Cosmic Ruler - Chapter 357

Chapter 357: Trap

Aiden turned to the others. “Prepare to move. If we can confirm the location, we’re not waiting three days. We strike before they’re ready.”

Reia frowned. “You sure about this? If we rush in without proper intel, it could be a trap.”

“It’s always a trap,” Aiden said, his tone steady. “But if we let them complete that ritual, it won’t matter. We have to take the risk.”

The room buzzed with a tense energy as everyone moved to action. Myne lingered, her emerald eyes fixed on Aiden.

“You’re betting everything on this,” she said quietly.

He met her gaze, unflinching. “That’s how you win.”

Arlen’s voice cut through the tense silence. “Got it!” His fingers paused over the screen, and he looked up, eyes alight with urgency. “Signal’s coming from an abandoned fortress—Skyrend Bastion. It’s about two days northeast, just beyond the Deadspire Woods.”

Myne let out a low whistle. “Skyrend, huh? That place is a fortress in more ways than one. Natural choke points, reinforced walls, and rumors of ancient enchantments still lingering in the stone.”

Aiden didn’t hesitate. “Then we’ll need to be faster and smarter. If they’re expecting to have three days to fortify, we strike in one.”

Reia stepped closer, her arms crossed tightly. “You’re asking us to go into a fortress crawling with their forces, possibly enchanted to hell and back, with barely any prep time. You sure this isn’t suicide?”

Aiden turned to her, his golden gaze unwavering. “It’s only suicide if we hesitate. They think they’re untouchable in Skyrend. That arrogance is their weakness. We hit them before they know what’s happening, before they can activate whatever they’re building. If we’re decisive, we can dismantle their plans before they even begin.”

Reia’s lips pressed into a thin line, but after a moment, she nodded. “Fine. I’ll make sure the scouts don’t slow us down on the way there.”

Aiden gave her a curt nod of approval before addressing the team. “Myne, I’ll need your shadowmancy at full capacity. Once we breach the outer defenses, your illusions will keep us hidden long enough to get close.”

“Always,” Myne replied with a smirk. “I’ll give them a show they won’t forget.”

“Cyris,” Aiden continued, turning to the towering warrior, who had been sharpening his blades in silence. “You and I will take point. Clear a path through the guards, but quietly. No alarms.”

Cyris nodded, his expression grim but resolute. “Understood.”

“Arlen,” Aiden said, his gaze shifting to the wiry tech expert. “Keep monitoring their comms. If they call for reinforcements, I want to know about it before they get there.”

Arlen saluted mockingly, though his grin was genuine. “You got it, boss.”

Finally, Aiden’s gaze swept across the room. “We move out in an hour. Check your gear, double-check your exit strategies, and be ready for anything. This isn’t just another strike—it’s a message. The Celestial Court doesn’t get to play god without consequences.”

The air in the room was electric, the weight of the mission pressing down on everyone’s shoulders. But as Aiden stood there, radiating quiet confidence, the tension began to shift. The doubts and fears faded, replaced by a determined resolve. They had followed him through hell before, and they would do it again.

The march through the Deadspire Woods was as treacherous as expected. The twisted trees loomed overhead, their gnarled branches clawing at the sky like skeletal hands. The air was thick with the scent of decay, and the faint sounds of distant howls echoed through the gloom.

Myne stayed close to Aiden, her shadows wrapping around the group like a protective cloak. “This place gives me the creeps,” she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper.

Aiden didn’t respond, his focus locked on the path ahead. Every step brought them closer to Skyrend Bastion, and with it, the promise of danger. His spirit sense reached out, scanning for signs of ambushes or hidden traps.

When they finally broke through the tree line, the fortress came into view, its silhouette stark against the blood-red hues of the setting sun. Skyrend Bastion was as imposing as Myne had described—massive stone walls lined with jagged battlements, their surfaces darkened with age and magic. Guard towers jutted up at regular intervals, their watchfires flickering ominously.

Arlen crouched beside Aiden, his voice hushed. “Looks like they’ve got patrols circling the perimeter. Two-man teams, rotating every fifteen minutes. No sign of any heavy artillery, but the gates look reinforced.”

“Good,” Aiden said. “That means they’re relying on the walls to keep enemies out. They won’t expect us to go over them.”

Reia raised an eyebrow. “And how exactly are we going to scale a wall that tall without getting spotted?”

