Chapter 1217 (1/2)

Ileot Swacc was forced to make his decision when he saw Vualla begin to treat his duplication’s body with basic first aid and healing Skills. He was already furious enough that he hadn’t thought it necessary to check for a duplication for himself in the projection; it made him mortified. So despite the fact that it seemed inevitable that this version of himself would suffer the same fate as the original, Ileot could accept that. Such a fear was a familiar entity in his heart. Ileot was already swearing vengeance when he realized that wasn’t what happened.

Vualla had begun to heal Eliot.

Which could only mean one thing; she had a much more sinister plan in store for him.

When he realized that, Ileot had felt a deep, primal fear of the unknown that overwhelmed all of his carefully prepared contingency plans. It was a type of fear that he didn’t even feel toward the Nether King itself. A fear that he could only feel toward the sister that had internalized his lessons in the projected world and became something worse than a monster.

She was a monster that wore a face he once loved.

But Ileot Swacc was also furious at this latest betrayal of expectation. And that anger provided him with a very satisfactory and direct solution. Burn the rest of the liquid Aether in your position. Kill them all. The Nether King, the Vualla’s, your own duplication… just erase them all from existence. Bury this meaningless karma, once and for all.

The plan came with high costs; he would be extremely weak afterward with no more hidden tricks. Burning liquid Aether had the effect of pushing away System Aether in the surrounding area, so it would be hard to recover much strength. Especially with the Nether Rift gradually spreading to cover their position.

But even so… it was the only hope Ileot found. He was prepared to bet everything on it.

I want this all to be over. I want to just… rest, finally.

So Ileot began to slowly gather himself, preparing to unleash a blast of incandescent energy that would burn all the reserves of liquid Aether that he had managed to carefully create in his three thousand year existence. It pained him to do so, but Ileot dearly wanted freedom from that constant fear that had dogged him all his life. He was tired of needing to look over his shoulder and avoid the looming threat of the Nether Kings.

He was tired of wondering if karma was a real thing or just a boogyman used to scare children.

His Aether began to burn and his attack took shape. First, he held a small orb of white lightning, but as he rapidly condensed his power that small orb grew to a bonfire. Soon it was a river of liquid, sparkling white fire that flowed around his body. It snapped and cracked, melting the surrounding stones as Ileot looked across the widening gap toward the dwindling island on which the fighting was occurring.

From here, the sound of Nether King’s ongs were almost distant. It was the crackle and snap of white lightning turning to fire that filled Ileot’s ears with a roaring cacophony.

As Ileot built up more and more momentum he carefully split the power he was gathering into two different forms. The first was a more violent and unpredictable form that was probably three-fourths of his power. It formed the frothing river that spun rapidly around him, growing in size every moment. And then there was an extremely condensed, piercing tongue of white flame that was the other fourth of his power. It was a seed, slowly sprouting in his right hand.

His power continued to build as he examined the battlefield. The river of fire and lighting grew to the side of a large building around him. Panting, Ileot couldn’t keep his hands from beginning to tremble. Finally… after so long… it will all be over… All I need to do is just-

Everything was under his control. He held the tightly leashed power in his hands that would allow him to seize his destiny. This was the key to his future. All he needed now was the perfect opportunity.

Just the thought made Ileot’s heart tremble. Fear surged up from the depths of his heart, frigid and grasping. What if he missed that chance? Yet he had now lived for three thousand years. No matter how exciting his last few hours had been, no matter what shocking things he had learned, he still had enough presence of mind to ignore the fear.

I can grasp this chance. It’s the last step. After that…

So Ileot waited, with the fear constantly whispering that he would miss this chance. It was a constant distraction. Lord Miln and Lady Iellaya began struggling against the Nether King and switched their focus to eliminating the Nether Heralds. As he saw the change, Ileot considered striking. But he stayed his hand, creating a feedback loop with his energy around him.

The building of white lightning and fire had grown to a mountain. The larger energy grew increasingly violent while that seed became a concentrated tongue of flame that was almost unmoving. Yet as Ileot considered the attack that he was slowly creating within his right hand, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.

When the moment came, Ileot did not miss it.

Through the hazy of fear, anxiety, and reverberating battle, he found his chance to strike pretty easily. Because for a split second, the entire battlefield was stunned into stillness by the long shadow cast by the image of Randidly Ghosthound. That vast network of glimmering golden roots stretched outward without any apparent strain and everyone stared in wonder. The vast image was so self-evidently powerful that not even Ileot could believe what the boy had managed to accomplish. His mind almost denied what he was seeing.

Truthfully, everyone froze except a single individual; Lady Iellaya used the moment of hanging time to position herself next to one of the golden roots, with Lord Miln and the Nether King in front of her. One hand went to the root and Ileot watched in fascination as she absorbed a portion of the golden light and unleashed a devastating attack that pinned Lord Miln and the Nether King together for an extra second.