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

Chapter-71 Yurnawa [Part-II]



Two nights later.

The sea of a meter long centipedes crawled around Ewan and Nana, trapping them on top of a debris pile. The rhythmic clacks of their endless legs rolled in every direction, their whirs leading it. Ewan could neither pinpoint their location nor could he estimate their numbers.

“Yurnawa again….something’s off,” he murmured. Nana clutched his t-shirt, almost hugging him. Her arms and legs trembled, and her breath was erratic as she looked around at the creeping menaces.

“S-Should we run?” she asked in a whisper.

“We’re fenced,” Ewan said, bringing out Frost and Orange with his ‘Dekoth’, the aura of frigid ice and scorching fire clashing against each other. “Bring out Luna and Biscuit, keep Lime in. And throw that wolf to the side, we can't protect it.”

She had the wolf in her arms and cuddled her harder. “I’ll protect her,” she said under her breath.

Ewan clicked his tongue. “Fine, just bring out your Astylinds,” he said.

She opened her Dekoth, and a bird flapped her wings out with a breath of water, chilling and calm, landing on her shoulder. A ‘stone’ hovered out of another Dekoth, bringing with it the weight of the earth.

“Handle defense. I’ll attack,” he said.

His Ryvia was ready, and so were his vanguards.

Ice Dagger!

He cast as his Astylinds launched. Frost froze the two nearest centipedes with a wave of his hand while Orange hammered and crushed the third one.

Go all out.

Bloodlust!

His daggers fanned out, and he cast <Bloodlust> on both Frost and Orange. Blood veins marred their eyes, deep growls grinded in their throats; Anima gushed around them. Insanity with obedience, the strange combination had always intrigued Ewan, but this wasn’t the right time for research.

Frost jumped and soared in the air; Ewan held him high with his Ryvia.

“Make it rain,” he muttered.

Frost spread his arms and conjured dozens of small icicles, and a moment later, he waved. The icicles hailed down on the centipedes, pelting them, skewering them, the resounding volley drowning their deathly screams.  

Orange picked the other side; Ewan supported him at the same time. Platform after platform, Orange blasted from one to the other, crushing one centipede after another, his fur drenched in blood. The booms resonated; his orange figure flashed under the curtain of the moonlight.

Yet, more centipedes kept crawling in, some from afar, some from under the rubble. His two Astylinds could only cover two sides, the other two were open.

Toast….

The little kitten came out of his wheel tattoo and looked back at Ewan, his beady eyes asking for mercy.

“I’ll go with you,” Ewan tried to placate him. Melee wasn’t his forte and it wasn’t his preference, even after the changes that his merged soul brought, but a special occasion called for a special reply. His spell arsenal was neither big enough nor resourceful enough to last him a taxing fight yet, he had to go melee until it could.

And so, he sent the daggers to one side, while he and Toast took another, albeit he had to drag the kitten with him. He might not have any combat qualifications, but he was still at the fourth awakening like Ewan. It was enough to deal with these low-level centipedes, even with their large numbers.

The battle tested the limits of his concentration and focus as he dove into the skirmish with his Obsidian Dagger, controlling the other three sides at the same time too.

He stabbed the first, dodged the second, flipped on his hand, shanked another. His agility saw him through the heat of the fight, amidst the centipedes. Toast had shaken off his laziness already and supported him from behind. Any centipede Ewan missed, Toast either clobbered and mashed their heads, severed them with his sharp claws, or ripped them apart with his fangs.

Because of the nature of the enemy, Ewan’s battle stance remained low, as he sliced, tore, and knifed the centipedes. The thick smell of iron was getting to his head, every inch of his body was screaming with excitement. He kicked one, another bit his calf. The stab on its head splattered blood all over Ewan’s face. He licked it, it tasted sour.

Poison….

He spat it out and shook his leg to get the dead centipede off. Toast hissed and bit one that came at Ewan from behind, he rattled his head violently and mauled it apart.

“Don’t drink the blood.” Ewan reminded Toast as they shared the likeness for it, rushing to another centipede, still attending to his daggers, still creating platforms for Orange, and still supporting Frost with his Ryvia.

…….

Ewan, Frost, Orange, and Toast, all sprawled on the rubble pile, a sea of centipede corpses surrounded them—withering corpses. Wounded, tired, panting, bleeding, and poisoned, none of them moved even a finger, only their chests heaved. Luna and Iris made rounds on them, casting their healing spell, while Nana ransacked her Spellbook.

“Stop looking. Even if you find any, you won’t be able to cast it right away,” Ewan said, gulping, wetting his dry itchy throat.

“I can try,” she said.

Ewan shook his head and let her be. If it gave her some peace of mind, there was no harm in it. Even if she failed, she could try again.

“Who’s good to go now?” he asked. Toast, Frost, and Orange, the three flinched at his words and fell still and silent, not daring to twitch.

“Toast?”

The kitten trembled, it jumped after a second and screeched at Ewan.

“Good, you look healthy enough, go gather the cores.”


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