Chapter 200
The eastern front was a canvas of chaos, painted in ash and blood. Addison Lazarus moved through it like a storm given flesh. Every motion of her blade sang with precision; every step was a sermon of death. To those who watched, she was not merely fighting, she was remembering. The legacy she bore was not just a title but the very foundation of her being, each ability etched into her soul through a lifetime of war and sacrifice.
Her enemies fell before her like reeds before the wind. Dragonbane Strike, the art that once slew the scaled tyrant of the South, split a charging fiend clean in two, the air itself trembling from the force. Iron Will glimmered around her like a second skin, deflecting the mental venom of curses and whispers that could drive lesser warriors to madness. Within that storm of blood and fire, her War Mother's Aura pulsed like a heartbeat, an unseen warmth that filled her allies with courage, making them stand taller, strike harder, and bleed slower.
To wield a weapon was, for her, to know it. With Weapon Sense, even a shattered blade became an extension of her will. When she grasped a fallen spear, it came alive in her grip, moving as though eager to serve its true master once more. And when her eyes dimmed, when her breath slowed and the chaos around her seemed to hang suspended in air, that was Death's Patience. In that state, time itself bowed to her. The flurry of enemy strikes became sluggish, predictable threads in a tapestry only she could see, and with a single, deliberate motion, she unmade them.
Around her, the Lazarus Guild, fifteen veteran hunters clad in dusted steel moved as one, following the rhythm of her command. Their formation shifted fluidly, adapting to the waves of fiends that poured from the burning fissures across the field. Alexsei Sokolov stood at the rear flank, his ten War Golems forming a fortress of moving iron. Their runic cores glowed a deep cobalt blue as they slammed through ranks of lesser demons, metal fists crushing obsidian bone, their gears singing in unison with the screams of the dying.
But then the ground itself convulsed.Two Archdemons emerged, those same horrors that had escaped Daniel's wrath hours before.
The first was called the Infernal Wound, a creature of molten chaos. Its skin was a lattice of red magma, threaded with blinding white fissures that dripped fire with every movement. Bladed arms, jagged and molten, scraped the air with a shriek like burning metal. When it roared, no sound escaped, only a shockwave of heat that warped the air and melted the corpses nearby into black tar.
The second was called the Mirror of Flesh, a shape without true form, silver and black, constantly folding, rippling, breathing. Tentacles whipped from its back, serrated edges catching moonlight as they carved through men and steel alike. A halo of shattered shards orbited its crown like broken glass drawn into orbit by malice. From every inch of its surface, eyes blinked—too many to count—each one reflecting the battlefield in fractured splinters, as though mocking every life that still dared to stand.
The air split with screams, steel, and sorcery. Lazarus met Varrak's first charge head-on, her blade striking against its molten claws in a shower of sparks. The impact threw up a wall of heat so intense that nearby trees ignited in seconds. Her guildmates formed a circle, chanting wards to hold the line, while Sokolov's golems engaged the silver abomination, their metallic roars echoing against the creature's wet, churning laughter.
Fire met steel. Flesh met will.Each clash was a hymn of survival, a chorus of defiance sung against the very embodiment of chaos.
And at the center of it all stood Addison Lazarus, her eyes burning with the calm fury of one who had transcended fear. She was not just a warrior; she was the axis upon which hope itself turned. The demons may have been born of nightmares, but she was the nightmare that nightmares feared.
The air reeked of iron and smoke. The screams of the dying had dulled into a low, endless moan that rolled across the battlefield like wind through a graveyard. Addison Lazarus moved through the carnage with her sword dragging against the dirt, the blade chipped and blackened from overuse. Her armor was cracked open at the shoulder, blood seeping into the fabric beneath. Every breath burned. Every step felt stolen. But she did not stop.
