My Sister Stole My Mate, And I Let Her Chapter 486 ENDLESS NUMBERS

SERAPHINA’S POV

Together, we stepped through.

The barrier sealed behind us, and for a suspended instant, the world ceased to exist. No beach lay behind us, no vast ocean, no warm sun.

A chilling darkness scraped against my skin, seeking a way in. My silver markings on my back flared fiercely in response.

Then, we emerged on the other side.

Sound flooded back into existence.

The crashing of waves. The whistling wind. The thud of boots on damp sand as the initial wave of warriors followed us through.

We had arrived on Catherine’s island.

The former beauty had vanished, but not from the natural scenery. Palm trees still swayed gracefully. The water still shimmered invitingly. The pristine white sand still curved in a gentle arc along the shoreline.

Yet, a sense of wrongness permeated everything beneath the surface.

The air was heavy with an overly sweet scent, akin to flowers left too long in a stifling, sealed space. The birds remained silent. The trees swayed unnaturally, even though a wind was present.

Every shadow cast beneath the dense foliage seemed unnaturally deep, and in the distance, the estate perched on the ridge gleamed with a cold, polished elegance.

Kieran released my hand, only to move closer, his presence a comforting shield beside me.

Behind us, the portal shimmered faintly, maintained by Alois, Corin, and the others who remained on the other side.

Suddenly, the sand began to shift.

I froze, my senses on high alert.

Kieran’s head turned slightly, his gaze following mine.

All around us, the tree line stirred.

A single figure emerged first.

Then another followed.

Soon, dozens appeared.

“Here we go,” Kieran whispered, his voice low and steady.

Rogues materialized from the foliage with unsettling silence, their eyes burning with a feral, malicious glint.

Some clutched crude weapons. Others revealed sharp claws. A few displayed the undeniable marks of Catherine’s dark manipulations—veins of black snaking beneath their skin, scars too precise to be natural, and eyes that reflected light with an unnatural, predatory gleam.

Then, the puppets advanced.

They emerged from behind the rogues with an eerie stillness, their faces bearing resemblances to people who might once have been alive.

They appeared almost human until they moved, at which point their grotesque unnaturalness became glaringly obvious.

Their expressions lagged disturbingly behind their bodily movements. Their eyes were utterly vacant.

Ethereal threads of dark magic bound them, like invisible leashes, and beneath these restraints, I sensed the faint echoes of shattered souls.

A warrior standing behind me uttered a quiet curse.

The trees continued to yield more of them.

More rogues. More puppets. An overwhelming number.

Far too many to have assembled by mere coincidence. They had been anticipating our arrival, lying in wait.

Kieran’s immense power surged outwards, a dark and commanding force, and every allied warrior behind us seamlessly shifted into a defensive formation with practiced, efficient movements.

My gaze swept over the faces of the puppets surrounding us, a sickening twist forming in my gut.

Some of those faces seemed vaguely familiar, not from personal acquaintance, but from encounters in official reports, missing-person bulletins, or photographs spread across tables back at Nightfang.

Beside me, Kieran’s expression turned grim, his jaw tightening.

His eyes quickly scanned the approaching throng.

Then, his voice sliced through the tense silence. “Advance.”

The foremost rogue lunged from the cover of the trees with a ferocious roar.

He never came close to reaching us. Kieran moved with impossible speed before I could fully process the attack—one moment he was beside me, the next he was a blur of pure motion and overwhelming power.

Ashar surged through him with ferocious intensity, and Alpha pressure detonated outwards like a mountain succumbing to an unbearable, crushing weight.

The rogue was flung backward with such violent force that his body impacted the sand, gouging out a shallow crater upon landing.

The resulting shockwave pulsed through the assembled enemies, causing several rogues to stagger as if struck by an invisible barrier. Some stumbled to one knee, while others blinked in disoriented confusion, overwhelmed by the sheer crushing force of Kieran’s dominance.

But the puppets. They continued their relentless advance.

They showed no hesitation. They did not falter. They simply pressed forward with the same vacant, measured steps, as if utterly unaffected by the display of power.

The battlefield exploded into chaos around us as our warriors charged into the fray.

Gleaming steel flashed under the sun as our forces clashed with the first wave of enemies. Claws and sharp blades tore through the heavy silence that had blanketed the beach just moments before.

The sounds merged into a roaring tempest of movement and violent impact—bestial growls and sharp commands mingled with the ringing clang of metal, the churn of sand beneath pounding feet, and the savage snarls of wolves as bodies violently collided.

One puppet broke formation and charged directly at me.

She appeared to be in her early twenties, her dark hair framing a face marked by half-healed scars twisting cruelly along her throat.

For one agonizing heartbeat, our eyes locked, and a sharp pain seized my chest because her eyes were not entirely empty.

