The Legendary Mage novel Chapter 239

In the deep of night, silence reigned, and the fortress stood on high alert.

Lucan and his two companions lay in hiding, each at a different point around the fortress. At the same moment, they began to recite an incantation, a chant obtained from the Chained Spirit, one capable of awakening the Immortal Edge.

Their voices, deep and resonant, carried the magic through the air, drifting through the fortress halls. The sound was soft and eerie, at times like the chirping of night insects, at others like a low whisper, gradually enveloping the entire fortress.

Within a hidden chamber, the old Lord Lanard stood vigil over the blade known as the “Immortal Edge,” anxiously awaiting news from Lawren and fearing their plans had gone awry.

Though eight years had passed, the Cobalt Strike's treatment of Stormcast suggested their fury from years past had not abated. Should the sword resurface, Cobalt Strike would surely unleash a maelstrom of blood and vengeance, and the Rocke family would not escape ruin.

Did Lanard regret the day he seized the ancient blade? Not in the slightest. In this world, the strong ruled supreme, and without risking the climb, how could one reach the heights of power?

Were he to choose again, he would make the same decision without hesitation.

Lanard counted the days on his fingers. "Seven days with no word – what in the blazes are they doing?!"

Suddenly, a series of faint sounds drifted into the chamber, echoing long within the confines of the room. Lanard slowly rose, puzzled by the noise. He preferred silence and had strictly forbidden any disturbance at night, but this sound was most peculiar.

As he moved to push open the stone door of his chamber, the Immortal Edge behind him erupted with a clangor-like clashing steel sound, sending a wave of force reverberating through the confined space.

Lanard's spirit lifted as a thrill of surprise showed on his face. Had the sword awakened?

The Immortal Edge, which had been silent for over eight years, began to rise. Its ancient runes glowed on the blade's surface, growing brighter and casting strange shadows in the chamber, like figures encircling the ancient sword, mysterious and venerable, filling the room with an air of desolate antiquity.