Chronicles of Yeshu: Fellowship of Faith

By Matt Lucas

With the flames of his violent past scorched into his mind, Wilas battles through Orixe’s blood-soaked crucible to gain audience with the ruling Triad, a trio of demonic gods. These vicious deities control the distribution of magic, elevating the depraved to lofty heights while the rest of the continent is left to rot in squalor. At the behest of the Forgotten God, Yeshu, Wilas enters their fabled coliseum to fulfill an ancient prophecy and remind the world that the Triad isn’t the only source of power.
Wilas’ uprising rejuvenates Yeshu’s Forbidden Faith, igniting a rebellion that will engulf the continent. For centuries the Triad had strived to wipe the name of Yeshu from Orixe’s hearts and minds. Now, with each of Wilas’ victories, Yeshu’s resurgent faith ravages the Triad’s strongholds, forcing the malicious overlords to the brink. Desperate, they unleash a devious plot to ravage Yeshu’s chosen warrior’s soul with doubt and establish the Shadow Throne’s unending dominion.
Meanwhile, malevolent winds blow from the north. An ancient power stirs within the hallowed walls of Solom’s Temple. It beckons Robear Malloy to claim Orixe’s crown from his ancestor’s seat and usher in a new kingdom. When the young Duke of Hyde crosses the threshold into the arcane pyramid, he’ll incite a chain of events that will pit kingdom against kingdom, blood against blood, and gods against God.

• Language: English
• Publisher: World Castle Publishing, LLC
• Release date: Feb 6, 2023
• ISBN: 9781960076175

Matt Lucas

MATT LUCAS writes varying forms of speculative fiction, including urban fantasy, paranormal, sci-fi, and horror. He weaves these genres in an action-packed, thought-provoking manner. Teeming with fresh ideas, Matt’s broad skill set includes apocalyptic literature, sword & sorcery epics, paranormal alternate history, and even romance. Cultivating complex characters, Matt guides you into questioning the hero's motives and empathizing with the villain's tortured past. Red herrings abound as you follow twisting plots adorned with subtle hints that culminate in shocking conclusions. Each of Matt’s works serve as an allegory for faith, ultimately pointing to the world’s true and only hero, Jesus Christ.The Shadow Gospels is the first of Matt’s novel-length works to hit the presses. However, be sure to expect more as this planned trilogy continues and other stories move from imagination to reality.

Book preview

Chapter 1: Trials of the Triad

Raucous cheers ripped through the arena in exhilarated anticipation of imminent carnage. Wilas’s thumping heartbeat drowned out the dissonance. His sweaty grip tightened around his war hammer’s handle.

Across the sandy expanse stood a colossal bronze gate. Behind that gate, a myriad of sadistic terrors lurked, yearning to rip Wilas Erkhan and his cohort, Klowan Hartwin, to ribbons. Victory meant earning an audience with the Triad, Orixe’s ruling deities, to receive their gift of dark magic. Defeat, on the other hand, meant certain death.

The sinewy, gray-bearded Klowan twirled his battle axe and donned his iron shield. Wilas’s oldest friend had seen thirty years, but the stress of life under the Triad’s unscrupulous reign had thinned his hair and turned it gray. Three hellish bouts to build a better world, Klowan’s gruff voice reassured himself.

Wilas placed an iron helm over his jet-black locks and adjusted the leather tunic that covered his broad shoulders and barrelled chest. The flames of his tortured past blazed through his memory. Visions of charred bodies and scorched earth had been branded into the young warrior’s mind.

Three bouts, Wilas growled through gritted teeth. He’d long envisioned the sweet vengeance at the end of this blood-soaked path.

It’s bound to be a long road, Klowan reckoned, so do me a favor and try to have a little fun. You’re too bloody grim all the time!

Wilas smirked. I’ll do my best.

Just then, a deep bullhorn blustered through Orixe’s fabled Bludhurst Crucible. Chains rattled as the bronze gate crept open. Thunderous footsteps echoed from the dark corridor beyond. The first trial had begun.

What do you reckon our first challenge will be? Wilas pondered.

Well, this is Magoroth, King of Beast’s trial. My bet is something big and scary that probably wants to eat our faces, Klowan hypothesized.

Esteemed spectators, the Bludhurst Crucible’s eccentric, bald, and rainbow-robed arena master shouted from his raised pedestal, I give to you…the behemoth!

Quakes rippled through the sands. A hulking silhouette charged toward the light. A deep roar blared from the dark tunnel.