Aiden turned to Myne, who grinned. “Leave that to me. Once we’re close enough, I can shroud us in shadows. The patrols won’t see a thing.”

“Then we move now,” Aiden said, his tone brooking no argument. “Stick to the plan. Silent and swift.”

The climb up the wall was a nerve-wracking affair, each handhold and foothold chosen with precision. Myne’s shadows wrapped around them like a living cloak, bending the light and muffling their movements. The guards above remained oblivious, their lanterns swinging lazily as they passed.

When they reached the top, Aiden led the charge, his blade flashing as he dispatched the first guard with ruthless efficiency. Cyris was right behind him, his heavy strikes silencing another before an alarm could be raised.

Within moments, the team was inside the fortress, their presence undetected. Aiden’s spirit sense flared as he scanned the area, locating the central courtyard where the ritual was likely being prepared.

“This way,” he whispered, gesturing for the others to follow.

As they moved through the shadowed corridors, the faint hum of magic grew stronger, resonating through the stone walls like a heartbeat. It was a sound that spoke of power—raw, untamed, and dangerous.

When they reached the courtyard, the sight that greeted them was enough to make even Myne’s confident smirk falter. At the center of the space stood a massive rune circle, its lines glowing with an otherworldly light. Figures in ceremonial robes moved around it, their chants filling the air with an eerie cadence.

And at the heart of the circle was a swirling vortex of energy, pulsing with a malevolent life of its own.

Aiden’s jaw tightened as he took it all in. “This ends now,” he said, his voice low but fierce.

Myne’s grin returned, sharper than ever. “About time. Let’s crash their little party.”

Aiden gave a silent hand signal, and the team spread out, moving like shadows through the courtyard’s perimeter. Myne’s illusions cloaked their presence, twisting light and sound to confuse any prying eyes. Cyris hefted his blades, his muscles taut with anticipation, while Reia readied her bow, her eyes locked on the robed figures.

Arlen’s voice buzzed softly through the comms. “They’re chanting in Old Celestial. Looks like a summoning spell, maybe even a binding ritual. The energy levels are off the charts. Whatever they’re bringing through… it’s not friendly.”

Aiden didn’t need the warning. The raw power emanating from the vortex was enough to make his skin crawl. The Celestial Court was playing with forces far beyond their control, and the consequences would be catastrophic if they succeeded.

“We disrupt the ritual first,” he said quietly. “Then we clean up the rest.”

Myne crouched beside him, her green eyes alight with mischief. “You want loud or subtle?”

“Subtle,” Aiden replied. “We take them out before they even realize we’re here.”

She sighed dramatically. “Fine, but you owe me a loud one next time.”

With a flick of her wrist, shadows surged forward, creeping along the ground like living tendrils. The robed figures didn’t notice until it was too late. The first one was yanked into the darkness with a strangled cry, his voice cut off before it could rise above a whisper. Another followed, his body vanishing into the void before his companions could react.

Reia’s arrows found their marks with deadly precision, each one striking a robed figure in the throat or chest. Cyris moved like a storm, his blades a blur as he cut down any who came too close. Aiden was in the thick of it, his strikes efficient and merciless, his golden eyes scanning the battlefield for any sign of reinforcements.

But the vortex didn’t falter. If anything, the ritual seemed to accelerate, the energy spiraling faster and faster as the remaining robed figures chanted desperately.

“They’re using a fail-safe!” Arlen hissed over the comms. “They’re sacrificing themselves to stabilize the ritual. If we don’t stop it now, whatever’s on the other side is coming through!”

Aiden’s mind raced. They were running out of time. “Arlen, can you disrupt the circle?”

“Already working on it!” Arlen replied, his fingers flying over his portable console. “Just keep them off me for thirty seconds.”

Aiden nodded to Cyris and Reia. “Protect Arlen. Myne, with me. We’re taking out the lead caster.”

The pair moved as one, slipping through the chaos toward the center of the courtyard. The lead caster stood before the vortex, his hands raised high as he chanted in a booming voice. His robes were more ornate than the others, his body radiating an aura of dark power.

Myne flicked her wrist, sending a wave of shadows toward him, but the caster raised a hand, and the shadows dissipated against an invisible barrier.

“Figures,” she muttered. “He’s got shields.”

“I’ll break them,” Aiden said, his tone cold. He extended his hand, summoning his Golden Sword Martial Spirit. The blade shimmered into existence, its radiant light a stark contrast to the dark energy swirling around them.