NOVPUBChapter 216: Aftermath
The two stared at each other, neither making a move.
Ben’s aura pulsed as he continued to gather energy into the black halo above his pickaxe. He wasn’t ready to strike yet, not until he could make it count.
Apophis, meanwhile, stood silently deep in thought.
‘It’ll be fun,’ she mused, ‘watching him meet the others.’
Then her lips curled into a smile.
She raised her hand, summoned her dark sword, and dashed toward him in a flash.
Ben clicked his tongue. ‘Still not ready.’ He lifted his pickaxe instinctively, preparing to clash.
But the moment their weapons touched, The world dissolved.
The battlefield, the smoke, the void around them, all vanished like mist.
His pickaxe passed harmlessly through her form. She was already fading, her body unraveling into darkness.
Only her voice remained, soft and distant,
“We’ll meet again, Ben.”
And then, silence.
The ruined space gone. His feet now rested on solid, real ground. “Dammit,” he muttered, lowering the pickaxe.
Part of him was relieved. He needed to recover. A real fight now would’ve been suicidal.
But then why the performance? Why come like she meant to kill, only to vanish?
The answer was obvious.
“She did it just to annoy me,” he said under his breath, scowling.
He reached inward. Her soul was still there. But now, he couldn’t touch it. Couldn’t speak to it. Couldn’t do anything with it.
The barrier she’d left was still intact. ‘Hope Elvira can tear this thing apart,’ he thought grimly.
Then A voice, rough with confusion but sharp with suspicion, called out behind him.
“Who are you?”
Ben’s head snapped around. Just up the slope, half-shrouded by smoke and scattered rubble, stood the Nephirid expedition, or what was left of it.
Half of them were down, slumped against rocks or the canyon wall, unconscious or barely conscious. The rest were injured, bloodied, weapons still clutched tight in shaky hands, eyes sweeping the area in high alert.
Their armor was scorched. One of the younger fighters had a splintered spear shaft embedded in her thigh. Another limped forward with a bloodied bandage wrapped hastily around his head.
But they were alive, and all of them were staring at Ben like they didn’t recognize him.
One of them, Kaela, stepped forward, her voice low and cold.
“Who are you?” she asked again, more forcefully this time. “You’re not Nephirid. You don’t look like any species I know.”
Tharn narrowed his eyes, resting his spear across his shoulder.
“Hm… he looks familiar,” he muttered. “Like the ones I saw in that old mural. What were they called again?”
Another Nephirid, older, voice dry, answered before Tharn could remember.
“Your memory’s slipping, Tharn. Human. That’s what they were called.
The creator… the ones who made us all.”
The word hung heavy in the air. Human.
The moment it was spoken, the entire group went still. Eyes narrowed. Bodies tensed.
One by one, the Nephirid turned their full attention to Ben. And in their gaze, challenge.
Every one of them looked like they wanted to challenge him. To see if the old myths was true.
Ben froze. His lips twitched as he let out a silent curse. ‘Nyx… I swear, I will beat you up.’
He was grateful they were alive. Grateful they had survived the ambush.
But this? He doesn’t want them to find out.
Ben exhaled through his nose, stepped forward, and slowly raised a hand.
“Come get it.”
The first Nephirid, a younger warrior with twin daggers, come forward without hesitation. Fast, clean form. Good footwork. But predictable.
Ben sidestepped, grabbed the girl’s wrist mid-strike, and used her own momentum to fling her over his shoulder. She slammed into the ground with a dull thud.
“Your center of gravity’s too high,” Ben said calmly. “Fix your stance before someone shatters your spine.”
Another came from the left, spear raised, roaring. Ben ducked under the thrust, slammed a fist into the attacker’s ribs, then chopped the back of his neck with the edge of his hand.
The man crumpled like wet cloth.
“You lead with the wrong foot,” Ben added. “You’re telegraphing every move.”
A third charged with a hammer, bellowing fury. Ben blinked forward, vanished, then reappeared behind him, grabbing the back of the man’s collar and slamming him headfirst into the stone floor.
CRACK.
The hammer dropped. The warrior didn’t rise.
“Too slow.”
A fourth swung a blade wide, aiming to catch Ben off-balance.
Ben caught the blade with the crook of his elbow, twisted, and planted his foot in the man’s gut, launching him backward into two more Nephirid.
All three went down.
“Don’t waste energy on flourish. Kill fast or die faster.”
Kaela leapt in next, blades in hand, no hesitation. Her expression was locked between suspicion and respect.
Ben parried her first strike, countered her second, and knocked one of her daggers out of her hand with a flick of his wrist.
She spun into a low sweep.
He hopped over it and caught her in a chokehold from behind. Then throw her to the ground.
“Better,” he said quietly. “You’re learning.”
She glared but didn’t get up again.
Another tried to flank him, Ben turned and grabbed the attacker mid-leap, flipping him midair and slamming him into the canyon wall. Dust exploded on impact.
“Anyone else?”
The last three hesitated.
Ben didn’t. He blurred forward, knocking them each out with surgical strikes, no wasted motion.
When the dust settled, Every Nephirid was on the ground. All of them knocked down.
Ben stood in the center, breathing steady.
“They’re strong,” he said flatly. “Physically. But strength without technique won’t help you against true powerhouse.”
He turned from the field of sprawled warriors, his form begin to shift.
In moments, his features, replaced once more by the familiar face of City Lord Tzarek. His frame adjusted. He drew the twin daggers from his belt and sat down on a nearby stone, resting one across his knee.
Then, he waited. Ben had already crafted the story he’d feed them.
It was an illusion. A hallucination brought on by whatever magic lingered in the sealed grounds.
The human they saw? Just a shared delusion. Nothing more.
He let his eyes drift to the horizon, the landscape stretching toward the unknown.
‘If Apophis was sealed here… Then she wasn’t the only one. There are other daemons out there. Maybe worse.’
His eyes narrowed.
‘And where the hell are you… knight?’
