ALL NOVEL Chapter-159 The Last Draw
The morning bells didn’t ring anymore.
Impulsive actions provided exhilaration in the moment, however, the price to pay for it was steep. Even though it was through deceit and deception, Nobert and the Paladins were the heroes of Drarith. The Ensils and the Ashevas might see the ploy behind the raids, the conspiracy cooking beneath, but the Kyrons of the city didn’t have that leeway, and they didn’t care. They fought despair each day, struggled to stay alive, so they revered any helping hand that reached out to them. Not to mention the church of smiles not only extended a helping hand but also gave them hope to touch the peak they could never grasp otherwise—the power to rival the Ashevas.
And so, unless the Ensils planned to wipe the populace, winning over the people’s heart would become a crucial checkpoint—and Kiev’s kill impeded his family’s chances before the fight even began.
The war halted, the raids ended for good, yet the silent criticism accompanying the bouts of drunken revolts washed over the city. Sanity usually reigned in their grievances, but with alcohol chipping down their inhibitions, they spoke up and fought back. Though the external matters had gained peace, the internal conflicts raged for Drarith. And it kept the Ensils busy.
Ewan, on the other hand, maintained his undisturbed routine; the protective fog shielding him from the chaotic evenings and the eventful nights. Except for when paying his share for the slaves and patrolling the cave, he kept his doors closed—only Kidd, Walyn, and his Astylinds accompanied his passing days.
His research on the mystic rune and the mystic blood continued. His studies of the spells progressed. The sales of his potions seesawed. The practice of his Varos at a lower than its critical temperature bore fruit. And his fight with Rain evolved.
Each battle showed drastic changes in their strategies, and they both strived to outwit the other. When Ewan shut down Rain’s lightning spells, Rain ruined his <Fireflies>; when Rain upgraded his knives beyond Ewan’s expectation, Ewan crushed him with his threading spells; when Ewan tried to blast him with his <Boom>, Rain exploded with a movement spell; and when Rain cornered him with his speed, Ewan erupted with his new Ryvia based spell—<Repulse>.
Yet, even after weeks of back and forth, they yielded no conclusion, and at the end of every battle, some random person died. The distortion around Rain hinted towards a teleportation-type spell. It was far out of reach of a Step-0 Severynth, but Rain still realized it. Ewan worked on its counters, but with his current access to knowledge and his Anima pool, he could only come up with a crude method. And so, he strained his spirit and body and domed Rain with crammed Mystic-Anima, hindering his usage of any other Anima for the teleportation spell. However, all that resulted in was a Rain substituting his death with a smug smile, leaving Ewan with a twitching nostril and bleeding eyes—the dome of Mystic-Anima didn’t even obstruct him, let alone stopping his spell.
A week after that, they fought their last battle, and they tied again.
“I won't come here anymore, the cave is yours,” Rain said, blood dripping down his arms. “I’m going to create my own group and join some expeditions when I become Step-1, I hope to see you out there too. Farewell, my rival, let’s continue our fight when we meet.” He left the words behind, and with another person’s death, Ewan never saw him again.
His departure brewed a hint of melancholy in Ewan’s heart, and he felt down for days. Weeks of battles against the man pushed him to his edge; it tested his wit, his spirit, his body, and his knowledge to their limits. And in the course of the conflict, he got used to Rain’s presence and started having fun.
Nevertheless, his life continued, and he pushed the thought to the back of his mind—after all, like the man said, they shall meet again.
…..
“Master, I’ve succeeded,” Kidd said, kneeling behind Ewan in the yard, his right fist punching the nicely trimmed grass. “I completed your command to the word.”
Ewan facepalmed himself and sighed, lying on the recliner facing the ocean. “Just tell me, how much did he ask for?”
“Two thousand, my liege,” Kidd said, adjusting the mask that was about to slip.
“Two thousand?” Ewan questioned in alarm. “For a rundown ship like that?”
“Punish me, my lord.” Kidd punched the grass again and lowered his head. “The wicked man smelled my desperation, he found out I was in a hurry,” he said. “I’ve let my lord down.”
“Forget it,” Ewan said. “We don’t need it that soon to pay two thousand for it. Look for another ship.”
“Yes, master!”
“Will you stop doing that already, its tiring and annoying.”
“Yes, Boss. Ah, no, I mean my lord!”
Ewan sighed again, feeling the strength escaping his shoulders. “Just go do your thing,” he said and shooed him away.
Drarith’s internal state of affairs had worsened by the day, and the intrigues colliding in the background appeared on the front stage—the church of smiles confronted the Ensils out in the open. The Ensils fought with their long reign, their established name, their own and their recruited Ashevas, while the church of smiles used the Kyrons, their misery, and the moral high ground to retaliate. The Ensils commanded the elite, while the church ruled over the numbers, and it affected the city as a whole.
Businesses shut down, merchants lost their fortune, establishments emptied out, venues changed hands, and a hint of rebellion fermented in the air.
The deteriorating situation urged Ewan to leave the city, but he still had some leeway to look for a better deal for the ship—he couldn’t splurge his hard-earned Novas for a ship that couldn’t go ten miles without pulling a leak.
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