Beside her, Alexsei Sokolov was a walking fortress , his left arm bound in steel plates, his right dragging a chain connected to the shattered core of a fallen golem. Only three of his ten constructs still moved, their once-brilliant sigils flickering like dying embers. Each thud of their feet echoed like a funeral drum.
Then came the two demon peers , massive, lumbering horrors stripped of mysticism, reduced to raw, killing muscle. The first, its molten flesh cooled into cracked obsidian, moved like a berserker, heavy, unstoppable, the ground shaking beneath every step. The second was leaner, its shifting form barely holding shape, its jagged limbs twitching with unnatural spasms as if fighting to remain solid. There was no elegance in their motion, only hunger.
Addison raised her sword. No words. No battle cries. Just the rasp of breath and the tightening of her grip.
The first clash was a storm of pain. The molten demon's blade-arm came down, cleaving through one of Alexsei's golems like it was paper. The creature's molten blood hissed as it splattered across Addison's cheek, burning flesh. She didn't flinch. She stepped in close, slammed her shoulder into the monster's side, and drove her sword into the gap beneath its ribs, twisting until the steel screamed. It howled, grabbing her by the throat and flinging her back into the mud.
Alexsei's chain whistled. He yanked it tight around the creature's neck, bracing his feet in the dirt. "Now, Addison!" he roared through gritted teeth. She surged forward, every muscle screaming, and brought her blade down in a two-handed arc that split the demon's jaw clean open. It fell, convulsing, its molten blood pouring out like tar.
But there was no time to breathe. The second demon was already there , a blur of twitching limbs and blade-like bones, crashing into Alexsei with enough force to cave in his armor. His golems swarmed, grappling the creature down, stone hands tearing at sinew and bone, but it shredded through them one by one.
Addison crawled through the mud, coughing blood. Her vision blurred. Her fingers trembled as she reached for her weapon. She could hear Alexsei roaring, his voice cracking with pain as he tried to keep the monster contained.
Then she found her footing. Found her will.
Addison lunged, sliding beneath the demon's slashing arm, and drove her blade upward through its chest, pinning it against one of the shattered golems. The creature writhed, its many limbs clawing at her, tearing lines of blood down her face and arms. She didn't care. She pushed harder until the point burst from its back.
It went still.
For a moment, nothing moved. Just the hiss of cooling blood and the distant sound of rain beginning to fall. Addison stood there, shaking, breath ragged, eyes hollow. Around her lay the wreckage of golems, the broken bodies of hunters, and the fading glow of the slain demons.
Alexsei sank to one knee, his armor torn open, blood seeping through the seams. "We're still alive," he muttered, voice raw.
Addison looked down at her trembling hands, at the sword slick with black blood. "For now," she whispered. "But the day's not done yet."
And then, somewhere beyond the smoke, the horns of the next wave began to sound.
The rain fell harder now, washing blood into rivers that carved through the dirt. The dead sank quietly beneath the mud , knights, demons, hunters , all equal in the end. Addison could barely lift her sword anymore. Her arms ached like lead, her lungs raw with the taste of smoke. The world had narrowed to colorless ruin: gray sky, red ground, black blood.
Beside her, Alexsei Sokolov leaned against the broken shell of a golem, his breath ragged, the gears in his mechanical arm grinding weakly. Only two constructs remained, both cracked and trembling, their runes dimming with each passing second. Around them, less than a dozen Lazarus hunters stood, faces pale and hollow, armor dented, eyes wide with the dull glaze of shock.
Then came the sound , that low, guttural rumble rolling through the mist. The next wave.
Dozens, then hundreds of shapes emerged from the haze , demons of every size, their bodies stitched from nightmare and hunger. Clawed beasts crawled over corpses, wings beating against the storm, eyes burning like lanterns in the dark.
"Form up!" Addison shouted, her voice cracking. "No ground given!"
They tightened formation out of instinct, not hope. Shields raised, blades trembling. Alexsei's last two golems lumbered forward, heavy steps shaking the wet ground. Lightning flashed , for a heartbeat, Addison saw her reflection in the puddles: blood-matted hair, wild eyes, her face streaked with mud and grief. She looked like one of them.
