Ancestral Lineage

Chapter 119 Beast Plane Again.

The open field stretched endlessly under a sky painted in hues of deep orange and fading blue. A cool wind whispered through the tall grass, rippling it like waves on a calm sea. Ethan stood at the edge of the field, his arms crossed, watching silently as Jerry stepped forward. Despite the steady posture he tried to maintain, his mismatched red-silver eyes betrayed a glint of hesitation.

In the heart of the field, the air shimmered as though reality itself bent and swirled, a mirage at the edge of existence. Gradually, the outline of a magnificent creature began to form. With each passing second, its presence grew heavier, a weight that pressed down on the senses. A deep, resonant hum filled the air, vibrating through the ground and rattling the bones of all who stood nearby.

From the swirling distortion emerged Zephyrlis. Explore new worlds at My Virtual Library Empire

The sight of it stole the breath of all who watched. Once a leader of its kind, this great beast had been reduced to a Silver-ranked creature: a wyvern, a shadow of its former self after years of captivity and experimentation at the Beast Research Center. Yet, even now, its presence was undeniable—a remnant of its former majesty lingered, undiminished by its fall.

Zephyrlis's massive frame moved with an eerie grace, its translucent wings unfurling like curtains of mist caught in the breeze. Ethereal and otherworldly, the wings shimmered with an inner light that shifted between silver and pale blue, stretching so far they seemed to touch the horizon. Its sleek body, the color of a stormy sky, bore glowing azure veins that pulsed faintly like lightning trapped beneath its skin.

Its elongated tail coiled with predatory precision, tipped with a crystalline barb that glittered ominously in the fading sunlight. The beast's head was both regal and terrifying, crowned by jagged, silver-blue spines that curved elegantly backward. Piercing silver eyes glowed with an ancient intelligence, their light cutting through the dimming sky like twin moons. Resting in the center of its forehead was a small, glowing crystal of silvery light—a mark of its current rank, yet a reminder of its former glory.

The air around it rippled with latent power, bending the wind to its will. The gale howled in reverence, stirring the grass and trees in rhythmic waves. Ethan's voice broke the stillness, low and commanding.

"Step forward, Jerry. It's waiting for you."

Jerry inhaled deeply, steadying himself. His heightened senses buzzed, overwhelmed by the sheer force of Zephyrlis's presence. This was no ordinary beast; it was a force of nature, a living storm in the shape of a creature. He stepped forward slowly, each movement measured, as if approaching the edge of a precipice.

Zephyrlis's glowing silver eyes locked onto him, and the wind stilled. It felt as though the entire world had gone silent, holding its breath in anticipation of what was to come.

...

Jerry stopped a few meters away, his mismatched gaze unwavering. The beast let out a low growl—a sound that rumbled like distant thunder. Without warning, a gale erupted from its wings, the wind lashing at Jerry like invisible blades. The force of it sent waves of debris flying, and Jerry instinctively raised his arm to shield himself.

The sharp winds tore at his skin, drawing thin lines of blood that healed almost instantly. Gritting his teeth, Jerry anchored himself to the ground, his aura flaring to life. A mixture of crimson and silver energy radiated from him, shimmering like liquid metal under moonlight.

Zephyrlis tilted its head, intrigued. The beast wasn't testing Jerry's strength alone; it sought balance, composure, and mastery over chaos.

Jerry seemed to understand this unspoken challenge. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Instead of fighting against the tempest, he allowed it to wash over him. He stood still, his aura retreating inward until he became a silent center amidst the storm—a calm eye within the vortex.

Zephyrlis roared, its voice a deafening crack of thunder that shook the heavens. It rose into the air, its massive wings cutting through the sky with a sound like tearing silk. A spiraling vortex of wind and debris formed above, descending upon Jerry with the force of a hurricane.

Jerry's eyes snapped open, glowing like molten rubies. With a roar of his own, he leaped into the maelstrom, his body moving with supernatural speed. Shadows clung to him as he danced through the storm, weaving between deadly gusts of wind like a phantom. He reached out with glowing hands, catching hold of one of the beast's talons as it swooped low.

