Re: Tales of the Rune-Tech Sage Chapter 687: Fall From Grace

[Third Step – Wraith’s Crossing]!

Alex rushed toward the mountainside where the Divine Dragon had detonated.

One might have expected Peyton’s body to be completely obliterated, given that he had been at the epicentre of the blast.

However, that was not the case.

Aided by his Truth-Seeker Eyes, Alex had already spotted something hurtling into the mountainside in the aftermath of the explosion.

What he found was none other than Brock Peyton.

The man was barely recognisable. His face and limbs were horribly scorched, flesh charred and broken—yet somehow, he clung to life... if only by the faintest thread.

He was incapable of moving on his own.

Alex’s gaze shifted to the man’s armour.

Despite everything, it remained largely intact. Once the soot was cleared, it would require only a modest amount of repair and refitting to be usable once more.

Without ceremony, Alex began stripping the dying man of his armour.

He could have ended Peyton’s life beforehand.

But he chose not to.

It was a silent fulfilment of the words he had spoken during their failed meeting.

As he had promised, he would tear down everything Peyton had built... and strip him of everything he possessed—down to the very armour on his body.

A faint chuckle escaped Alex’s lips as a dark thought crossed his mind.

’It’s fortunate the earlier attacks burned away his clothes... otherwise, I might have had to take even his undergarments.’

Once the armour was removed, Alex met Peyton’s eyes.

The man’s internal organs were most likely ravaged beyond recovery. He could not speak—only stare, silently pleading for release.

Calm madness!

Alex shook his head.

"Killing you would be a mercy you do not deserve," he said coldly. "How many people have begged you for mercy in your life? And how many did you grant it to?

"Now... it is your turn to stand on the receiving end of the cruelty."

Alex watched without expression as Peyton struggled through his final, agonising breaths.

He remained still and silent, observing as the man’s life slowly ebbed away.

Yet even after death came—

It was not over.

Shing!

The wrist blade extended from the Beta Brace.

Grasping Peyton’s corpse by what little hair remained on his head, Alex drove the blade upward through the man’s chin.

If, by some miracle, any trace of life had remained—

It was extinguished in that instant.

Without pause, Alex completed the act by severing the head from the body.

This was not done out of sadistic inclination, but rather for a pragmatic reason—one dictated by the brutal realities of life in the Wildlands.

Once he had secured the severed head, Alex turned his attention back to the battlefield.

Zora, Udara, Fen, and Senu had all made their move.

Zora, mounted atop Dread, had effectively transformed into a mobile spell-firing platform, providing constant support to Udara as she engaged the one-eyed Lost Heathen vice-leader.

The battle ended with the man’s capture—or more accurately, his surrender.

Elsewhere, Fen and Senu assisted the captain of the Drumvale reinforcements in bringing down the final Lost Heathen Combat Master.

The man, apparently enraged by Drumvale’s betrayal, had chosen to fight to the death against the captain.

Left with no alternative, he was swiftly put down.

With all their Combat Masters slain, their vice-leader captured, and their leader dead, the remaining Lost Heathens rapidly lost their will to fight.

It was not as though they had ever been bound by loyalty in the first place. They had joined for profit. And now, with those who were meant to pay them either dead or captured, they had no reason to continue risking their lives.

"Are you alright?" his wives asked as he returned.

"I’m fine," Alex replied with a reassuring smile.

"Here, take this." He handed the piece of leather armour to Udara.

"Master?" Udara tilted her head in confusion.

"I’m not certain how Peyton came into possession of it, but this appears to be a true sorcerer’s armour—roughly Tier IV by our standards. It carries anti-magic properties, and it withstood a considerable number of Grade 8 spells from me without being destroyed. It should help protect you when traversing the Shadow Realm," Alex explained, listing the armour’s key attributes.

Udara’s [Shadow Dash]—despite its apparent teleportation effect—was in truth a darkness-aligned movement technique that utilised natural shortcuts through the Shadow Realm.

However, while most mages were aware of this realm and its advantages, few ever dared to make extensive use of it. Travelling through the Shadow Realm came with inherent risks.

At the very least, one required a sufficiently resilient body to withstand the strain of passing through it.

Alex had been somewhat reassured by Udara’s exceptionally high—bordering on absurd—affinity for darkness. Even so, he could not help but worry from time to time.

Considering the frequency with which she had been using the ability since her arrival in Verdantis, Alex was determined to make use of the newfound method to lessen the associated risks.

"Take it," Eleanore offered with encouragement. Udara nodded, accepting the armor from Alex. This piece was far too precious to be left unworn, and Udara was uniquely capable of wielding it effectively among their group. Its anti-magic properties would impede Eleanore’s and Zora’s spellcasting, rendering it unsuitable for them.

Their focus then turned to the captured vice-leader of the Lost Heathens. "What should we do with him, Master?" Udara inquired, her blade already drawn and ready should Alex issue the command.

Alex shook his head, playfully pinching her nose. "Sheathe your blade. There's no need to dirty your hands with this," he instructed. Udara blushed slightly and stepped back. Alex then summoned Kavakan. "Keep an eye on him. We'll hand him over to Raven Horn—I'm sure they'll want the information he possesses," Alex directed. "Understood, Boss," Kavakan replied with a nod.

"It appears you managed to persuade Lady Wintermere after all. Your tongue remains your most formidable weapon," Zora commented, patting his shoulder like a proud mother hen, eliciting a wry smile from Alex. "However, it's still somewhat unsettling that her pledge of allegiance manifested as a betrayal," she added.

"Well, in fairness, I didn't leave her with many viable alternatives. She likely felt this was the least she could do to comply," Alex responded calmly. "I'll go converse with the captain of the reinforcements. Inform the others that we'll be departing shortly." Alex approached the captain of the Drumvale reinforcement company and engaged in a brief, courteous exchange. Once their discussion was concluded, and with confirmation that his soldiers were adequately rested, the captain signaled his unit to advance.

Alex observed his departure with a knowing smile. It was evident the man harbored no desire to travel with a group he neither knew nor trusted. Alex raised no objections, instead opting to wait a couple of hours before leading the Fortuna Company forward. They entered BloodIron long after dusk had fallen. Nevertheless, their arrival drew significant attention from many within the city's lower and middle tiers.

That attention surged when Kavakan took it upon himself to affix the severed heads of the fallen Lost Heathen Combat Masters to the gates of the Fortuna estate. Brock Peyton’s head, in particular, was prominently displayed—positioned at the apex of the gate arch, impossible to overlook. By the following morning, news regarding the confrontation between the Fortuna Company and the Lost Heathens had permeated the entirety of the city.

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