The wave hit.
The first impact shattered their line. One golem went down, torn apart by claws. Addison's world became motion strike, parry, pain, scream. Her sword bit through flesh and bone, but every kill felt heavier. A demon lunged, slashing her thigh open. She fell, rolled, stabbed upward. Her blade found its neck. Hot blood splashed across her face.
Time warped into agony and rhythm.
Alexsei's voice roared somewhere behind her, a word of command that sent one of his golems barreling forward to crush a charging demon flat. But the creature's claws tore through its chest, ripping the glowing core free. Alexsei staggered, the psychic backlash almost knocking him out cold.
He fell to one knee, tasting blood. How many times can a man rebuild himself before he becomes more metal than soul? The thought flickered and died as quickly as it came.
Addison fought like a dying flame refusing to go out. Her strikes grew slower, heavier. Her breathing rasped in her throat. How many of us are left? she wondered, parrying a blow that split her palm open. How long before I stop caring whether I'm alive or not?
Her mind drifted even as she killed. Every face that had fought beside her flashed in her head , the hunters who laughed around campfires, the apprentices who still wrote letters home, believing they'd live to send them. Now they were fragments in the mud.
The demons kept coming.
"Fall back!" Alexsei yelled, his voice raw. "To the ridge!"
They retreated in bursts , two steps, strike, one step, strike. Blood soaked the ground so deeply it looked black. A demon crashed into Addison's side, slamming her into the earth. Her vision blurred. Claws dug into her chest plate. She screamed, half from pain, half from fury, as she jammed her sword through its jaw and pushed until she felt bone give.
It fell limp. She rolled free, gasping.
Something inside her broke then , not a bone, not flesh, but the thin line between resolve and despair. The world moved in silence, muffled by exhaustion. Every heartbeat was thunder. Every breath a storm.
She could hear Alexsei shouting, could see the flash of his hammer, but it felt distant, like sound underwater.
What am I even fighting for now? she thought. Honor? Vengeance? Or just to make the dying mean something?
Then her gaze drifted toward the fallen banner , the crest of the Lazarus Guild, torn and soaked in blood. Something inside her steadied. The despair cooled into steel.
She forced herself to stand.
The next demon lunged , a hulking brute with claws like swords — and she met it head-on, twisting beneath its swing and driving her blade through its heart. The impact rattled her bones. She didn't feel it.
Her mind was a storm of ghosts. Every fallen comrade whispered behind her eyes, their voices merging into one final command , Fight. Until the end.
And so she did.
Alexsei saw her through the haze , Addison, bleeding from a dozen wounds, standing against the tide with nothing left but defiance. For the first time in years, the old forger felt something like awe. Not the kind born from legend , but from witnessing the human will stripped raw, unyielding even when broken.
He tightened his grip on his hammer and rose beside her.
The last golem staggered forward, its body cracked, its eyes dim. It fell to its knees beside them, shielding its masters from the next impact before shattering completely. The explosion of shards tore through the nearest demons, buying a few seconds of stillness.
Addison and Alexsei stood amid the wreckage , the storm howling around them, the world drenched in firelight and blood.
Neither spoke.
There was nothing left to say.
Only the sound of rain, and the steady beat of hearts that refused to die.
The storm had quieted to a gray whisper. The battlefield no longer roared; it groaned. Smoke curled from shattered siege wards, and the smell of iron and ash hung thick enough to choke the wind.
Daniel stood at the edge of what had once been a valley. Now it was a grave. His "Domain Authority" still pulsed faintly , the Tower's judgment null and blind to what had unfolded. But that power felt meaningless as his eyes swept across the carnage.
The corpses of demons steamed where the rain met their molten blood. Torn banners sagged under the weight of mud. And there, at the heart of it all, he saw Addison Lazarus and Alexsei Sokolov, still standing amid the ruin. Barely.