Stampeding into the arena, the behemoth was met with a fanfare of awe and fear. Two forward pointing, swirled horns jetted from the beast’s brow. Razor-sharp spikes adorned the four-legged creature’s back from the nape of its neck to its clubbed tail.

The behemoth’s gaze darted in search of its adversaries. Fixating on the two combatants, the beast released a guttural growl, exposing rows of serrated teeth. The creature kicked its hind legs and snorted like a blustering bull.

See, Klowan observed, big, scary, and definitely wants to eat us.

Any other predictions? Wilas asked, rolling his chestnut eyes.

Klowan grinned. Mischief flared in his pale blue eyes. I’m gonna bury my axe in that thing’s neck.

Let’s hope you’re a prophet, Wilas remarked.

Tremors shook the arena as the behemoth’s hefty feet galloped toward its challengers. Undaunted, Wilas charged his rival with Klowan on his heels. The beast lowered its daggered horns with murderous intent.

As the lethal joust neared its inflection point, Wilas reared his war hammer back. Summoning his might, the warrior struck. A boisterous snap echoed through the arena, followed by an agonizing screech.

The devastating collision of hammer and bone splintered the behemoth’s left horn from its brow. Recoiling, the beast whirled right while swinging its clubbed tail. Wilas ducked to evade.

Klowan, however, wasn’t so nimble. Instincts spurred him to crouch behind his shield, but his refuge was flimsy against the behemoth’s mighty tail. A deafening ring pierced Wilas’s ears when the tail’s hardened flesh rammed iron, sending Klowan careening.

Whirling back around, the behemoth unleashed its counterstrike. Erratic snapping jowls sought Wilas. Backpedalling, the warrior dodged the onslaught. Unable to restrain its bloodlust, the behemoth lurched forward with yawning jaws.

Winding his hammer back, Wilas unleashed a fierce uppercut. Steel collided with bone, sending shards of teeth spewing from the behemoth’s mouth. The savage blow forced the creature’s head skyward in recoil.

For an instant, the behemoth’s neck was exposed. Wilas’s hand sped to his short sword’s hilt, which hung from his belt. Brandishing the weapon, the warrior took aim at his foe’s weakness. However, a warm splatter of black blood splashed his face and interrupted his plot.

A shrill cry blared from the behemoth as Klowan’s battle axe hurdled through the air and plunged into the creature’s neck. A fountain of blood cascaded from the beast’s severed jugular. Wilas turned to find a smirking, triumphant Klowan.

The behemoth groaned and swayed before collapsing into a pool of its own blood. A roar of admiration gushed from the entertained spectators. Bludhurst Crucible’s eccentric arena master bellowed with exhilaration.

Never in the history of this prestigious arena has a behemoth been disposed of with such rapid ferocity! The bald arena master lauded. Thanks to the brave Klowan! Only two more death defying trials lay between our heroes and the esteemed Triad!

Wilas cocked his head to the side and leered at Klowan. So, I do the work, and you get the glory?

Klowan chortled, planting his foot on the creature’s neck and wresting his axe free. I was only fulfilling my prophecy, old friend.

People of Orixe, our valiant combatants felled Magoroth, King of Beast’s, mighty behemoth, Bludhurst’s barker proclaimed. Next, our beloved Alurel, the Enchantress’, trial awaits!

The sky darkened, and a malevolent mist descended into the arena. A chilled wind swept through Wilas’s bones. The warriors exchanged apprehensive glances. Triumphant smiles lowered into clenched frowns.

Stay vigilant, Wilas cautioned. Alurel is the mistress of the mind.

Klowan’s eyes narrowed with a solemn nod. As the mist descended, Wilas’s companion disappeared into the fog. They were each on their own now.

Wilas tread into the smog with slow, deliberate steps. He’d witnessed the devastation Alurel wrought with her psychological warfare. She drove men mad, deceiving them to murder their kin, betray their country, or indulge their darkest desires. There was no telling what horrors might lurk in the mist.

Wilas, a woman’s faint whisper slithered through the fog.

The warrior’s eyes scanned the shrouded arena. A blur rustled just beyond his view. Taking a deep breath to summon his courage, Wilas crept toward the sound.

Come to me, Wilas, a familiar voice summoned.

That’s when a humanoid shadow formed within the haze. Like a wraith, it floated toward the warrior. Wilas’s heart pounded, sweat drenched his palms, and the hair rose on the back of his neck.

Stay back! Wilas demanded.

