A Journey That Changed The World. - Chapter 1701 - 1701: How's Aslan?

Archer watched the two women kneeling and chuckled. ”Yes, we’re friends. But I’ve been a bad one and haven’t come to visit, since I’m always busy.”

Lady Seraphine giggled. ”Yes, we’ve all heard the rumors about your harem and children. I must admit, Princess Freya is so adorable. Her white hair is just like yours, your majesty.”

”Thank you Seraphine,” he replied. ”Lovely name by the way, reminds me of my Seraphina, similar names.”

When the young woman heard this, her dark eyes widened in surprise as she nodded. ”Yes, Empress Seraphina. I’ve seen her a few times, but she’s always on the move.”

Archer laughed at this and agreed. ”Yes, Sera can never keep still and is always doing something to keep busy.”

Lady Elowen was about to speak, but someone throwing up interrupted them, causing everyone to look at Cian, who was hunched over, being sick. Archer chuckled before using his mana to knock the young man out so he could rest. He picked his old friend up and slung him over his shoulder.

”Ladies, I’m gonna have to leave,” he revealed. ”Then I’m going to go home myself, got the babies waiting.”

”It was a pleasure to meet you, my emperor,” Seraphine replied, smiling brightly.

”Make sure you come by and visit the boys soon,” Elowen commented. ”They would love to see you.”

”Will do,” Archer said. ”See you both at the wedding.”

Afterward, Archer and Lioran set out for Cian’s residence, a manor lying only a short distance from Magnus’s estate. With the Dragonknights having swept the path clear ahead of them, they covered the ground in scarcely ten minutes. At the entrance, he eased the still-sleeping warrior into the waiting arms of Cian’s butler.

The man received his master, bowed his head in a respectful bow, then turned and carried Cian inside. Archer lingered a moment longer, watching the heavy door close, before he and Lioran retraced their steps. Twenty minutes later, they were standing outside a big manor that was surrounded by a large wall guarded by the Homeguard.

As they stepped inside, two figures hurried toward them. Lioran’s face lit up; he strode forward, arms open, his smile wide and unguarded. ”Leonora! Nalika!” he called, voice warm with relief. ”I’m home, my loves.”

Archer let out a low chuckle, staying a step back as both women launched themselves at Lioran. They collided with him in a tangle of arms and joyful exclamations, hugging fiercely, kissing his cheeks, his jaw, paying the rest of the world no mind. Only after a long moment did Leonora glance past her fiancé’s shoulder.

Her emerald eyes widened, recognition flashing across her face. She eased her grip on Lioran just enough to stare. ”Archer…?” she breathed, surprise softening into something brighter.

Nalika looked at him, shocked, before she moved away from Lioran and knelt respectfully. This caused Archer to laugh at her reaction, but he waved her away. ”No need for that, ladies. I’ve known you both for years, and you’re marrying my best friend.”

When the duo heard this, their faces lit up as Lioran laughed. ”Damn, right! Plus, you’re married to my sister.”

”How’s Aslan? I heard his adorable!” Nalika asked, brown eyes full of excitement.

”He’s fine, growing big and naughty just like his mother,” Archer replied, chuckling at the memory of his son. ”Looks just like Nala, with some of my features.”

”Delightful!” Leonora beamed. ”The princess came to see us last week, but she didn’t bring the prince as he was playing with Tarik and didn’t want to leave.”

”Those two are close, being my only sons,” he said.

He opened his mouth to make his excuses and slip away, but Lioran turned before he could speak. ”Hold on, do you want to come in for some tea?” his friend asked, one brow raised in easy invitation.

Archer hesitated only a heartbeat. ”Alright, sounds good,” he said, the corner of his mouth lifting.

Lioran clapped him once on the shoulder and steered him through the wide main doors. Leonora and Nalika led the way ahead, each clinging to one of Lioran’s arms. Tipsy and giddy, they swayed together like a single, unsteady creature, giggling softly and leaning into him for balance, their steps weaving in a gentle, drunken harmony.

His friend didn’t seem to mind; he simply adjusted his stride to keep them upright, a fond, helpless smile playing across his face. Archer trailed a few paces behind, quietly amused by the sight: his normally composed friend turned human anchor for two laughing women who clearly had no intention of letting go anytime soon.