Addison's sword dragged at her side, the edge chipped and blackened. Alexsei leaned against the broken spine of a fallen golem, his armor half-melted, his eyes staring but unfocused. Around them lay the remnants of their guild , a circle of silence and loyalty, their bodies shielding their leaders even in death.
Daniel's throat closed. He wanted to speak , to call their names, but the words never came.
Then the air behind him cracked open with light. A transfer gate burst to life, spilling wind and gold sparks across the ruined ground.
Out rode a figure in armor gilded with Solnaran emblems , white and gold beneath a blood-red cloak , her horse rearing high as her voice rang over the storm.
"Make way! Knights of Solnara Cererindu , forward!"
Daniel turned sharply. His eyes widened as the rider's visor lifted.
It was Duches Elleena Laeanna Rothchester the Devine Iron Duchess , known war veteran that joined the 2nd war with her current husband Duke Aereth Rothchester and once, long ago, one of her most trusted allies in safeguarding the east . her left eye had a yellowish-golden color, while her right had a bluish color. Similarly to Daniels eyes . she was blessed with devine power and elemental manipulation and a veteran warrior Behind her, two hundred knights thundered into the field, shields gleaming, formation tight despite the chaos.
For a moment, the sound of their charge revived something long dead in the valley , hope.
They swept across the corpses like a tidal wall, cutting down the stragglers of the demon vanguard. Swords flashed, lances pierced, spells ignited. Where they passed, the ground cleared, the storm parted, and the surviving demons turned to flee into the fog.
But victory felt hollow.
Daniel watched as his mother Duches Elleena dismounted, mud splashing around her greaves. She looked at him , just long enough to understand. Then she turned toward the center of the carnage, her eyes locking on Addison and Alexsei.
"Saints above…" she whispered, stepping forward. Her boots sank into the blood-soaked earth. "They fought this entire wave alone?"
Daniel nodded once, unable to speak.
The knights behind her spread out, checking the wounded, gathering the dead. The clang of armor was soft, reverent. One by one, banners of the fallen Lazarus guild were lifted from the mud — tattered, burned, but still standing.
Addison looked up weakly as Duches Elleena approached. For the first time in hours, there was no sound of battle , only rain striking steel and the distant hiss of dying flames.
"You came late," Addison rasped, her voice breaking. Her mouth twisted into something that might've been a smile. "But… we held the line."
Duches Elleena knelt beside her, one gauntleted hand gripping her shoulder. "And you did what no army could," she said quietly. "You made the demons bleed."
Behind them, Alexsei coughed, blood staining his chin. "We have lost so many ," he muttered. "They died… believing we'd win."
Daniel finally stepped forward. His boots squelched in the wet soil, each step heavier than the last. He stopped beside them, his gaze hard but hollow. "They did win," he said softly. "Because you're still standing."
A long silence fell between them.
The knights of Solnara Cererindu began to erect barriers, tending to survivors, clearing the bodies of the demons into pyres. The rain hissed against the flames as the scent of burning corruption filled the air.
Addison stared into the firelight , at the faces of her fallen. Her heartbeat drummed like war drums in the distance, echoing memories that would never fade. Survival isn't victory, she thought. It's the curse of the living.
Daniel turned his gaze toward the dark horizon, where the clouds pulsed faintly with infernal red. More demons came out of the rift, The battle wasn't done; it had merely paused to let the world remember who it had taken.
"Form lines," Duches Elleena Laeanna Rothchester , A War that gain so many titles and names , she obtain this names because she was a elegant simple and charitable Duchess, she was always seen helping the poor and tending to the sick when she was un married , but even after falling in love with the man she face in a actual battle they were married not because of politics they got married because the Duke was a beast in the battle field , and she was drawn towards him like a moth to a flame. she saw her husband standing o top of demon copses , as demon cower to continue , but these vile creatures had to feed their instinct as they were breed to kill and create fear and pain
Duches Elleena Laeanna Rothchester has many names the one that most people say was ,the Devine Iron Blood Duchess, as she called out. "Recover what you can. We bury them before dawn."
