Bloody Odyssey-Chapter 40: Merlin I

Chapter 39

Above the boundless, majestic plains of Vados stretched an endless sea of golden grass swaying under a vast, cloudless sky. Six wyverns glided in loose formation, their powerful wingbeats slicing through the warm updrafts.

The wind rushed steadily past, carrying the sharp, clean scent of sun-parched grass blended with the faint, mineral tang of distant earth.

Dax stood balanced on Cain’s broad, armored back, boots planted firmly against shifting scales.

His long white hair danced and streamed behind him in graceful, untamed waves. Hands clasped loosely behind his back, he turned slowly to face his squad. He studied them one by one.

Panic was written plainly across every face: eyes wide and glassy with unease, knuckles bone-white around leather reins, breaths coming in short, shallow pulls.

Even the wyverns beneath them sensed it—their wingbeats grew hesitant, tails flicking nervously.

"Do you know why we’re here today?"

The question hung in the rushing air. No one answered. No one dared.

Dax’s lips parted slowly, ready to continue—

Then it hit him like a physical blow: a gaze, ancient and unblinking, pressing against the back of his skull from leagues away.

"Ohh..." A low sound escaped him. He turned his head outward, eyes narrowing.

Miles distant, suspended motionless above a massive pouring water fall, stood a strange middle-aged man. Rich, flowing garments—layered robes of deep indigo and silver thread—rippled around him as though caressed by an unseen wind that touched only him. His eyes, sharp and knowing, locked straight onto Dax’s.

There was no warning. No preamble.

Dax simply raised his right hand and pointed one finger.

A pinprick of perfect black appeared at the tip. In the same heartbeat the air around it screamed inward, spiraling into a violent, howling vortex. The suction was immediate and insane—grass bent flat for hundreds of yards below, dust and small stones lifted and whipped toward the singularity.

The squad reacted instantly.

Anastas’s mind raced: This man is far too unstable. What in the ancestors’ name was he thinking bringing us here?

The others moved on instinct. Wyverns braked hard, wings flaring, halting mid-air with powerful downbeats. Swords and spell-staves slid halfway from sheaths and harnesses. Heads snapped toward the direction Dax faced.

They saw... nothing. Only empty sky.

Zain’s armor answered the threat before his mind fully caught up: shimmering plates of liquid silver erupted from beneath his skin, flowing and hardening into articulated layers that covered him from neck to boots in seconds.

Nadia never wavered. She stared fixedly at the empty air, forcing her vision to pierce deeper, to see. At last she caught it—a faint, heat-shimmer distortion, a blurry silhouette that refused to resolve.

But through the Origin Eyes, Dax saw the stranger’s true form without obstruction.

To ordinary sight he appeared merely a middle-aged man of unremarkable height and build.

To Dax he was something else entirely: an entity locked in ceaseless, fluid transformation. In the space of a single drawn breath the figure cycled—bright-eyed child → hard-jawed adult in his prime → frail elder with sunken cheeks and silver hair—then back to the child again, over and over in perfect, silent rotation.

Blast!

Dax unleashed the orb.

It crossed the miles in less than a heartbeat, materializing directly in front of the stranger like a teleportation strike.

A second later the entire trajectory detonated.

Huge columns of sand erupted skyward in choking white clouds. Centuries-old trees snapped at the base with rifle-crack reports and cartwheeled upward. Scattered beast carcasses—old bones and fresh kills alike—tore free of the earth and spun wildly into the heavens.

"My God..." The squad fell deathly silent. One by one their stunned gazes drifted back to Dax.

Then came the concussive bang—a sound that rattled ribs and sent every hidden bird within miles exploding from the treetops in blind terror.

Ripples shuddered across the air precisely where the man stood. The black hole halted dead in its tracks, trapped and impotent.

No mana.

The realization struck Dax like cold iron.

How is that even possible?

The stranger smiled—slow, almost indulgent.