They passed beneath the high stone arch of the entrance and into the manor Aisha had gifted them, a sprawling, elegant place still carrying the faint newness of recent occupancy, its halls warm with lamplight and the distant scent of cedar and spice. While walking through his friend’s home, a panicked voice echoed in his mind.

‘Archer! A Terravian is on Pluoria causing chaos!’ Teuila warned him.

Archer glanced between the three of them, expression already shifting to something harder, more focused. ”Guys,” he said quietly, ”I’m going to have to reschedule. A Terravian just surfaced on Pluoria. I need to handle it, now.”

Lioran’s easy smile faded; Leonora and Nalika exchanged a quick look. They nodded in unison, no questions. He gave them a small nod of thanks. Then the air around him cracked and folded, and he vanished in a shimmer. He reappeared beside Teuila in a heartbeat, boots sinking into soft Pluorian soil.

The wind still carried the faint ozone tang of his teleport. Before she could even turn, his senses snapped outward like a net: three distinct presences, pulsing with alien intent less than fifty meters away. No hesitation as he launched forward. The acceleration was brutal, air screamed past him, a shockwave that ripped leaves from nearby trees.

A sonic boom detonated behind him as he crossed the distance in less than a second. He materialized dead-center between the three Terravians. Their faceted eyes flared in shock, crystalline limbs half-raised in defensive arcs, but they were already too late. Archer instantly struck.

His right fist hammered into the first one’s chest with bone-shattering force; armor cracked like slate under the blow, ribs collapsing inward. At the same instant, his barbed tail whipped around in a silver blur, spearing clean through the second Terravian’s torso. The point punched out the creature’s back in a spray of dark blood, skewering its heart.

It died mid-gasp, limbs jerking once before going slack. The third tried to twist away. Archer’s head snapped forward. Jaws lined with obsidian dragon-teeth clamped down on the Terravian’s neck and shoulder in a single, crushing bite. Bone crunched. Hot blood, bitter and metallic, flooded his mouth as he tore sideways.

The creature’s head and half its upper torso came free in a wet arc; the rest of the body crumpled, twitching. Silence followed, broken only by the drip of ichor hitting leaves and the low hiss of steam rising where blood met cool air. Archer straightened slowly, wiping his mouth with the back of one scaled forearm.

Three broken Terravian corpses lay crumpled at his feet, ichor pooling dark and steaming in the grass. The battlefield had gone deathly quiet, no wind, no birds, only the slow drip of enemy blood hitting leaves. He exhaled once, then he noticed them. Across the ridge, perhaps two hundred meters away, a Draconian legion stood locked in combat with the last knot of bandits.

Swords clashed, shields cracked, shouts rose and fell, but the entire battlefield had frozen mid-motion. Every face, human and bandit alike, had turned toward him. Wide eyes. Open mouths. Weapons half-raised, forgotten. They had seen the sonic boom. They had seen the three elite Terravians torn apart in seconds.

And now they saw him standing there, scaled, blood-smeared, dragon-teeth still faintly gleaming. Archer didn’t hesitate. He lifted his right hand, palm outward. Power surged as the air shivered. A low rumble answered from beyond the physical world as a portal opened, shocking everyone.

Then they came. The ground split in jagged fissures along the ridge. Broodmaws erupted from the Domain, dozens at first, then hundreds. Their eyes burned dull violet; acid drool hissed where it struck earth. They flowed downhill like a black tide. The bandits barely had time to scream.

Claws tore through leather and chain as he ordered them to target the bandits. Mandibles sheared limbs. Tails lashed, cracking ribs and skulls with whip-crack force. The slaughter was clinical, merciless, and over in minutes. Men tried to run; Broodmaws simply vaulted forward on all six limbs and pinned them.

Blood sprayed in bright arcs, soaking the trampled grass until the entire slope ran slick and red, the copper-iron reek thick enough to taste. When it ended, the bandits were gone, reduced to scattered meat and broken gear. The Broodmaws paused, heads lowered, dripping.

Following that, Archer waved his hand, sending the monsters back to the Domain, along with all the dead bandits’ bodies.