Chapter 543: Scathach (Part. I)
Strax remained kneeling, pressing down on the bloody stump of his lost arm. The pain was excruciating, but it wasn’t what kept him stunned.
It was her.
The figure of Scathach still echoed in his mind—not as an enemy, but as a screaming void. Something inside him—something older than his memories, deeper than his very essence—cried out for her.
His mother.
Even though he had never known her face, even though he had been born into another reality, he loved her. As if that love had been tattooed on the soul of every version of Strax throughout time. He couldn’t explain it, but he felt it. He felt it like a heat that now burned more than physical pain. And it was being torn away — along with his arm — by the desecrated presence of the one who was once Scathach Antares.
The woman who was supposed to protect him.
The air in front of him rippled, breaking the suffocating silence of the chamber.
Scarlet.
She advanced slowly, but her eyes burned like embers. Her breathing was uneven, her expression a mixture of shock and fury. With a fluid gesture, a spear appeared in her hand—made entirely of living fire, flames compressed into pure destruction. The weapon’s aura trembled with power, responding to the growing rage within her.
But even there, even engulfed in flames, Scarlet hesitated for a moment.
Scathach was her apprentice.
She herself had guided her, shaped her, taught her the runes, the sword, the control of her own soul. Scarlet was not just the ancient vampire warrior, Strax’s lover. She was the archmage of war. And now she faced... her own creation.
"You..." she murmured, her voice trembling with indignation. "You were my student..."
The crater where Scathach had crashed split in half with a dull thud.
And from it emerged the figure of a naked woman, wet, marked with blood and runes—her aura completely darkened. Her green eyes shone brightly, but... there was something missing in them. As if every emotion had been burned away to make room for obedience to a strange purpose.
For a second, she looked at Scarlet with something that seemed like... confusion. Pain? But that disappeared in the blink of an eye, swallowed by an invisible veil that wiped any trace of humanity from her face.
She moved.
Fast.
Like the sound of a blade being unsheathed at the speed of thought, Scathach charged.
Scarlet only had time to raise her spear and cross her arms in defense. Scathach’s sword collided with the spear of fire, and the impact was catastrophic.
A white flash blinded the room. The floor split beneath their feet. The runes carved around the chamber exploded with the shock of the collision, sending sparks of pure draconic magic flying.
Strax rolled to the side, still stunned, covering his eyes with his remaining hand.
Ouroboros screamed, "THEY’RE GOING TO TEAR DOWN THE TEMPLE!"
But no one could stop them now.
Scarlet spun, dodging Scathach’s next attack, her spear curving like a living snake. She launched a counterattack, and a flaming wave shot out from the impact, tearing through half the wall behind them. The stone screamed, cracked, shook.
Scathach, however, did not retreat. She leaped over the wave, spinning with her sword, and tried to cut Scarlet from the side.
Defense. Counterattack. Explosion.
They weren’t fighting tactically—they were colliding with full force, a clash of titans. With each blow, the entire volcano shook as if a god were trying to emerge from within the earth.
Strax tried to stand up, staggering. His vision swayed. The smell of blood in his mouth made him salivate involuntarily.
But his eyes did not stray from Scathach.
This was the woman who should have held him in her lap.
Who should have said his name tenderly.
Not with a blade.
"SCARLET!" he managed to shout, even as his voice failed him. "She’s not... she’s not herself! THERE’S SOMETHING..."
"I KNOW!" she roared, spinning and firing a flaming blast that caused the ceiling above them to partially collapse. "PAY ATTENTION! WHOEVER IS CONTROLLING HER... IS NOT FAR AWAY!"
At that moment, one of the magma pillars in the chamber snapped with a crack. Scathach used the debris to propel herself, disappearing for a second into the air—then reappearing high above Scarlet with a primal scream, the sword being swung in an arc of execution.
Scarlet flapped her wings and launched herself upward.
The impact between the two collapsed the center of the chamber. The floor sank, cracking. Dust and stone flew in all directions. The two were now flying, spinning in a ballet of fury and destruction.
Spear against sword.
Master against disciple.
Scarlet roared, now without hesitation. With each spell, each spin, her expression contorted between sadness and anger. Her heart wanted to bring Scathach back—but her body knew it had to survive.
"FIGHT ME, YOU BITCH!" she screamed. "FIGHT THIS! YOU ARE NOT A WILD ANIMAL!"
But Scathach responded only with a diagonal blow that nearly tore half of Scarlet’s armor off. Blood spattered. Scarlet spun, roaring in pain, but took advantage of the opening to thrust her spear into her opponent’s abdomen. The spear burned her flesh with the heat of a thousand suns, but she did not scream.
She smiled.
It was an empty smile. Frightening. Mechanical.
Scarlet recoiled, her face contorted with horror.
"This isn’t... this isn’t just control. This is..." She gasped. "This is CORRUPTION."
Tiamat and Ouroboros positioned themselves on either side, ready to intervene.
Strax, on his knees, panting, his body shaking, watched everything. And something inside him finally broke...
The ground shook beneath Strax’s knees, but it wasn’t because of the titanic struggles around him—it was him.
For the first time since the battle began, all the energy contained within his body—draconic magic, pent-up rage, repressed love—converged on a single purpose.
To restore.
He closed his eyes. A silent roar vibrated in his throat. The runes on his body—hidden beneath his skin, buried in his bloodline of gods and dragons—lit up like living embers. Pure energy burst from him like a reverse eruption.
In a millisecond, his right arm—previously torn off—reappeared, tissue after tissue, bone after bone, flesh and veins intertwining with violence and perfection.
In the next second...
He disappeared.
And reappeared.
In front of Scathach.
She was in mid-flight, about to strike Scarlet again when her movement was brutally interrupted. Strax’s hand was on her throat, firm as the claw of a god.
The impact of his appearance in the air created such a powerful shockwave that Scarlet’s flames were swept away for an instant, and even the surrounding magma receded as if the earth itself had held its breath.
Scathach’s eyes widened. For the first time... a glimpse. A tremor.
And then he spoke.
His voice was low, hoarse, but so full of power that it seemed to echo in the very stones of the volcano:
"Come here, you son of a bitch. Don’t you dare control my mother."