For a moment, the world seemed to pause. Their energies clashed—Jerry's dark, vampiric essence colliding with Zephyrlis's wild, untamed winds. The air crackled with raw power; tension so thick it felt as though the sky might shatter.

Then, slowly, the winds calmed.

...

...

The familiar sensation of disorientation washed over Ethan as the world around him shifted and blurred. In an instant, he was back at his last location—the sun-scorched desert, where the reddish-brown sands stretched endlessly under the glaring double suns of the Beast Plane. He barely had a moment to regain his footing when the ground beneath him trembled.

The movement wasn't subtle. It was deliberate and menacing. Ethan's mismatched eyes darted around, his heightened senses already picking up on the danger. Eight colossal Sand Scorpions, their silver-scaled exoskeletons glinting in the sunlight, burst forth from the dunes, their massive pincers snapping and tails arching forward, venom dripping from their stingers.

"Not again," Ethan muttered, gritting his teeth as he summoned his spear with a flash of dark energy.

The scorpions moved in unison, their predatory instincts evident in their coordinated approach. Ethan leaped back, narrowly avoiding the strike of a stinger that embedded itself into the ground where he'd been standing moments before.

"Trevor, wake up! We've got company!" Ethan shouted instinctively, before realizing Trevor wasn't there. It was just him.

The realization settled like a weight in his chest, but there was no time to dwell on it. He focused, channeling his energy into his spear, which began to radiate an ominous crimson glow. The heat of the desert combined with his own rising frustration fueled his resolve.

One of the scorpions lunged, its pincers wide open to crush him. Ethan sidestepped, spinning his spear with precision, and drove it into the creature's joint, severing one of its pincers with a spray of silver ichor. The beast let out a shrill screech, but there was no time to celebrate.

Another scorpion came from behind, its venomous tail striking toward his exposed back. Ethan reacted instinctively, summoning a wall of hardened sand to intercept the attack. The stinger shattered through the barrier but lost momentum, giving him enough time to leap onto the creature's back.

With a savage thrust, he drove his spear into its carapace, twisting it to ensure the kill. The scorpion thrashed violently before collapsing, its legs curling inward.

The remaining six didn't hesitate. They encircled him, their movements methodical and relentless. Ethan could feel the heat of the battle sapping his strength. His vampire senses were sharp, but the Beast Plane's sunlight still weighed on him, forcing him to conserve energy.

"Alright," he muttered, his voice low but resolute. "Let's end this."

He took a deep breath, focusing inward to summon Galeno. The massive black tortoise emerged from a swirling shadowy portal, its silver shell gleaming like a beacon. Galeno roared—a deep, resonating sound that sent a shockwave through the air, halting the scorpions' advance for a split second.

"Crush them," Ethan commanded.

Galeno obeyed, its draconic tail swinging with immense force, sending two of the scorpions flying into the dunes. They didn't rise again. The remaining four scorpions turned their attention to the tortoise, but Galeno was an impenetrable fortress, deflecting their attacks with its armored shell.

Ethan took advantage of the distraction, moving with blinding speed. His spear became a blur as he dispatched two more scorpions, their bodies crumpling to the ground in heaps of ichor and shattered exoskeleton.

The last two scorpions hesitated, their primal instincts recognizing the futility of the fight. Before they could retreat, Ethan raised his hand, channeling the desert sands to form massive spikes. With a flick of his wrist, the spikes shot forward, impaling the scorpions and ending the battle.

As the dust settled, Ethan stood amidst the carnage, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Galeno lowered its head, offering a moment of quiet reassurance.

"Thanks, buddy," Ethan muttered, patting the tortoise's massive shell.

He didn't have long to recover. The Beast Plane had proven time and again that rest was a luxury. Gathering his thoughts, Ethan turned his gaze toward the horizon. He wasn't sure what lay ahead, but one thing was certain: survival here demanded more than strength.

With Galeno by his side, he began to move, the oppressive desert heat weighing on him less than the ever-present uncertainty of what the Beast Plane would throw at him next.