In the blink of an eye both he and the singularity vanished.

"Distasteful child of the Fall," came a calm, cultured voice from nowhere and everywhere. "You truly have no manners."

He reappeared much closer—scant dozens of paces away—coalescing as smoothly as mist turning to flesh.

He extended one hand. Gentle ripples pulsed outward from his open palm. The black hole drifted free once more, still raging, still hungry. With the barest puff of breath he sent it screaming back toward Dax.

The sky shrieked as though reality itself were being torn along invisible seams.

"I believe," the man said pleasantly, smile unwavering, "you should have a taste of your own medicine."

"Merlin!" The name tore from every throat at once.

Shock rippled through the squad like ice water. Faces drained of color. Fear settled in deep—visible in trembling hands, in the way even Zain’s jaw clenched tight.

They looked desperately to Dax.

Only Nadia remained utterly composed. She glanced sideways at her terrified comrades. Their fear comes from ignorance, she thought coolly. They don’t yet understand what they’re seeing.

Dax’s own lips curved into a faint, dangerous smile.

"I see you’ve amplified my attack. Impressive. But I find myself wondering... how exactly did you manage it?"

He rose smoothly off Cain’s back and floated forward through empty air. Slowly, deliberately, he extended his right hand.

BOOM.

The recoil was apocalyptic—shockwaves rippling outward, tearing at the sky itself.

Yet Dax’s grip never faltered.

Through the skill Touch, the singularity rested motionless in his palm, its terrible force rendered harmless against him.

The surroundings suffered no such mercy. The air turned turbulent; wind howled in every direction. 𝑓𝑟ℯ𝘦𝓌𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝑐ℴ𝓂

Zain’s voice cut through the roar. "Retreat! Now!"

He dove hard for the ground. The others followed in a frantic, wing-beating rush.

Cain and Little Purple did not move. They remained steady shadows at Dax’s flanks, patient and unshaken.

Just as the fleeing riders neared the earth, Merlin tilted his head slightly to one side.

"Don’t play games with me."

His voice dropped—deeper now, resonant with unmistakable authority.

A barrier snapped into existence beneath them: Tier 8 magic, flawless and impenetrable, a vast inverted dome of translucent force sealing their descent completely.

From Cain’s back, Nadia began to chant without hesitation.

"From the vault of heaven, let the light rays of the sun intensify and converge upon a single blazing point."

"By the purifying radiance that burns even the flames of hell itself, I beseech thee—become my blade, my purifier, and smite asunder all that dares block our path!"

Sunlight bent and gathered in her upturned palms, condensing into a blinding lance of white fire. It stabbed forward with surgical precision. The barrier hissed and blackened; a smoking tunnel tore straight through the Tier 8 spell, granting passage once more.

Dax ignored the chaos completely.

He lifted the raging black hole to his lips.

Gulp.

The sound carried—loud, wet, deliberate—echoing across the suddenly still air.

Merlin’s composure shattered. His eyes widened. One hand rose instinctively to rub beneath his nose in stunned disbelief.

What... did I just witness?

"How foolish," Dax said, voice flat and utterly emotionless, "to turn my own attack against me."

His left hand drifted to the hilt of the blade at his hip.

He was about to draw—

Merlin laughed. A short, surprised bark that carried genuine astonishment.

"I have no idea what you truly are, boy... but you are insanely strong."

He looked at Dax with renewed, almost delighted curiosity.

Before he could say another word, Dax spoke first.

His voice had changed—deeper, rougher, carrying an ancient echo that seemed to come from somewhere far older than his body.

"Who are you?"

"Ohh, how rude of me." Merlin’s smile returned, wry and self-deprecating. "I had assumed even the younger generation would recognize me by sight alone. But since the name means nothing to you... you must indeed belong to this era."

"What is your purpose?" Dax pressed, tone low and unyielding. "I know you were watching when I captured that cultist."