The Destructive Adventures of the Lovers-Chapter 82: Blood and Time

The sky over Lavera turned black again—not from clouds, but from despair.

Bodies collapsed. The fire screamed.

And in the eye of the storm, Vaneshka laughed.

"Face it, Margo," she whispered, circling through the air like a vulture. "You'll lose him. Just like you lost everyone."

Gabriel held Margo's hand tightly. "Ignore her. Focus."

They leapt.

Vaneshka's blood shot out like spears from her palms, twisting mid-air. Gabriel spun his blade, cutting through the red thorns, while Margo dove under, sliding and slicing through the air.

"You think love is your weapon?" Vaneshka sneered. "I have blood. I have darkness. I am forever."

"Then forever dies today," Margo spat.

With one synchronized strike, Margo stabbed from below while Gabriel slashed down from the sky—catching Vaneshka in the shoulder and ribs.

She shrieked—falling back, bleeding out—but still laughing.

—

Nearby...

Owen was breathing hard, blades slick with Lydia's fire. His legs were trembling.

"Give up," she said, fire hovering at her fingertips. "You're good. But not enough."

He smiled, bloody. "Good. I'm tired of being enough."

He threw both daggers.

Lydia caught one. The other grazed her cheek.

"You missed," she said.

Owen smiled. "No, I didn't."

Behind her, a tower crumbled. But before he could see it fall—

A jet of fire pierced his chest.

He fell.

"Owen!" Matt screamed from the distance—but it was too late.

—

In the broken square...

Zeze locked blades with Aror.

He smiled wide, blood dripping from his teeth. "This is what I missed. The chaos. The hunt."

She didn't speak. Her eyes were dead calm.

He lunged—and she let him.

Then in one motion, her second blade shot up, straight through his mouth.

Aror twitched, his regenerative skin twitching violently, but Zeze whispered: "Not even healing can save a rotted soul."

She twisted the blade, and he crumbled.

—

Inside the throne hall...

Phill was down on one knee, face bloodied. Xyrille hovered above him, her black wings stretched wide.

"King Jacob was my father," she said. "You took everything from him. From me."

Phill smirked, coughing blood. "You're just a girl with wings."

"No," she said. "I'm Lavera's ghost. And I'm done being dead."

A sphere of shadow erupted from her chest—pure darkness wrapping Phill. He screamed as his skin cracked, body shattering like glass.

He was gone.

—

Suddenly, the world... froze.

A pulse of blue light rippled across Lavera.

Birds stopped in the air. Fire froze mid-flicker.

And the villagers stood still—eyes wide, unaware.

Then came Atlas.

Walking slowly through the frozen air, hands behind his back, blades hovering around him.

"So much noise," he whispered.

With a flick of his finger, the time bubble shattered—and every villager in Lavera collapsed.

Dead. All of them.

No scream. No fight. Just silence.

Xyrille screamed. Margo fell to her knees. Gabriel clutched his head in horror.

Atlas stood in the center, smiling like a god.

"You fight for people who are already dust," he said. "You fight for what's gone."

The war wasn't over.

But something had just died that could never come back.

Here is the next Chapter, packed with chaos, betrayal, and an impossible battle of light versus shadows:

The air was thick—burning with blood and time.

In the heart of Lavera, where ruins smoked and spirits whispered, the final confrontation ignited.

Zeze, Xyrille, Matt, Gabriel, and Margo stood shoulder to shoulder. Torn, trembling, bleeding—but not broken.

Across from them, rising in eerie unison, were Vaneshka, Atlas, and Lydia—the core of the Evil Clan.

Vaneshka's laugh echoed as she raised both arms.

From the graves, the dead knights of Lavera clawed their way out—armor shattered, eyes glowing red, their minds consumed.

"No," Gabriel whispered. "Those were my friends."

"They were," Vaneshka hissed. "Now they are yours to kill."

Matt growled. "This is sick."

"Then fight," Lydia said, raising her wand-sword, flickering with infernal magic. "Or die like your beloved Ella."

Zeze roared, lunging at Vaneshka with her dual blades. Sparks flew. Blood spilled.

"I'm going to gut you," she hissed. "For every innocent soul you corrupted."

Vaneshka smiled, her blade of veins and bone clashing with Zeze's steel. "Good. Let hate consume you. It makes the blood sweeter."

Behind them, Xyrille soared, wings black as grief. She clashed with Atlas, whose eyes glowed with endless time. fгee𝑤ebɳoveɭ.cøm

"Stay still," Atlas said, flicking his fingers.

Time warped—Xyrille froze mid-air—

—but her eyes still moved.

She broke free.

"You can't stop death," she growled. "I've been it."

She dived, her wings slicing the wind like blades, crashing into him.

Meanwhile, Matt was surrounded by the undead knights.

His face paled. "Forgive me..."

He raised his arms. A wave of flame burst from him—burning three of them to ash.

But they kept coming.

Then—Gabriel was knocked down, sword flying.

Margo screamed, rushing to his side.

"Get up!" she yelled, eyes wide with tears. "Don't you leave me!"

"I'm not... I'm not leaving..." he breathed, clutching his bleeding side.

Lydia approached them both, smiling cruelly. "How poetic."

But Margo stood.

"You'll never understand love," she whispered.

She plunged her dagger forward, slicing Lydia's arm.

Lydia shrieked—but Vaneshka grabbed Margo from behind, slamming her into a wall of bone.

"STOP THIS!" Zeze screamed. "This kingdom is ours. The people are ours. You won't take it."

"You're already too late," Atlas said calmly. "Look around. The knights follow her now."

The Saviors of Creation were surrounded. Outnumbered. Wounded.

But they stood.

Matt's flames roared. Zeze's blades danced. Xyrille's wings beat like war drums. Margo gritted her teeth, bleeding but fierce. Gabriel, gasping, stood up again—sword in hand.

"For Lavera," he whispered.

"For Ella," Matt added.

"For peace," Margo said.

"For revenge," Zeze growled.

"For Father," Xyrille hissed.

They charged.

And the earth itself trembled.