The knights saluted, voices rising in unison , a single cry of unity amid despair.
Daniel looked at the horizon one last time, the light of the pyres glinting in his eyes. His hands trembled , not from fear, but from the unbearable weight of what still lay ahead.
"This war…" he whispered to himself. "It's only just begun."
Daniel finally regain his chaos mana, those who perished, carve their sacrifices into his soul, Daniel saw her mother with 200 knights galloping toward the heart of the battle, those who were still alive found salvation as the 200 war horses rammed and pierce the demons and crush under the war horse hooves ,
Daniel ran.
The world blurred around him , mud, smoke, bodies. The rain no longer cooled his skin; it hissed against the heat radiating from his rage. His boots struck the soaked earth like war drums, and every step carved deeper into the pain that clawed at his chest.
Ahead, towering over the carnage, Thrakir, the Twisted One, rose from a crater of scorched stone and broken corpses. Twenty feet of sinew and bone, its molten ribs pulsed like dying suns, each breath a hiss of steam and sulfur. The demon lord's laughter rumbled through the clouds , a sound like grinding iron.
Daniel's vision tunneled. The screams of dying soldiers blurred into silence. He could still see their faces , Addison's fallen hunters, the knights of Álfheim torn apart, the guild warriors who had trusted him, followed him. Two thousand of them gone. And for thirty minutes , thirty long, useless minutes , he'd been unable to move, his strength drained, his aura broken.
He clenched his teeth so hard he tasted blood. "They died because of me."
His aura erupted.
Flames of plasma spiraled around him, turning the rain into mist. The ground buckled beneath his feet, veins of molten light crawling outward. Every ounce of guilt, every name burned into his soul, became fuel.
Thrakir turned, its bone crown scraping the sky. Its mouth split into a grin of knives. "Ahh… the broken godling returns."
Daniel's reply was a wordless roar.
He launched himself forward, tearing through the distance in an instant , plasma flaring behind him like the tail of a comet. Thrakir raised one clawed hand to block, but Daniel's strike crashed into it with the force of a falling star. Flesh and bone split apart; black blood sprayed in arcs of burning tar.
The impact hurled both of them backward , Daniel skidding across the earth, Thrakir stumbling, molten footprints searing the mud.
"YOU THINK YOU CAN ATONE BY DYING LOUDER?" the demon bellowed, voice shaking the shattered hills.
Daniel's breath came ragged, his vision pulsing red. He steadied himself, tightening his grip on the plasma-forged blade that hummed in his hand. "No," he said, his voice low, trembling with fury. "I'll atone by killing you."
Thrakir lunged. The ground cracked as its claw came down like a meteor. Daniel slid beneath it, the shockwave nearly knocking him off balance. He twisted, driving his blade upward — carving through the demon's forearm. A shriek tore from Thrakir's throat, shaking the storm itself.
Daniel didn't stop. He struck again and again, each swing powered by memories , Romaldo's last stand, Radinka's defiance, Tamara's desperate healing light fading into silence. Their names beat in his heart like war drums.
Then, a sudden blast , Thrakir's tail whipped across the ground, smashing Daniel aside. The world spun; his ribs cracked against stone. He gasped, plasma flickering out for a moment as his strength faltered.
Thrakir loomed over him, shadows coiling around its jagged form. "You are no god," it hissed. "You are meat that forgot to die."
Daniel coughed, blood dripping down his chin. He forced himself up on shaking legs, the light in his eyes burning hotter. "Then let this meat remind you," he growled, voice breaking, "why mortals scare even the divine."
He raised his hand , and the sky answered.
