a spear of crackling dark lightning, its point aimed directly at Prince Vlaran’s heart.

The shadow warrior moved with impossible speed for something so large.

Its spear thrust forward with the force of a battering ram, catching Vlaran in the shoulder and sending him crashing into one of the marble pillars. Blood seeped through his torn robes as he struggled to maintain his footing.

At that moment, Angelina and Jaegar burst through the pavilion’s entrance, both stopping in shock at the scene before them.

Angelina’s eyes went wide as she took in the dark construct towering over the wounded prince. "Aegisoran?" she whispered, using the ancient name for the shadow warrior technique. Her voice carried awe—she had thought such arts were lost forever.

Jaegar’s attention was split between the magical battle and his recognition of one of the combatants.

His frown deepened as he processed what he was seeing.

"Ewen?" he called out in surprise.

"What are you doing here?"

But his attention was drawn to Vlaran quickly as he was coughing blood.

Without hesitation, Jaegar rushed to Prince Vlaran’s side, despite the complicated history between them. He helped the injured prince to his feet, his hands glowing with a soft healing light—another gift of his unique bloodline.

"What happened?" Jaegar asked, supporting Vlaran’s weight.

Though they had never been on good terms, Vlaran’s voice carried genuine gratitude as he replied, "Your friend there tried to kidnap my fiancé. He barged into the pavilion like some common brigand."

Angelina approached the two young men, her gaze still fixed on the looming shadow construct that Ewen controlled.

"I didn’t know the Onyveera clan still had descendants," she said quietly, her voice filled with ancient knowledge.

Ewen’s face twisted with rage at her words.

The shadow warrior above him pulsed with darker energy as his emotions fed into the construct. "Why?" he spat venomously.

"Have you killed them yourself?"

"Dude, what’s the matter with you?" Jaegar stepped forward, his own power beginning to stir in response to the hostile magic filling the air.

Purple mist—the signature of his chaos arts—began to seep from his skin like ethereal smoke. "Why are you attacking them?"

"Shut up, criminal!" Ewen spat, his arcane energy still crackling around him.

"You think you can get away with anything. You think your family name will protect you no matter what you do."

Jaegar could see the rage in Ewen’s eyes, but he couldn’t understand where it came from. They had been classmates once, though they had never seen eye to eye. He didn’t understand what he did to make her hate him so much.

What had changed so much that Ewen would call him a criminal and attack an innocent person?

Even at the ministry too, he was bursting with rage.

The shadow construct still hovered nearby, waiting for Ewen’s command. The air in the pavilion felt thick with tension and unspent magic, as if the very walls might crack from the power contained within.

"You think you can stand against me?" Ewen snarled at Jaegar, his hands already glowing with the energy of a new spell.

Jaegar released his grip on Prince Vlaran and stood tall. His eyes shifted to a deep purple color, and the temperature around him seemed to drop.

He had not wanted this fight, but Ewen left him no choice.

"I don’t want to fight you," Jaegar said, his voice calm.

"But if you won’t stop, I will make you."

Ewen thrust his hand forward, sending a bolt of white arcane energy toward Jaegar.

It was a basic attack spell, quick and precise.

But Jaegar was faster.

He twisted his body to the side, and the bolt passed harmlessly past his shoulder, shattering against the pavilion wall behind him.

Before Ewen could cast again, Jaegar raised his own hands. Purple mist began to swirl around his body like living smoke. This was not ordinary magic—this was the Chaos Arts.

The purple fog rolled across the pavilion floor like a living thing, consuming the light and creating shadows where none should exist.

Ewen stepped back, recognizing the danger. "You have such privileges, huh," he said with disgust.

"Just shut up," Jaegar said flatly.

Ewen summoned the shadow construct once more, commanding it to charge through the purple fog. The dark warrior moved with terrible speed, its armored form cutting through the magical mist like a blade through silk. But as it passed through Jaegar’s purple cloud, something unexpected happened. The Chaos Arts did not fight the construct—instead, they touched it, and where they touched, the shadow began to unravel.

"What are you doing?" Ewen cried out, shocked to see his carefully crafted spell falling apart.

Though the Aegisoran was said to be ancient and powerful, it was still not effective because of Ewen’s level, and Jaegar was far stronger than him. His mist could easily kill him, but Jaegar didn’t do it because of Veronica. He was her partner, and he wanted to know why he was attacking the pavilion today.

Jaegar stepped out of the fog, his entire body now wreathed in purple energy. Lightning crackled around his fingers and danced across his skin.

"I told you," Jaegar said, "I don’t want to hurt you."

But Ewen would not listen.

He brought his hands together and began to chant in a language that predated the modern Empire. A sphere of pure arcane power formed between his palms, growing larger with each word. It was a powerful spell, one that required great concentration and control.

When he released it, the sphere shot toward Jaegar like a meteor.

Jaegar raised his hand, and lightning erupted from his fingertips.

The two of their attacks met in the middle of the pavilion with a sound like thunder.

The explosion of arcane energy sent everyone nearby stumbling backward. Dust filled the air, and for a moment, no one could see clearly.

When the dust settled, Jaegar stood unharmed, protected by a shell of purple mist that had absorbed most of the impact.

Ewen, on the other hand, had been thrown backward against the pavilion wall. He coughed and struggled to push himself up.

"You’re stronger than I thought," Ewen gasped, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth.