Chapter 126: Screwed
But then more vines erupted from beneath him, thick as ropes, wrapping around his arms, chest, and legs until his entire body was bound in place.
The coils constricted with relentless force, locking him down as though the earth itself sought to crush him.
His staff trembled in his grip, nearly forced from his hands, the mana disks flickering as his focus strained.
The vines hissed as they tightened, sap dripping from their torn surfaces, the sound wet and suffocating. The ground quaked faintly, each pulse of power from Amon’s spell pressing down on Narg like invisible chains.
Then the air shifted.
A low hum began to build in the clearing, steady and rising, the kind of vibration that made the hairs stand on the back of the neck. It was unnatural, too deliberate, like a storm forming in an instant rather than over hours.
Energy converged at the edge of the smoke where Amon stood, his staff raised high, his pendant blazing with a furious glow.
The buildup was eerily familiar. Narg recognized the rhythm of the gathering power, the cadence of destruction. It was identical to the catastrophic orb Amon had launched earlier, the same one that had nearly shattered Dribb’s powerful shield.
Only this time, Narg realized, he was the target.
"DIE!"
Amon’s roar cut through the smoke.
His voice cracked with rage and desperation, each syllable like a jagged blade scraping across stone.
The orb of dark lightning tore itself into being, spiraling from nothing into a mass of crackling force. Veins of black light split the air with a hiss, sizzling as they carved through smoke and dust. The sound was unbearable, like iron being ripped apart, a high-pitched shriek layered over the low rumble of thunder waiting to be born.
With a final thrust, Amon unleashed it.
The projectile screamed forward, raw energy vibrating so violently it warped the air in its path.
The talisman on his chain flared so brightly it was painful to look at. Cracks raced across its surface like veins of shattered glass. It held together, though barely, the glow dimming to a sickly pulse. Its power was almost completely spent.
Amon didn’t care.
His eyes were fixed on Narg with an almost fanatical certainty.
This was it.
This was the strike that would end the duel.
Bound and pinned, Narg had no choice but to meet it head-on. His lips moved in a whisper, his voice calm despite the vines crushing around him.
And he used [Mana Shield], the hexagonal disks snapping into place with sharp precision, each one slamming into alignment until they formed a complete dome of shimmering light around him. But this time, Narg did not hold back.
He poured mana into the construct with ruthless focus, his body shuddering from the strain.
The hexagons thickened, their edges burning with blinding brilliance, stronger than ever before, reinforced to withstand the fury that was moments away.
The ground shuddered as the dark orb struck.
CRACK-BOOM!
The detonation ripped across the battlefield.
The orb of black lightning slammed into the dome with a thunderclap that split the air open. The shockwave roared outward, dirt and smoke blasted into the sky, loose stones ricocheting like shrapnel.
Combatants all around staggered, their duels interrupted, weapons slipping from hands as they scrambled to regain their footing.
Friend and foe alike were thrown into chaos by the sheer violence of the strike.
The shield groaned under the onslaught.
The hexagons flared brighter and brighter, their shapes trembling, warping, as if one more ounce of pressure would tear them apart. Energy screeched across the lattice, lightning crawling like black serpents over its surface.
Narg’s teeth clenched, sweat poured down his brow, his entire body straining to feed mana into the dome before it collapsed.
But the barrier endured.
Inch by inch, it drank in the storm, bleeding the destructive energy into its glowing lattice until the last crackle fizzled away.
When the dust and smoke cleared, the dome’s shape remained, flickering but intact. Slowly, it dissolved into fragments of light that drifted away like dying embers in the wind.
Narg still stood within.
His chest heaved with ragged breaths, but his grip on the staff remained firm. His eyes narrowed, his body taut with the exhaustion of survival.
He was alive.
The shield had withstood Amon’s devastating strike. But the victory came at a cost. The lattice had been pushed past its limits. It needed time to recover, a brief but dangerous cooldown.
For a few seconds—only heartbeats in length—Narg stood with no shield at all.
That was bad.
He was still bound.
The vines coiled tightly around his arms and legs, their surfaces digging into his skin, holding him immobile. His movements were restricted, his options limited.
Worse still, [Danger Sense] blared in his mind, louder than it had all battle, an unrelenting alarm that drowned out every other thought.
This was not the end.
Amon had more.
The smoke parted, and a blur cut through the haze, fast and ruthless.
SWOOSH!
Amon emerged, closing the distance with terrifying speed. His staff was raised, but it no longer looked like a simple conduit for spellwork. Its tip shimmered with a cruel edge, a blade stretching outward.
The wood had become a weapon of execution, designed for close-quarters slaughter rather than long-range destruction.
Amon’s expression was twisted with hatred. His teeth bared in a savage snarl, his eyes wild with the kind of rage that devours reason. He didn’t just want to win.
He wanted to erase Narg completely, to wipe him from existence, to reclaim what he believed had been stolen from him.
Narg raised his staff, attempting to cast an hex to slow Amon down, but the vines held him in place. It was like they had a mind on their own and would remain active even when the caster died.
Amon reached Narg, his blade angled toward his opponent’s neck, gleaming with lethal intent, humming with enough power to sever flesh and bone in a single sweep.
Narg had a second, maybe less, to react.
But there was no resisting against the vines.
He was screwed.