Lightning tore the clouds open as his Domain reignited, plasma converging into a single, spiraling lance of light that dwarfed him. The storm bent around him, drawn into the core of his wrath.
Thrakir roared, charging , and Daniel met him head-on, the ground exploding beneath their clash.
The shockwave leveled the nearby ridge, tearing through what remained of the battlefield. Fire and lightning wrapped around demon and human alike, blinding the world in a flood of white.
And through it all, Daniel screamed , not from fury alone, but from the unbearable grief of a leader who had failed to protect his people, now fighting with every breath to make their sacrifice mean something.
And as the rain of blood continued to fall over the corpses of heroes and monsters alike, the world seemed to hold its breath once more , as if even the heavens mourned the cost of survival.
The ground split under their feet as Daniel and Thrakir met in a blinding collision of force—mana flaring like a storm of suns. The air itself screamed. Lightning tore through the clouds above, painting the battlefield in white fire.
Daniel's first strike cleaved through the Twisted One's shoulder, sending a spray of black ichor that hissed as it hit the ground. But Thrakir didn't flinch. His monstrous claw came swinging down, and Daniel barely twisted aside, his ribs cracking from the shockwave alone.
Every movement was an act of defiance against pain.
Thrakir roared, voice cracking mountains, "You think your rage equals mine, mortal?! I've drowned kingdoms in my hatred!"Daniel's answer came through clenched teeth, his eyes burning violet with overdrawn mana. "Then drown again!"
Their blades and claws met, steel against abyssal bone, sparks and fragments of energy exploding outward. Dozens of lesser demons were ripped apart instantly, bodies shredded by the rippling shockwaves. Knights far behind were forced to shield their eyes as the horizon flashed with unnatural light, like the birth of a second sun.
Thrakir lunged, his spine twisting unnaturally, tail spearing the ground where Daniel stood. Daniel vanished in a burst of plasma and reappeared above him, bringing his sword down with enough force to split the demon's mask in half. The air pressure alone flattened trees for half a mile.
But Thrakir was faster than his size implied. His claws caught Daniel mid-swing, crushing his arm. Bone splintered; Daniel's vision blurred white with agony. The demon lord hurled him across the field, smashing him through a ridge of obsidian stone.
For a heartbeat, silence, only the groan of breaking earth.
Then Daniel rose again. Steam and plasma coiled around his form. His armor had melted off in places; blood streaked his face. His right eye burned with unstable light. His Domain Authority pulsed outward, rejecting the Tower's laws, rewriting them by will alone.
He charged.
This time, the ground itself fled beneath his feet. The collision was cataclysmic, mana storms spiraled upward, pulling nearby demons into the vortex where they disintegrated. Each exchange carved new scars into the world. Craters formed, rivers boiled, and the very air burned from the intensity.
Thrakir's laughter grew manic. "You fight like a god, but you bleed like a man!"
He slammed his claw into Daniel's chest. The sound was sickening. Daniel coughed blood, grabbed Thrakir's arm, and forced it deeper into his own wound, locking the demon in place. "Then let's bleed together."
His sword ignited, Plasma Genesis: Resonance Mode.A surge of radiant energy erupted, engulfing both in a storm of blinding light. For a moment, the battlefield froze, knights and demons alike pausing as a pillar of white fire tore through the clouds.
When it cleared, both were gone.
The shockwave traveled for miles, leveling the nearest ridge and shaking the ground beneath the Twin Peaks. Cracks spread across the sealed cavern that held the Calamity Centipede. From within, a tremor answered, deep, ancient, hungry.
Far behind, Addison, Alexsei, and Daniel's parents fought desperately to hold the line, but even they could feel it, the pulse of something awakening beneath the mountain. The air grew heavy. The sky dimmed.
And somewhere in the smoke and ruin, Daniel staggered to his feet again, blood running from his mouth, his blade glowing faintly in his trembling hand. Thrakir's silhouette loomed ahead, twisted and broken, but still standing.
Both warriors, torn and gasping, raised their weapons once more.The world itself seemed to hold its breath.
The tremors deepened. At first, it was subtle, just a low groan beneath the fractured stone. But soon, the earth began to convulse, each rumble sharper than thunder, each quake splitting the battlefield wider apart. The Twin Peaks glowed faintly red at their bases, molten veins of magma seeping from cracks that had slept for centuries.
Daniel felt it in his bones before he saw it, the air pressure collapsing inward, mana streams twisting violently as something ancient and wrong began to stir.Thrakir grinned through his broken fangs, his laughter guttural and ragged. "You've done it, mortal. You've broken the seal."
The ground behind them erupted.Rock shattered into ash and molten debris as something colossal began to rise, a chitinous segment the size of a fortress tower breaking through the crust. Then another. Then another. The air was choked with dust and mana.
From beneath the mountain came a scream that wasn't a sound, but a vibration in the soul, low, crawling, enough to make even the most hardened knights drop to their knees. The Calamity Centipede, an ancient world-devourer once sealed by seven kingdoms and three archmages, began to awaken.
Its body, hundreds of meters long, coiled beneath the stone like a living continent. Its eyes, dozens of them, lit one by one with crimson light, each burning through the haze like torches from Hell.
Daniel's grip on his sword trembled. "No… no, this wasn't supposed to happen, "Thrakir's laughter shook the air. "Supposed to happen? Boy, this is destiny! You've just freed a god of hunger!"
The demon lord lunged at him again, fury renewed, and their battle resumed, this time atop the crumbling ridges above the beast's awakening form. Each strike they exchanged sent slabs of stone tumbling into the abyss below.
Addison and Alexsei saw the sky crack open in twin arcs of light. Addison screamed into her comm crystal, "Pull back! Everyone, fall back now! The seal's gone, Daniel's triggered the Centipede!"But her voice was drowned by the shriek that followed—a noise so intense it shattered glass across miles, tearing banners and armor alike.
The Calamity Centipede lifted its first head segment, exoskeleton glinting like obsidian mirrors. Lava and corrupted mana poured from its open maw, cascading across the field. Hundreds of demons were incinerated instantly. Even Thrakir faltered, the arrogance in his eyes replaced by unease.
Daniel steadied himself, blood dripping from his chin, and whispered to no one, "If I don't end this now… it'll wake fully."His aura ignited, Plasma Genesis: maximum output." The light around him fractured into spears, his veins glowing like circuits as his life force converted directly into energy.
Thrakir roared, charging through the burning landscape. Daniel met him halfway. Their collision struck with apocalyptic force, the impact echoing like the end of a world.
Below them, the Calamity Centipede's awakening accelerated, the mountain peaks collapsing inward as its body pushed free. The world turned red and black, molten veins crawling up its carapace.
Daniel felt his body failing, every muscle screaming, lungs burning with liquid fire, but he refused to fall. He locked eyes with Thrakir, both of them illuminated by the monster's glow."This… ends now."
He drove his sword through Thrakir's chest, the blade sinking deep until it struck the demon's core. Thrakir screamed, clawing at Daniel's face, ripping into flesh—but Daniel held firm, forcing his energy to surge through the weapon.
Light consumed them both.
The explosion that followed split the valley in half.When the dust settled, Thrakir's body lay in ruin—melted, torn, unmoving. But Daniel was gone. Only the faint, flickering hum of his Domain remained in the air, slowly fading.
The Calamity Centipede, only half-awakened, coiled in confusion, its upper body exposed, its hunger not yet fully realized. For now, it slept again…But the seal was gone.
And every soul on the battlefield knew, the next time it stirred, nothing would stop it.
The world had become noise and pressure. then it happened the ground shook and erupted it was Daniel and Thrakir striking each ohher with their bare hands ,each time their fit clashed, the ground heaved like a living thing trying to crawl away from their fury. The very air cracked, mana shockwaves distorting the space around them, bending light, tearing apart the field that had once been a mountain pass.
Daniel's boots carved deep trenches into the dirt as he parried Thrakir's clawed strike. Sparks erupted, no, flames of raw mana, pure chaos and divine energy grinding against one another like gods in collision. His armor was scorched, half-shattered, blood streaming from his brow, but his eyes burned with grim focus.
Thrakir was changing, his towering, monstrous form now compressing, muscles folding inward, carapace hardening until he stood just a head taller than Daniel. His molten veins pulsed brighter, his movements faster, more deliberate. The demon's lips curled into something that might've been a smile. "Smaller form," he hissed, his voice like molten steel on stone. "More efficient. More human. So I can crush you with your own shape."
Daniel lunged first, fists colliding with claws. The sound was a cannon blast.The ground beneath them exploded outward, the shockwave scattering debris and the corpses of demons like leaves in a storm. They moved too fast for the eye to follow—one moment locked in a grapple, the next hurling each other across craters. Every strike carried intent to kill, and every block came an instant before annihilation.
There was no spellwork, no strategy now, only raw physical force. Magic had become meaningless in the wake of such power.
Daniel's mana burned hotter, chaos energy spiraling around him in a vortex that painted the battlefield in streaks of black and blue flame. The Chaos Engine within his body roared, flooding his veins with energy he could barely control. Pain was constant, he could feel his skin splitting under the strain, mana bleeding from the cracks like light leaking through broken glass.
Thrakir met him with equal savagery. His fists glowed white-hot, every impact like a meteor strike. When Daniel ducked under a swing and countered with a kick, the demon caught his leg and slammed him into the ground hard enough to collapse a ridge. Daniel retaliated by driving his palm against Thrakir's chest, unleashing a point-blank surge of chaos mana that tore through the demon's flesh, flaying it into ribbons.
Their blows carried weight beyond physics—each impact shifted the terrain. Hills flattened. Rivers changed course. The battlefield around the Twin Peaks became a cratered wasteland of molten rock and ash.
And deep beneath it all… the Calamity Centipede stirred again.
Its slumber had been uneasy since the first awakening, and now, with two forces of pure chaos battling atop its resting shell, the seal shattered like thin glass. The ancient monster's body twitched beneath the ruins, segments cracking open, mandibles grinding stone to dust.
From the depths, Melgil's ancient spell circle, the one she had forged with her dying mana to bind the creature, flickered to life again. Runes burst from the earth, wrapping around the centipede's enormous shell, glowing, pulsing, fighting back.
But something was wrong. The runes, instead of restraining, began to react to the chaos energy pouring from Daniel and Thrakir. The spell warped—its containment field twisting into a hungry vortex of unstable power. It wasn't holding the creature anymore. It was targeting them.
Daniel felt the pull first, mana threads coiling around his body, dragging him toward the glowing fissures beneath their feet."What, no, not now!" he roared, trying to break free, but his chaos aura only made the magic hungrier. Thrakir's grin widened, fangs glinting. "You feed it… the spell wants the strongest source of chaos."
He lunged again, smashing Daniel into the ground. The moment Daniel's blood hit the glowing symbols, the earth screamed. Lightning-like fissures tore through the battlefield, bright crimson light spilling upward like rivers of molten magic. The ground convulsed, then split open entirely.
Below them, the Calamity Centipede uncoiled. Its carapace gleamed like obsidian drenched in magma. Every movement was a quake; every breath, a storm. It was awake again, truly awake this time.
Daniel staggered to his feet, chaos energy roaring uncontrollably around him. He could barely see through the haze of heat and mana distortion. Thrakir wiped the blood from his mouth and whispered, almost reverently, "Behold… the God of Devouring strike."
Then the centipede's first eye opened, a red sun burning beneath the world.
Its gaze fell upon them both.
The air turned to fire. And the true nightmare began.