The Bigshot's Superstar Wife - Chapter 68

Chapter 68: To the Battlefield

She darted behind him in a blur, pressing the tip of Arthivian against the back of his neck. “Checkmate.”

Mors exhaled sharply, but instead of conceding, he smirked. “You forgot one thing.”

His free hand shot up, fingers tracing a glowing sigil in the air. A pulse of golden energy surged through his body, breaking Athena’s spell instantly.

In a flash, he spun, knocking Arthivian away with the flat of his blade. Before she could react, he brought Elsienflora down, stopping mere inches from her shoulder.

Athena’s breath hitched.

He grinned. “Checkmate.”

She scoffed but couldn’t hide the impressed glint in her eyes. “Fine. You win this round.”

They stepped apart, both breathing heavily but exhilarated. The training ground was littered with scorch marks, cracks in the earth, and lingering traces of their unleashed power.

The air buzzed with magic, the scent of divine energy and raw electricity mingling in the space between them.

But they weren’t done.

“Let’s test prayers next,” Athena suggested, lowering her sword but keeping her stance ready. “I want to see how well you can wield saintess magic.”

Mors hesitated. The idea of using healing magic in battle felt unnatural to him. He was a warrior, someone who had always relied on strength and strategy.

But he knew this was necessary. He closed his eyes, gripping Elsienflora tightly, and whispered a prayer from the book.

A golden light surrounded him, gentle yet powerful. Athena watched as his wounds, minor cuts from their sparring session, sealed themselves before her eyes.

The warmth of the magic was unlike anything she had felt before.

“Incredible,” she murmured. “It’s like a living force.”

Mors opened his eyes, exhaling slowly. “It’s… different from what I expected. It’s not just healing. It feels like an extension of will itself.”

Athena nodded, stepping forward. “Then let’s push it further.”

She raised her free hand, murmuring an incantation.

The shadows around them darkened as she summoned a fragment of pure destruction magic, a small orb of swirling void energy. It pulsed in her palm, dangerous yet contained.

“This is a true test,” she said. “If you can purify this, then you’ve mastered saintess magic.”

Mors eyed the dark energy warily but didn’t hesitate. He lifted Elsienflora, channeling a prayer through its blade.

A golden glow enveloped the weapon, growing brighter as he focused his intent. Then, with a single, fluid motion, he sliced through the orb of darkness.

The moment the sword touched the magic, a burst of radiant energy erupted between them.

Athena shielded her eyes as the darkness was instantly absorbed and converted into harmless light, dispersing into the wind like embers.

Silence followed.

Then Mors smirked. “I think that counts as mastery.”

Athena chuckled, lowering her hand. “Not bad, Mors. Not bad at all.”

The two of them stood there, gazing at each other, realization settling between them. They had awakened something ancient within themselves, something powerful.

They were no longer just Athena and Mors. They were the reincarnations of Devancier and Alishiera, wielders of a forgotten strength.

And they were ready for whatever lay ahead.

–

The royal summons arrived at dawn, its golden seal pressed against the crisp parchment like an unyielding decree of fate.

Mors read it in silence, his grip tightening on the letter as the weight of responsibility settled upon his shoulders. The empire was under threat.

The frontline had become unstable, with demonic beasts swarming in waves, their numbers swelling with each passing night.

A beast tide was forming, an inevitable surge of chaos and destruction.

As the crown prince, it was his duty to stand at the vanguard, to lead the empire’s forces and drive back the darkness before it devoured everything in its path.

Athena watched him from across the chamber, her emerald eyes sharp with understanding. She didn’t need to ask what the letter contained, she already knew.

The tension in the air, the silent resolve in Mors’ stance, the way his breath steadied as he prepared to march toward battle, it was all too familiar.

She crossed the room in slow, deliberate steps, reaching out to take the letter from his hands.

She scanned its contents, lips pressing into a thin line before she folded the parchment and set it aside. “Then I’m going with you,” she declared.

Mors turned to face her fully. “Athena…”

“We just got married,” she interrupted smoothly, tilting her head with feigned innocence. “It would be cruel to separate a newlywed couple, don’t you think? What would the nobles say?”

His brow twitched. “You’re using that as an excuse?”

She smiled. “Absolutely.”

Mors sighed, but he couldn’t argue. Athena was as stubborn as she was cunning, and deep down, he didn’t want to leave her behind either.

He knew she was more than capable, she had trained with him, fought alongside him, and proved time and again that she was his equal in both strength and intellect.

If she wanted to accompany him, there was little he could do to dissuade her. So they departed together.

The journey to the battlefield was long and arduous. The further they traveled from the capital, the more evident the chaos became.

The land itself bore the scars of battle, scorched earth, shattered trees, and remnants of broken weapons littering the ground.

The air was thick with the metallic scent of blood, and in the distance, plumes of smoke curled toward the sky like silent cries for help.

When they arrived at the frontline, the soldiers greeted Mors with reverence, their gazes flickering with a mixture of hope and desperation.

The presence of their crown prince emboldened them, a living symbol of the empire’s strength.

But when they saw Athena beside him, wielding the legendary sword Arthivian, whispers spread like wildfire.

“The Saintess’ blade…”

“Did they exchange swords?”

“They say the swords only choose their masters…”

Athena ignored the murmurs, her focus shifting to the battlefield beyond the fortress walls.

The demonic beasts prowled in the distance, their glowing eyes piercing through the darkness like hungry embers.

Some resembled monstrous wolves, their fur matted with the blood of their victims. Others bore reptilian scales, their elongated bodies slithering across the land like living nightmares.

And then there were those that defied explanation, creatures with too many limbs, too many mouths, their forms grotesque and twisted by dark magic.