I Became A Zompirewolf-Chapter 675 Fear Me (5)

Deep within the labyrinthine caves under the First's city, the echoes of spells colliding and the clash of weapons against shields filled the air.

Vulcan, Flintmace, Laihud, and Vimur were locked in a fierce battle against the relentless Cultists who had gathered there to steal the mysterious medallion.

However, despite their fierce battle, no one above the ground seemed to notice their presence. It seemed like the cavern walls were absorbing the sounds, creating an eerie, stifling atmosphere.

The Cultists weren't anything extraordinary in terms of strength, but there were just too many of them in that space. It was clear that they weren't there to defeat the enemy but to delay their advance and buy time for the others to locate the medallion.

No one knew their reasons for seeking the medallion, but one thing was clear—they would stop at nothing to seize its power.

"Remind me why can't I just blow them up!" Vulcan roared at the top of his lungs as more Cultists poured out of a crevix.

"Because we don't want to blow up the city above!" Flintmace roared as he slashed yet another Cultist.

"It's a shame, but at this pace, we can forget about taking the medallion," Vimur shook his head before smashing a cultist's head with his shield.

"Wait... do you sense that?" Vulcan mumbled, and he turned around.

"Yes, I do!" Amidst the swirling swords, Flintmace, always vigilant, sensed an unsettling presence.

These Cultists were not acting alone. The ground beneath them trembled, and a deafening roar reverberated through the cave, shaking the walls.

If the Cultists managed to sandwich them inside the cave, it wouldn't be good for them, no matter how strong they were. However, the reality of the situation wasn't as grim as he thought.

Out of the shadows, creatures resembling massive tigers emerged, their silver fur shimmering in the dim light. Their eyes glowed with an unnatural shine.

"Tigorans!" Flintmace smiled.

Tigorans were the pet of choice for the fiercest Xyrans as they complimented their strength and were known as a sign of nobility.

Flintmace wasn't smiling because of his history with the creatures but because he knew only one guy on Euphoria could have tamed the beasts.

As the Tigorans charged into the fray, it became evident that these were not ordinary beasts. They were the personal guardians of the First Seatholder—a rare sight, as the First seldom ventured beyond the confines of his comfort.

"Tigorans? That's the first time I've heard about them?" Vimur mumbled as he saw the creatures in action.

Flintmace's sharp eyes traced the movement of the beasts. He knew these creatures well, having crossed paths with the First Seatholder during their Xyran days.

The First's Tigorans were renowned for their ferocity and loyalty and stood as a formidable force under the Xyran's command.

"I did not expect to see you here," Flintmace mumbled as the First appeared before him.

The First Seatholder, a stoic figure in his imposing modified Xyran armour, observed the skirmish without a hint of emotion. When Flintmace turned to acknowledge him, the First merely nodded, acknowledging the presence of his former comrade.

However, when the First's gaze landed upon Vulcan, his expression darkened. Memories of a bitter past resurfaced—a time when the Xyran waged war against the Precursors, and the Dwarves had defended the latter.

Back then, Vulcan had been a relentless force on the battlefield, responsible for decimating a significant portion of the First's squad. The animosity between them was palpable, a tension that hung heavily in the cave's damp air.

Flintmace was half expecting the First to order his Tigorans to attack Vulcan, knowing the history between the two. However, the First didn't do it, choosing the path of indifference instead.

In his cold, measured voice, the First Seatholder addressed the intruders, "What brings you to my territory?"

Flintmace stepped forward, his posture respectful yet resolute. He explained their mission—the medallion, the Cultists, and their mission to prevent the artefact from falling into the wrong hands.

But Flintmace didn't forget to emphasise that they were here as allies, striving to protect the Euphoria from a potentially catastrophic threat of the Cultists.

The First rolled his eyes, pointing at the countless corpses his Tigorans had laid before him. It was as if the First was mocking them and their 'catastrophic threat'. But Besides that, he stayed silent and listened to what Flintmace had to say.

When Flintmace concluded his explanation, the First nodded once more. "Very well. I get it, but first step outside the cave, all of you."

As they complied with his command. However, as soon as they stepped out of the cave, the guards restrained them, their grip firm and unyielding.

"What are you doing!?" Flintmace, always the diplomat, attempted to reason with the First to convince him they were allies in this crucial time. "I told you, we're the good guys here! It's the Cult you want to-"

"I don't care what you have to say, traitor," The First scoffed. "I can make my own decisions here."

At that moment, Flintmace remembered what Ashton had informed them about the First's possible allegiance to the Cult. But that shouldn't have been the case, as he had slaughtered some cultists moments ago.

'Was it a mere show?' Flintmace thought before requesting the First to let go of his team.

Yet, the First Seatholder remained resolute, unwilling to yield. That was until a distant, ominous whirring sound filled the cavern, growing louder with each passing moment. The Xyran leader turned his gaze skyward, his eyes widening in recognition and astonishment.

"How could this be..." The First and Flintmace both had their eyes and mouths left open as they recognised the new entrants.

However, none of them were as shocked as Vulcan, who couldn't believe his eyes. No one had ever seen the dwarf tear up, but upon seeing the creation of his forefathers, even Vulcan couldn't hold back his tears.

Descending from the sky were several formidable automatons, their metallic forms gleaming menacingly in the dim light. Accompanying this mechanical army was a figure encased in an advanced battlesuit.

It was someone they all knew, and yet he felt like a stranger to them. The boy no longer had the slightest look of naivety and had become an imposing presence that exuded authority and power.

It was none other than Ashton... dressed in his father's jet-black battlesuit.