Undaunted, the shadow advanced.

You wouldn’t hurt me, Wilas, the figure retorted.

Who are you?

A woman glided out from the murky veil. She was beautiful, wearing a white robe that made her black hair shimmer like onyx. Her green eyes filled Wilas with a long-forgotten sense of solace.

Wilas gasped. His grip loosened on his hammer, allowing it to thud to the sand below. Mother?

Come to me, child, Elys beckoned with a stoic, unblinking gaze.

Wilas’s heart leapt within his chest. His face turned flush with joy. Tears streamed down his face as he staggered toward his mother with outstretched arms.

He wrapped his arms around Elys, though she didn’t reciprocate his embrace. What are you doing here? she probed.

I came to avenge you…to make the Triad pay for what they’ve done to this land, Wilas proclaimed.

Elys’s emerald glare narrowed. The Triad didn’t kill me…you did.

What? Bewildered, Wilas flinched.

Elys’s hand snatched Wilas by the throat, lifting him off his feet with ease. Scowling, her hand clamped down on his windpipe. The warrior wheezed, clamoring to suck down air.

Allow me to remind you what they did to me, what you allowed them to do! she roared.

Blistering sores and black char glided across Elys’s tissues. Her lips receded in decomposition, exposing the rotting gum beneath. Her emerald eyes morphed into bloodshot monstrosities, and her eyelids fizzled to ash.

Do you remember? the revolting husk howled. Do you remember how I was mutilated while you cowered in the forest?

Smoke singed Wilas’s nostrils, and tortured screams pierced his ears. In an instant, he was transported back to that fateful day. He’d gone hunting in early in the morning. However, when the black smog rose above the tree line, the young boy raced home. There, he met devastation.

Flame consumed quaint huts. Bodies were strewn about the humble village. Some villagers wailed in anguish, embroiled in magmatic fetters. Others were feasted upon by flesh-eating scorpteras. Repulsive creations of Magoroth, scorpteras were armored, vulture-sized bats with venomous scorpion tails.

Meanwhile, Iraud, The Supreme Mage and third sibling of the Triad’s, warlocks rounded up the survivors for interrogation. Without remorse, they tormented villagers with the Triad’s dark magic. Spindles of lava sprouted from their black wands, constricting their victims like blazing serpents. The villagers squirmed as their skin sizzled.

Hiding behind a tree, Wilas peered into the desolate ruins of his razed village. With resistance subdued, two figures emerged from the smoke. The first was an alluring woman with scarlet hair and yellow eyes. Flames adorned her luscious figure like an extravagant gown.

Alongside Alurel stood Iraud. His pale skin bore elaborate runes etched in fire. He wore red, flowing robes ornamented with opulent gold embroidery. An aura of arrogance followed the bald, black-eyed mage.

Where is the scepter? Iraud interrogated the village’s whimpering chieftain without a glimmer of emotion for the wreckage wrought on this peaceful hamlet.

We don’t have it! Arturo, the village’s husky, white-bearded leader, strained to reply.

Come now, barbarian, Iraud goaded. Where is the scepter Yeshu promised you?

It isn’t here! Arturo beseeched.

Shifting tactics, Alurel knelt next to the chieftain. Perhaps a kiss will jog your memory, she tantalized. Stooping low, the voluptuous enchantress planted her sultry lips on Arturo’s.

A malaise washed over Arturo. His gaze turned forlorn and distant. Yet, despite Alurel’s entrancing kiss, he had no truth to offer.

Seeing their answer remained elusive, Iraud’s temper flared as the fiery runes that ornamented his body gleamed brighter. Enough! I’ll flay every one of these traitorous heathens until they hand over the relic!

An ominous smile curled among Alurel’s plump lips. Your magic is much too quick. Allow our brother to indulge in the entertainment as well.

He’ll decimate the entire village, Iraud admonished, tossing his arms up in outrage. Then the scepter will be lost.

Alurel scoffed. This is the last tribe loyal to Yeshu in Orixe. When they are reduced to ashes, rumors of the scepter will scatter like dust in the wind.

The supreme mage ruminated on the plot before relenting with a begrudging nod.

Come, brother, Alurel called to the sky, raising beckoning arms. We’ve prepared a feast for you!

A gargantuan shadow blotted out the sun. The thunderous flapping of mighty wings sent potent gusts bristling through the landscape. With a deafening roar, the black-scaled dragon announced his arrival. Magoroth sent tremors rippling through the earth when he landed beside his kin.

