NABC Chapter 466 - 466: We have what we came for
Chapter 466 - 466: We have what we came for
The force of the release shattered windows throughout the district and sent devastating shockwaves rippling across the entire city.When the light faded, Elsbeth stood transformed.
Her physical form had become a vessel for pure darkness—skin that shifted between textures, hair that changed colour with each breath, and eyes that reflected dimensions beyond normal perception.
She had become, in essence, a living embodiment of volatile arcane principles.
But transformation came at a cost.
Where once Elsbeth had commanded dark arts, she was now commanded by it.
Her movements became erratic and unpredictable. Her spells fired randomly, some targeting Angelina, others striking empty air or even turning back upon herself.
She had gained immense power but lost the control necessary to direct it effectively.
Angelina watched this transformation with the analytical eye of a master studying a cautionary tale. She had seen similar transformations before—practitioners who had pushed too far beyond the safe boundaries of magical experimentation.
They gained power, yes, but at the cost of their essential humanity.
"This is what happens," Angelina said sadly, "when ambition exceeds wisdom."
Norimar, who had stopped fighting, clicked his tongue. He didn't expect Elsbeth to use dark arts to this level. The fight was already over, and he couldn't really tell if Angelina would kill her. But he was already making preparations to leave.
The black hounds have also halted their attack; they weren't sure what was happening. It seemed like everything depended upon the outcome of this battle.
Elsbeth screamed, an inhuman wail that cracked mirrors across the streets.
"Your time is done, old crone!" she snarled, voice layered with demonic undertones.
Without a word, Angelina raised her hands. Calm, steady. Her fingers moved in precise, sacred arcs—an ancient pattern.
A mandala of golden light bloomed in the air before her, spinning with slow gravity. It was vast—ten feet wide—etched with impossibly complex runes and sacred patterns that shimmered and rotated within each other like a cosmic clockwork. The glyphs pulsed once, resonating with an ethereal chime like the strike of a divine bell.
From its glowing heart, golden arrow-beams erupted—dozens of them—each one sharp as fate and fast as judgement.
Angelina did not speak. She simply thrust her hand downward, and the entire cluster of golden arrows hurtled forward.
Elsbeth's eyes widened a second too late. The arrows struck her with blinding force, one after another, piercing her shadow armour and driving her back through the air.
With a thunderous explosion, she crashed into a wall, which shattered like porcelain. A roar of energy blasted through the street, scattering debris.
Smoke billowed.
But Angelina didn't wait.
Before the dust could settle, she stepped forward, her eyes locked upon the swirling shadows where Elsbeth had fallen. Her fingers danced again, swifter this time, each movement a wordless invocation.
From the ceiling above, a golden storm cloud materialized, crackling with impossible energy. It spun rapidly and then, like the hand of a vengeful god, released a bolt of golden lightning, thick as a tree trunk.
CRACK!
It struck Elsbeth dead on.
The whole marketplace and streets flashed white.
The impact shook the very floor.
Elsbeth shrieked—not just in pain, but in fury—her voice echoing with ten thousand ghostly harmonics as she flailed within the blast, her shadows scattering like dead leaves in a hurricane.
She collapsed to her knees, then forward onto her hands, blood seeping from her eyes and mouth as the energy backlash tore through her system.
Angelina stood over her, no longer the transformed figure of power she had become during the height of the battle, but something far more terrifying—a grandmother whose family had been threatened.
The weathered, dignified appearance fell away like a discarded mask, revealing the true depth of her fury.
"You came after my grandson," Angelina said, her voice carrying a cold finality that made the air itself seem to freeze. "You orchestrated attacks against my blood. For that, there can be only one response."
She raised her hand, silver fire beginning to coalesce around her fingers—not the purifying flames she had used earlier, but something darker, more absolute.
This was execution magic, designed to unmake not just the body but the very soul of its target.
Elsbeth looked up at her, seeing death approaching with inexorable certainty.
"Please," she whispered, genuine terror breaking through her earlier arrogance. "Don't kill me."
"Then you should have chosen your allegiances more carefully," Angelina replied, the silver fire intensifying until it cast harsh shadows across the ruined marketplace.
The execution spell began to descend—and was suddenly intercepted by a barrier.
Norimar appeared between them, his half-orc features twisted with exertion as he channelled enough power to deflect Angelina's killing blow.
"That's quite enough, Reverend," he growled, his magical scarifications blazing with contained force.
Angelina's eyes blazed with fury at the interruption. "Stand aside, orc boy. You will get your turn too."
"Ho ho," he laughed out loud, "Elsbeth, you have really outdone yourself, making the mother witch angry, eh?"
Then he began to weave a complex spell around the critically injured Elsbeth. "I can't let her die. After all, she is my comrade."
"I won't let you take her," Angelina snarled, gathering power for an attack that would overwhelm even Norimar's considerable defences.
"She dies here, today."
Norimar's response was to tear open a rift—not a gentle portal, but a violent rip in reality itself. "Another time, perhaps," he said, lifting the barely conscious Elsbeth in his arms. "But today, we have what we came for."
He leaped through the rift just as Angelina's devastating counterattack arrived.
The silver fire struck empty air, the rift sealing itself microseconds before the magical assault could follow its targets.
Angelina stood alone in the suddenly quiet section of the marketplace, her entire body trembling with frustrated rage. Her prey had escaped.
"Cowards!" she screamed at the empty air where the portal had been. "Face me directly instead of skulking in shadows!"
Angelina sensed the magical disturbance of multiple teleportations occurring simultaneously throughout the city.
Her enemies were retreating, but they had achieved something—what, she couldn't yet determine.
But the coordinated nature of their withdrawal suggested this had all been planned, that even their apparent defeat had served some larger purpose.
"This isn't over," she whispered to the wind, her voice carrying a promise of retribution that would echo across dimensions.
"You want to threaten my family? Then you'll discover exactly why they once called me the most dangerous witch alive."