Shadow Slave novel Chapter 1989

Chapter 1989 Home Sweet Home

Morgan had her bow, and the Saints of Night had already summoned their weapons.

In this battle, their strength would be stifled by having to fight on land. However, that did not mean that they were powerless — far from it. Naeve was wearing light, but immensely resilient armor sewn from the skin of some unknown sea monster, wielding a long harpoon made of bone as a spear. His indigo eyes seemed to glow in the moonlight, and his handsome face was both somber and cold. Bloodwave had summoned a heavy armor forged from dull metal, which made his towering figure seem even more formidable. He was armed with a heavy cutlass — there were two of them before, but one had been destroyed in one of the previous battles. Now, the taciturn Saint simply used the claws of his steel gauntlet to rend the flesh of his enemies. Aether reached toward the sky, grasping a ray of starlight and manifesting it into a thin blade. The youngest of the Saints did not possess as much physical strength as the rest of them, but made up for it with speed and skill. The weapons he could weave from starlight were absolutely lethal… still, his Aspect was not suited for close combat that well. Not that anyone was suited well for facing Mordret. Today, the defenders of the crumbling fortress were weaker than they had ever been. Morgan's three most powerful champions were away, each dealing with their own crisis.

Her brother, meanwhile, still possessed more than enough vessels to take the castle. Some of them were following Knossos and Typhaon, but ten — including his true body — were here.

They had already scaled the outer wall, avoiding the cloud of mist and the Nightmare Creatures that were still fighting Soul Reaper within it. Mordret himself lingered at the top of the rampart, looking up at the second ring of the battlements. Despite the apocalyptic noise of the battle, his voice reached Morgan and her Saints clearly. "Ah… how sweet it is, to finally come home." _{ƒree𝑤ebnσvel.com}

Despite the sweet words, his tone was deep and dark, full of nothing but coldness and malice.

He smiled. "Aren't you going to welcome me, sister?"

Instead of an answer, Morgan sent an arrow flying his way. Laughing, Mordret swatted it away with his sword. As the Spell whispered in her ear, announcing the Memory's destruction, her brother and his vessels leaped off the outer wall and rushed toward the second ring. 'I guess he's done being sentimental.'

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