The Crimson Legacy (In Progress)

Chapter 4: Madness

Hundreds of guards stood at attention, their swords drawn, forming a wall of steel that closed in from all sides. The stone walls of the chamber loomed high, and there was no visible way out. The guards had been waiting, biding their time. The illusion hadn't fooled them for long, and now they had sprung their trap.

Zephyr's eyes widened in fear. His illusions were powerful, yes, but in the face of hundreds? His powers would do little against a force this overwhelming. He looked at Clara, desperation flickering in his gaze. "I—I can't... not against this many."

Clara's scarlet eyes burned with cold fury as she scanned the room, calculating, her mind racing through their options. Or rather, their lack of options. Trapped, outnumbered—any other person might surrender. Might try to negotiate.

But Clara wasn't any other person.

Her lips curled into a deadly smile as she glanced at Zephyr. "Stay hidden." she whispered, her voice a dangerous edge.

Before Zephyr could respond, Clara was already in motion.

A blur of scarlet cloak and silver hair, she moved with an otherworldly grace, her body a seamless dance of lethal precision. Her dagger flashed, a deadly extension of her hand, but it wasn't just steel that the guards faced. As her first strike plunged into the throat of the nearest man, her free hand lifted, fingers curling in the air as if commanding unseen strings.

A surge of telekinetic power pulsed from her, scarlet tendrils of magic wrapping around her like a living aura. The guard behind her was flung backward with a mere flick of her wrist, his body crashing into the wall with bone-shattering force. Clara spun, her movements fluid and deliberate, delivering a quick, lethal slice to the next guard's abdomen as she propelled herself forward. Blood spattered across the stone floor, but her expression remained cold, focused.

Her mind was as sharp as the blade in her hand. With each step, Clara wove her magic and physical attacks together, an unstoppable force. She swung her dagger low, severing a guard's hamstring, and as the man screamed and crumpled, she stretched out her hand, her scarlet magic bursting from her palm in a violent wave. The blast sent two more guards flying into the air, their weapons torn from their grips as they collided with the ceiling and then dropped to the ground with sickening thuds.

The remaining guards hesitated, fear flickering in their eyes as they watched her. But Clara didn't pause. She moved like a storm, her dagger flashing as she weaved her telekinesis through each strike. With a thought, she ripped a sword from a guard's hand and hurled it into another's chest. Her magic coiled around her as she pivoted, lifting another enemy into the air and slamming him into the ground with enough force to crack the stone beneath him.

Her movements were art—deadly, calculated, and infused with the raw power of her telekinesis. She struck another guard with a swift, precise stab to the heart, then used her magic to send a blast of energy toward the group attempting to surround her. The crimson wave exploded outward, hurling them back like rag dolls, their bodies crumpling as they collided with the walls.

Scarlet aura flared around her as she turned, her eyes burning with cold intensity. Clara was everywhere at once, cutting down enemies with her dagger and sending others flying with blasts of magical force. The room was a whirlwind of motion, blood, and power.

Zephyr, wide-eyed, could only watch in awe. She didn't need tricks or illusions. Clara was a weapon in her own right, and she was wielding herself with terrifying precision.




In the chaos of the fight, Zephyr stayed low, weaving through the carnage as best he could, his illusions faltering against the sheer number of guards. His breath came in ragged bursts, sweat slicking his brow as he dodged another sword swipe, his focus fractured by the violence erupting around him.