Bring forth an offering to the king of beasts, Iraud instructed his warlocks.

Raising his wand, one of the black cloaked warlocks levitated a body constricted by lava. Immediately, Wilas recognized her jet-black hair. His heart lurched in anguish when he saw sheer dread gripping those emerald eyes.

Magoroth’s toothful mouth yawned, an orange glow emanating from within his serpentine throat. A river of torturous flame erupted from the onyx lizard. Wilas clenched his eyes shut. He refused to watch Elys’s skin melt off her bones. However, her piercing wails would haunt him for the rest of his days.

Look at me! Elys commanded back in the present. Look at what your cowardice earned!

Wilas’s gaze was fixed on the grisly woman. Guilt, shame, and self-loathing polluted the warrior’s thoughts. You deserve the guilt! You deserve the shame! It would’ve been better if you’d burned with her that day! a vicious voice accused.

You were just a boy, a familiar, advocating voice rose in his defense. Let go of your pain. Release it, so I might fashion it into a weapon.

A choice lay before Wilas. He could succumb to his malevolent doubts and shackle himself to the oppressive fetters of guilt and shame, or he could cast his burdens aside and embrace redemption.

The choice was clear. Wilas’s short sword sped from its scabbard and slashed upwards. Steel sliced through meat and bone, severing the choking arm. A pained shriek exploded from Elys. However, the attack only served to stoke her rage.

The wench swiped at Wilas with her left hand. The warrior ducked the blow. In her overzealousness, Elys overextended herself, leaving her midsection exposed. Wilas seized the advantage. He flipped the blade to his left hand and shoved it between his foe’s ribs. The gruesome wraith howled, though her aggression persisted.

Reversing direction, Elys unleashed a backhanded slash. Wilas’s right hand snatched the counterstrike. He ripped the sword from his between his foe’s ribs and slashed off her remaining arm.

Elys dropped to her knees. She hung her head, grimacing with each labored pant. You wouldn’t dare kill your own mother, she sneered.

Wilas grabbed the charred woman by the scalp. He forced her tortured eyes to stare into his own. His jaw tightened as he pressed his blade’s point to her throat. You’re not my mother. Without remorse, he pressed the sword through her throat and out the back of her neck.

When the charred husk collapsed, its magical façade dissipated. Elys disappeared. In her stead lay a grotesque, emaciated creature with wisps of brittle white hair and gray skin. Wilas recognized the abomination.

Banshees, a gruff voice announced from Wilas’s side.

Soon, the fog began to disperse, revealing a blood-soaked Klowan. His eyes were wide, reeling from whatever horror he’d endured. He panted with physical and emotional exhaustion.

The enchantress’ masterpieces, Wilas spat.

Bloody, psychotic harlot, Klowan snarled. She tortures you with your greatest fear before she kills you.

What’d you see? Wilas probed.

Klowan’s apprehensive lips pursed. Lion spiders. You?

Wilas fixated on the enchantress’s revolting creation. Guilt.

Boisterous cheers from Bludhurst Crucible’s fawning crowd erupted when the mist cleared. With the bodies of two banshees and a behemoth left in their wake, only Iraud’s trial awaited. They were one step closer to the Triad.

A nervous shudder traversed up Wilas’s spine. Klowan shifted in a futile attempt to quell his nerves. Both men heard the rumors of the supreme mage’s trial. Though they couldn’t know what their predecessors faced, Klowan and Wilas saw the bodies of those who failed the sadistic challenge.

Unsuccessful combatants returned to their families mutilated beyond recognition and drained of most of their blood. One or two victims would always return. However, there was never a scenario where both challengers survived.

Attending Bludhurst Crucible’s gladiatorial bouts were exclusive to those who’d received the Triad’s magical blessing. This gift could either be earned within the arena or bought with blood sacrifice. Since Wilas and Klowan had not yet completed in the arena nor possessed the appalling fortitude to offer a human sacrifice to these twisted deities, they could only speculate as to what horrors loomed on their horizon.

And now for the final trial, the arena barker’s once jubilant tone turned solemn.

The two warriors exchanged stoic glances. Whatever it takes, Klowan pledged.

Whatever it takes, Wilas affirmed.

The bronze gate squealed open. The dark silhouette of a man stood statuesque and shrouded in shadow. A tense hush fell over the crowd.

Fiery symbols began glowing on the shadow’s forehead and hands. The runes illuminated red robes with gold ornamentation. A reverent murmur permeated the crowd. The supreme mage stepped forth.

