Asheva: A Summoner’s Tale – [Book-2 Complete]

Chapter-143 Rainwald Finnegan



Fireflies!

Ewan armed a few patches of area in the man’s path and held his breath, his heartbeat dimming with softer thumps. After the initial disruption of Anima, the armed areas settled down, waiting for their prey. The spell had killed the man once, the same could kill him again, he betted. Even if it couldn’t, it could at least steal the initiative for him in the battle to follow.

The man trekked through the forest, looking around and over his shoulders, also erasing his traces as he walked. He ruffled the chopped vines, he scattered the broken twigs afar, and he swept the footprints. His precautions didn’t match the tracks Ewan found when coming here. So, it was either the man’s companions who were careless, or the injured burden on the way back forced him to prioritize.

Live and learn, the man’s careful actions prompted Ewan to opt for the same in the future. His hike to the cave left a trail of breadcrumbs, such a clumsy miss could hamper all his plans. He would lose the cave and worsen his situation in Drarith if Kiev or his men found this place.

Amidst his reflections, the man reached the first armed patch—within Ewan’s offensive range—and his steps halted. He stared at the ground before him, stilled where he stood, and his eyes wavered with a slight frown. A few breaths of quietude later, Ewan sighed—the armed spells were a failure, the man noticed them.

Blood Stasis!

He aimed and cast, covering the area around the man with his spell. The ruse was up, there was no point in hiding anymore. The man jerked back, glancing at Ewan. With slithering and crackling lightning on his body, he flashed away from the red-tinted ground before a single thread could graze him.  

Ewan lifted his brows in sheer surprise, even this spell failed. Was this the same man he killed back then, or did he just wear the same face? It hadn’t been long, and he grew strong enough to notice the faint disturbance from his spells.

“It really is you,” the man said. “I’ve been wanting to meet you again. You owe me a lot of sleepless nights.”

“I appreciate your obsession, but I must apologize, I like women,” Ewan said and walked out of the shadows.

Firedust!

He cast, and the fiery tangerine dust permeated the targeted area, searing the greens, the foliage and the vines smoldered in their wake.

“I’m Rainwald Finnegan, Rain for short,” he said, zipping away again, leaving a trail of lavender lightning snakes. “May I know your name?”

“I’d rather you tell me how you survived?” Ewan asked.

Fireball!

He hurled a few and Rain darted around, dodging the blasts. The innocent bystanders—the trees—exploded from the strayed impact, burned and crackled.  

“Your pieces should be decaying on the battlefield right now,” Ewan said.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Rain said and aimed at Ewan. Lavender lightning arced around his hand and with a flickering magic circle, a thundering bolt zoomed away. “Pry my secrets from my dead body, if you can kill me.”

Ice Wall!

Ewan concentrated a part of his Ryvia before him, his Varos ready, and defended against the spell. The bolt thundered at him, shattering the ice wall, rending his Ryvia, and hammered his Varos before dispersing around into cracking arcs. His modified design of Tigog Acrix, the earthen glass, stood tall and protected him with only a scorched section that recovered the next moment.

Ice Daggers!

He cast and the spell boosted his Ryvia, a dozen daggers hovering around him.

“I told you my name, will you really not tell me yours?” Rain said, aiming for Ewan again with a barrage of lightning whips—they crackled, and sundered the air. He flashed around, threading through the trees, and cast again, never remaining in one place.

Blood Rein!

Ewan slit his wrist with an ice dagger, used his blood for the spell, and pressed the wound to assist his natural recovery. “Let it remain a mystery,” he said, converging all his enhanced Ryvia against the attacks, and anchored down with his Varos and the concaved blood wall protecting him.

The whips belted him, one after another, crackling and sizzling. They smashed the initial defenses, the blood wall splattered, but couldn’t get past his dense Ryvia—it smothered the attacks on their way. The air in the surroundings heated up though, the resulting mirage twisted his vision. Ewan swirled the wind around him and dissipated the heat, clearing his sight.

“Petty,” Rain said and hurled another lightning bolt.

“Don’t be so hasty,” Ewan said, sending the daggers away towards Rain, zipping through the trees. “Let’s take our time.”

Fireflies!

His established defenses protected him, the blood blob gathered again and was ready for his command, while he cast <Fireflies> and armed several patches in Rain’s path.

“Ugh! This again!” Rain exclaimed and slowed down; his steps became much more careful as he sniffed before his footfall. The combination of <Fireflies> and <Ice Daggers> cornered him. “Why do you have so many spells, dammit! Are you one of those new Pathfinders?” he asked and brought out his Lightning Falcon.

It used to be Grade-B, but now it stood at ‘A’. And with a war cry, it shot out of Dekoth, beyond the tree crowns and into the sky, its sharp peal declaring its dominance in the air.

Pathfinder?

“Maybe, maybe not, does it matter? It won't change your end anyway,” Ewan said and brought out his ‘Moonkeeper’, it floated above his palm.

Phantasm!

He cast, and luckily, succeeded on the first try. The spell circuit glimmered in his soul space and livened up, almost emptying the crystal ball when it took effect. Two Dekoths opened before Ewan, one frigid while the other blistered, and Frost and Orange strutted out.

Frost, in his Ice Monkey form, guarded Ewan with his taut tail and stern eyes, ready with his spells. And Orange glared at the Lightning Falcon cruising in the sky, Fire-Anima surging around his tiny, clenched fists.

Rain sniggered. “You don’t know what a ‘Pathfinder’ is, do you?”

Ewan frowned; his nostrils flared. That high-pitched cackle pricked his nerves, the mere sound of it annoyed him. The condescending tone worsened it further.

Fireball!

He took note of his fluctuating impulses and emotions and catapulted the fireball with a deep grunt. The target didn’t matter, the damage didn’t matter, the accuracy mattered even less. It erupted far from Rain, not even the heat brushed him. But with that blast, Ewan exhausted his compulsion and regained his calm. The eruption burnt away his chagrin.

“I really don’t know what it is, can you enlighten me?” he asked. “Or should I ask that to your dead body too?”


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