A flicker of something still existed within them. Something… trapped, like a desperate person struggling beneath deep, dark water.

Then, the oppressive darkness intensified around whatever remnant of her soul remained, and the discernible flicker abruptly vanished.

She lunged.

I intercepted her wrist just before her claws could reach me, twisting with enough force to audibly snap bone beneath my grip.

My free hand pressed against her chest as pure silver power flowed from my palm. The scream that erupted from her throat ripped through me with agonizing intensity.

Blackness peeled away from her skin in burning, twisting ribbons as the dark magic that had bound her together began to unravel, piece by agonizing piece.

It wasn’t enough to save her—I knew that even before I made the attempt.

So much damage had been done, her soul already fractured and devoured to such an extent, that all I could offer now was a release from suffering.

Her form slumped soundlessly onto the sand.

A sharp pain pierced my chest, reigniting my hatred for Catherine.

None of them had chosen this fate for themselves.

None of them deserved this outcome.

"I’m sorry," I uttered softly.

But grief had no place on a raging battlefield.

Three more adversaries were already advancing my way.

I evaded claws aimed at my throat, slamming my elbow into one attacker’s ribs before executing a swift spin, kicking another back with enough force to send him stumbling into the advancing ranks behind him.

Beside me, Kieran fought as if he had become the embodiment of violence itself. Every aspect of him seemed sharper, quicker, lethally so.

Ashar had fully manifested now; its presence was evident in the fiery glow of Kieran’s eyes and the terrifying elegance of his movements.

A puppet lunged, targeting his unguarded side.

Without even turning, Kieran seized it by the throat.

The motion appeared effortless as he hoisted the puppet’s body, then slammed it into another charging enemy with such impact that both crashed through two palm trees, their trunks splintering under the force.

Yet, despite the numerous foes we had vanquished, another wave surged forward to replace them.

And another followed closely behind.

And yet another after that.

They advanced with an unyielding, mechanical determination, emerging from the trees in seemingly unending numbers, like an overwhelming tide.

Oceans eventually recede, ultimately yielding to the pull of gravity and the moon, but these abominations pressed onward without pause or fatigue.

Close to my left, Brett carved through two altered rogues with savage effectiveness, blood splattering his arms as claws extended from his partially shifted hands.

He moved with a brutal precision, each strike landing perfectly, while Maris and other Seabreeze operatives flowed around him, akin to water finding fissures in solid rock.

A fresh burst of power erupted nearby.

I turned just in time to witness Kieran plunge his fist into a puppet’s chest.

The body folded inward unnaturally, but before it could even hit the ground, another puppet stepped over its fallen form, closely followed by another, pushing forward with that same relentless certainty.

My heart faltered as the full understanding struck me simultaneously.

"Kieran!"

His head snapped towards me.

"They’re just stalling us!"

The chilling realization settled in with a nauseating clarity as I surveyed the battlefield.

These enemies were never intended to defeat us. Their purpose was to impede our progress, to occupy us completely while precious time ticked away.

Even their destruction required significant effort, as Catherine’s dark magic compelled their broken bodies to continue advancing long after they should have ceased moving.

Whatever she was orchestrating, she was buying herself the time necessary to complete it.

Kieran grasped the situation instantly.

His expression darkened as another puppet closed in. He seized the creature by its skull and twisted sharply, the sickening sound of bone snapping lost amidst the cacophony of the battlefield.

"Everyone push forward!" he bellowed.

His commanding Alpha roar washed over the beach with immense power. "Break through! Ignore anything that isn’t directly in your path!"

The formation shifted instantaneously. Warriors surged ahead, tightened their ranks along the flanks, and moved to carve openings through the enemy’s line.

Our objective changed from winning the fight to simply advancing.

I channeled silver power through another puppet and surged forward alongside Kieran as bodies collided around us and sand flew beneath our pounding feet.

The estate situated above the ridge grew gradually nearer through the trees, but our progress was agonizingly slow.

A chilling premonition coursed down my spine with such suddenness that I froze, and Kieran reacted at the exact same moment beside me. He halted so abruptly that sand billowed around his boots.

The ongoing battle hadn't ceased, but the dynamics had shifted in a profoundly unsettling manner.

The rogues closest to us began to fall back, while the puppets slowed their relentless march, not in retreat, but in the creation of an open space.

Slowly, almost as if in a deliberate ceremony, a pathway started to form through the trees ahead.

Footsteps echoed across the sand, unhurried and composed amidst the surrounding chaos.

Then, a figure emerged from the shadows cast by the palm trees, clad in a sharp, dark suit, his hands resting nonchalantly in his pockets, a cruel smile stretching across his lips.

"Now this," he said smoothly, his voice cutting through the din, "is quite the entrance."