Klowan crouched, readying his axe and shield for battle. Wilas’s quaking hand slid to a slender scabbard hanging on his belt opposite his short sword. His fingers wrapped around the white, wooden handle, deliberating on the opportune moment to unveil it.

Patience, Klowan cautioned, anticipating Wilas’s plot. Wait till we have all three.

Iraud emerged to deafening veneration. The crowd of loyal followers grovelled in awe of their magical idol. Raising his exultant arms, the supreme mage huffed in his subjects’ adoration.

Loyal Orixenes, the supreme mage addressed the crowd. Two commendable warriors stand before you! Together they bested my brother’s brutal behemoth and resisted my sister’s spiritual assault!

The crowd lauded Wilas and Klowan.

Iraud raised a finger to quell the onlookers’ enthusiasm. However, their noble quest faces a final test! As you know, only the most ruthless are worthy to stand amongst the Triad’s elect!

Wilas gulped. Memories of his mutilated forbearers raced through his mind. He fought to control his quivering breath.

Our gift of magic comes at a price, Iraud proclaimed. Only those with the strength to pay may ascend to enlightenment!

I don’t like the sound of this, Klowan grumbled.

We are Orixe’s only source of power, Iraud expounded. As you know, our favor must be bought with blood! Two vessels stand before you with blood pulsing through their veins! The deity glowered at the combatants. For one to overflow, the other must be emptied.

A stark realization struck Wilas. The mystery of the blood-drained corpses was illuminated. To receive the Triad’s magic, one had to betray and murder their partner.

Wilas turned to Klowan. He didn’t see the burly, bearded man. Instead, he saw the young boy who found an abandoned child in the forest. He’d shown Wilas kindness and brought him back to his village where they were raised together. He saw a friend. He saw a brother.

And if we refuse? Wilas asked.

A disturbing grin slithered across Iraud’s pale face as he unsheathed an obsidian wand from beneath his lavish robes. We still have a show to put on. Our spectators demand entertainment. So, I will peel the meat from your bones until their bloodlust is sated.

Dejected, Klowan sighed, embracing his fate. His shoulders slumped, seeing the duo’s only path forward. It has to be me, brother. You know it to be true.

No! Wilas refused. I won’t kill you!

We don’t have a choice, you stubborn fool! Klowan scolded, shaking an impassioned fist. Whatever it takes! Remember! I’m prepared to pay the price to build a better world!

Sweat beaded on Wilas’s brow. Nervous heat permeated his chest. He could hear the drumbeat of his fearful heart booming. The hair on his neck stood on edge, like a wild animal boxed into a corner. There was only one way out…forward.

Wilas’s fiery gaze met Iraud’s. Righteous rebellion swelled in his chest. No. We came here to build a new world. If we’re willing to succumb to depravity to seize power, we’re not different from our corrupt overlords…we’re more of the same.

Klowan grabbed Wilas by the arm. We get one shot at this! We need all three siblings, he implored. We can only get to all the demons if we play their sadistic game!

Epiphany struck. Wilas’s grip tightened on his war hammer, and his hand brushed over the white, wooden handle nestled in his scabbard. Not if we make Magoroth and Alurel come to us.

Klowan’s perplexed brow furrowed. And how do you suppose we do that?

They want blood, right? Wilas pointed his hammer at the mage. Once we spill his, they’ll come.

The arrogant supreme mage scoffed. So, you’ve chosen death? A pity. You would’ve made fine additions to our army.

With reckless abandonment, Wilas rushed the supreme mage. Iraud shot his wand forward. A beam of red energy screeched toward the warrior. When the spell came within range, Wilas swung his mighty hammer.

The gleaming war hammer collided with the spell. A shockwave sent a plume of sand emanating from the collision’s epicenter. The beam ricocheted off the weapon and rebounded toward the arena’s left wall.

Desperate bystanders shrieked as they fled the charging spell. A thunderous explosion shook the landscape, blasting a hole in the arena. Smouldering debris and spectators’ limbs soared through the air.

A shocked gasp pervaded the Bludhurst audience. Iraud stood dumbfounded and rigid, reeling from the fantastic spectacle. Curious peasants from the outlying town flocked to the wreckage. They clamored over each other, desperate to catch a glimpse into the fabled coliseum. When they saw a mere mortal standing in defiance of a deity, they were awestruck.

Impossible! Iraud barked.

