abnabooks Chapter 640 A Fight at Somerset
Chapter 640 A Fight at Somerset
The masked man pressed forward, stepping closer to Harry, who was clearly out of breath and drained of mana. Blood seeped from multiple wounds across his body, yet he showed no intention of speaking.
Envy's eyes locked onto the notebook. She recognized it immediately—it wasn't just any notebook; it was her notebook, the one she had used to record countless thoughts, magic theories, and important secrets. Regret gnawed at her, and she desperately wished she could go back in time and slap herself for her carelessness.
Why did I leave something so important in the library? she thought bitterly. Back then, she had never imagined she would one day be exiled from the Hightower.
Envy stepped through the door, her presence halting all activity in the courtyard. She had decided to lend Harry a hand—not out of obligation, but to soothe her own guilt. This, however, would be the last time she involved herself with him. After this, whether Harry lived or died, prospered or fell into ruin, it would no longer concern her.
The moment the man in the owl mask and his associates saw Envy, they froze and slowly stepped back. Their expressions betrayed wariness but not surprise, as if her arrival was something they had anticipated—or perhaps they already knew she would be here, which explained their composed reaction, marked only by caution.
"Lady Envy, good afternoon," the man in the owl mask greeted, his tone dripping with mock politeness. "I hope you don't mind us paying a visit to your old..." His gaze swept over the castle, laced with sarcasm. "...castle."
"You don't seem surprised to see me," Envy replied, her tone sharp. "Does that mean someone tipped you off? Or do you have connections in the Hightower who told you about me?" She scanned the faces of the assailants, noting the faint nervousness flickering in their eyes.
Envy couldn't discern whether these people were from the Hightower themselves, rogue mages, or mercenaries hired by the man in the owl mask. Ever since her exile, she had lost track of the Hightower's inner workings. Many of her former allies, such as the Stenmark family, had already relocated to the Order of Ember.
Even when she had served as a Grand Councilor, the Hightower had been a melting pot of mages with diverse beliefs and philosophies—some good, some bad. Back then, the institution had been kept in check by its laws and her influence, which had suppressed those too unruly. Now, however, she had no idea what the Hightower had become.
"Judging by your reaction, it seems it's the latter," Envy concluded. "But regardless, you all must leave. This is your final warning," she declared coldly.
The assailants exchanged nervous glances, then turned to the man in the owl mask, silently seeking his decision.
The man in the owl mask remained motionless, offering no response. He simply stood there, staring at Envy without any indication of retreating or advancing.
Envy frowned, her instincts on high alert. She had lived long enough to recognize a stalling tactic when she saw one, though its purpose eluded her. Without hesitation, she channeled her mana, powering her mana shield in preparation for whatever might come.
Hearing this, Achilles froze, his eyes wide with disbelief. The mention of Penthesilea struck a deep chord in his psyche—a woman he had killed and defiled in a moment of anger, frustration, and lust. The memory of his shameful act seemed to paralyze him along with anger and frustration as Penthesilea is one of a knot in his heart and his object of obsession.
Seizing the opportunity, Envy immediately cast her spell to transform into her battle form. Abyssal flames erupted across her body, shaping themselves into the imposing Archfiend Leather Armor.
This form was a controlled manifestation of a portion of her Hell Lord power, designed to minimize collateral damage and keep her destructive abilities firmly within her control. It was a condensed version of Leviathan's immense power, optimized for efficiency in combat.
In truth, Envy doesn't want to bring up Penthesilea, knowing it might endanger her. It also sounds like she was throwing Daniel under the bus by mentioning this to Achilles, but.... She was confident in Daniel's security measures and his paranoia. She believed Penthesilea would remain safe, no matter what.
"What did you say!?" Achilles roared, anger consuming him as he intensified his attacks. But it was already too late—Envy had fully assumed her battle form. Her spells now flowed with remarkable fluidity, requiring only a fraction of the time to cast. With a wave of her hand, a surge of telekinetic power exploded outward, pushing Achilles and the barrage of spells fired at her back.
The result was chaos. A kaleidoscope of spells detonated in mid-air as they were repelled, the fiery blasts scorching shields while shards of ice pierced them. The casters suffered varying degrees of backlash—not severe, but enough to momentarily stagger them—until...
Whoosh!
Envy surged through the smokescreen of fire and icy fog, her claws extending like razor-sharp daggers. They gleamed with a sinister black luster, coated in a fiery glow that triggered every instinct of alarm within the mages. Those claws could shred through magical shields as effortlessly as a blade slicing wet paper.
In an instant, a sudden gust of wind swept through, and Achilles planted himself between Envy and the mages. His shield intercepted her deadly swipe, absorbing the full force of a Hell Lord's wrath. Envy had not held back—her fiery claws left deep, glowing marks across the shield, the impact forcing Achilles back. Without missing a beat, she launched another attack, this time directly at the mages.
Swish! Swish!
With nothing standing in her way, her claws tore through their shields, rending flesh and bone with horrifying ease. It was as if a hot blade had sliced through butter.
"Arrrghh!"
"My arm!"
Blood-curdling screams filled the courtyard as Envy began her merciless assault.