In a fit of rage, the supreme mage thrashed his wand, unleashing a magical firestorm. The rapid onslaught sent a flurry of energy beams scorching through the air toward Wilas. Despite the unrelenting barrage, the deft warrior parried or dodged, thwarting each curse.

Ricocheted spells struck different areas throughout the crucible. The Triad’s loyal subjects stampeded from the array of explosions that barraged the landscape. Chaos reigned as the spectators trampled over each other in frantic retreat.

Enough child’s play! the frustrated deity shouted, lifting his wand skyward.

The clouds overhead darkened and swirled at Iraud’s behest. An ominous chasm formed in the sky. Black and purple bolts of static electricity flickered from the void.

Iraud’s runes pulsed with white-hot fury, and the whites of his eyes turned black. He chanted in an arcane tongue. A threatening gust swept over the sands, sending Wilas and Klowan skidding on their heels. That’s when a thunderclap bombarded their ears.

A black bolt of lightning careened toward Iraud. It struck his wand. Crying out, the deity strained to control the raw magic coursing through his body.

The supreme mage’s red runes were set ablaze. His body trembled, teeming with dark magic. With a roar, Iraud thrust his wand toward Wilas.

A black bolt screeched from the wand. A jagged stream of energy sped toward Wilas. The time had come to show Orixe a new path away from the Triad’s magic.

Wilas drew a white, gnarled wand from its scabbard. A gilded river of energy sprang from the majestic instrument. Darkness and light collided in a dazzling spectacle.

Tremors rippled beneath their feet. A plume of sparks erupted from the dueling energies’ epicenter. Light pushed back the darkness until it consumed the supreme mage’s spell and struck its caster. Wilas’s spell launched Iraud through the air before he landed with a thud onto his back.

Sitting up, Iraud gawked at his adversary. H-how? He stammered.

Fury burned in Wilas’s brown irises as he glared at his foe. I’m the flame you couldn’t stamp out, the ember that will grow into an inferno! The warrior raised his wand once more. His hand trembled as he found himself standing in the place he’d dreamt of reaching for decades.

That’s when a sudden earthquake tore through the arena, interrupting Wilas’s killing strike. Magoroth exploded skyward from behind the bronze gate, leaving heaps of rubble in his wake. The winged, onyx serpent swirled above the arena before landing between Wilas and Iraud. The King of Beasts released a menacing roar as his sister climbed off his back.

Looks like your plan worked, Klowan observed. Let’s just hope it doesn’t get us killed.

I see we haven’t quite eradicated Yeshu’s stain from Orixe, Alurel leered at her rebellious adversaries.

We must burn away this infection before it festers, Magoroth growled. His deep tones rumbled off the arena walls.

That is your expertise, brother, Alurel goaded with a pretentious snort.

It would be my pleasure, Magoroth avowed as his scaly lips spread into a sadistic, fanged sneer.

Rearing his serpentine neck back, an orange glow blossomed within Magoroth’s throat. Smoke billowed from his nostrils and out the corners of his mouth.

Get behind me! Wilas shouted to Klowan.

With a shout, the dragon hurled a sweltering stream of dragonfire toward them. Klowan dove behind Wilas. The warrior mage looped his wand to his side before swiping it upwards. A shield of water manifested before the intrepid duo.

Steam sizzled, but the watery safeguard refused to relent. Wilas dug his resilient heels into the sand. The dragon advanced in a futile effort to push back his foes.

With Magoroth’s breath held at bay, Wilas seized the opportunity for a counterattack. He launched his hammer toward the dragon from behind their watery fortification. The steel sung as it sped through the air. A booming clang erupted as the hammer pulverized Magoroth’s jaw.

The fiery blast ceased. The hammer’s blow forced the King of Beast’s head skyward. As the black scaled serpent recuperated, Wilas thrust his wand forward. An invisible grip latched onto the hammer, halting its momentum. Flicking his wand back toward himself, Wilas summoned the hammer back to his hand.

When Wilas’s weapon returned, an enraged Magoroth lashed out. Rows of serrated fangs barrelled toward the warrior. Thrusting his wand toward the lunging beast, an unseen force restrained the dragon’s onslaught. With his foe suspended before him, Wilas struck.

His hammer crashed into the side of the dragon’s face. Bone crunched beneath metal as the beast’s orbital bone caved. Releasing a shrill groan, Magoroth tumbled onto his side and writhed as black blood splurged from his wound.

An impressive display, Alurel scoffed, feigning applause.

"I’m not