The world held its breath.
Kael stood at the heart of the storm, masked, cloak snapping like a banner of war. Around him, the two hundred mana-absorbing golems glowed as one—an army of living conduits, their runes pulsing in synchronized rhythm, each beat of their cores funneling rivers of raw mana into him.
The legendary staff thrummed in his hands, vibrating with unbearable tension, as if even it feared what it was about to channel.
"SS-Tier… Creational Magic," Veloria whispered in awe, trembling despite herself. "That's impossible… Only the gods—"
But Kael's voice cut through the roar of gathering energy.
"Creation lies not only in birth… but in the power to end."
His eyes burned behind the mask. His heart thundered. And then, as if the heavens themselves answered, the rune-circle spread across the sky above the mining capital, a vast and radiant sigil of layered geometries that dwarfed the plaza below.
Lightning lashed through the storm clouds. The ground trembled beneath their feet. The nobles fell to their knees. Even the mighty Backbone could not speak.
The turtle abomination raised its head, abyssal flame swelling in its maw, but for the first time… it hesitated. Instinct screamed that this was not prey. This was death incarnate.
Kael lifted the staff high, and the golems' glow peaked, blinding white. His voice thundered across the capital, a name never before spoken:
"Stellar Judgement: Eclipse of Eternity!"
The sky ignited.
From the vast sigil above, a sphere of molten starlight was born, blazing white with threads of void-black flame coiling within it. It descended slowly, majestically, a miniature sun cloaked in the shadows of the void. As it fell, arcs of black lightning scoured the earth, splitting cobblestones, shattering glass, and sending shockwaves that toppled walls.
The turtle roared, unleashing its abyssal breath in defiance, but the beam shattered against the descending sun like mist before fire. Its shell glowed red, cracks spider-webbing across its surface as the creature shrieked, its massive legs thrashing helplessly.
"Impossible… It's burning through its resistance…" Veloria gasped, clutching her chest as her eyes reflected the apocalyptic sight.
The sphere touched the turtle's shell.
BOOOOOOOM!
The world tore open.
Light consumed everything—streets, towers, even the clouds themselves. The sheer force blasted shockwaves across the mining capital, hurling soldiers and nobles to the ground. The turtle's scream cut across the roar, high and agonized, as its shell fractured entirely, chunks shattering off like meteors. Its abyssal core—once hidden in the depths of its chest—was laid bare.
The sun collapsed inward, condensing into a single spear of white void-fire that pierced straight through the creature's heart.
SKRRREEEEEHHHH!
The turtle abomination convulsed, violet ichor spraying across the plaza, its colossal body writhing one final time before it collapsed in a thunderous crash. The ground quaked. Dust rose like a funeral shroud.
And then—silence.
Nothing but the crackle of fire, the hiss of dissipating mana, and the stunned gasps of thousands who had witnessed a godlike execution.
Kael lowered the staff. The golems dimmed, smoke rising from their cores. His cloak hung heavy on his shoulders, and even his steady breath carried the weight of exhaustion.
But his eyes never left the east.
Because there… where the turtle's abyssal flame had first struck earlier in the battle, the air rippled unnaturally. The cobblestones cracked in a widening circle. And then—
Vwoooom—
A gate began to open.
Not a Riftpoint. Not a natural tear. Something far worse. Abyssal energy poured through in waves, dark and suffocating, staining the sky a shade of violet far deeper than before.
The Backbone froze, realizing the truth.
"This… this wasn't just a summoning," Elayne whispered, horror-struck. "It was a beacon."
Kael's eyes narrowed behind the mask. His suspicion, now confirmed, felt like cold iron in his veins. Gravemont hadn't just planned an assassination. He had invited something—or someone—to step through.
The gate widened. The air howled.
And Kael knew with certainty—
—the true battle had only just begun.
The eastern mountains cracked like splitting bone.
From the wound in the world, the gate bled shadows. A tide of abyssal energy surged outward, carrying with it the fetid stench of corruption and the howls of creatures that had never known the sun.
Then—one after another—they came.
At first, the shadows moved like a rolling wave, but as the veil of darkness thinned, the true horror became visible.
Abyss-born. Thousands of them. Their bodies twisted mockeries of men and beasts—flesh interwoven with obsidian carapace, eyes burning violet, fangs dripping corrosive ichor. Their screeches shook the mountainside. Their claws dug furrows into the earth.
Thirty thousand.
Behind them, towering shapes emerged, each one radiating dread. Sixty Abyssal Elites. These were no mindless beasts but armored horrors wielding weapons crafted of the void, their forms vaguely humanoid yet wrong in every proportion—limbs too long, jaws unhinged, wings beating against a sky that recoiled from their presence.
And then came the titans.
Twenty colossal figures stepped through the gate, each one a Boss-rank abyssal monster. One bore a skeletal frame the size of a fortress, its ribs glowing with molten corruption. Another was a bloated serpent with a crown of black thorns, scales oozing liquid night. Others resembled dragons, ogres, and grotesque parodies of divine beasts—yet all radiated the same oppressive aura of annihilation.
The earth itself whimpered beneath their march.
The nobles screamed. The soldiers broke ranks, pale and trembling. The merchants who had come to celebrate Foundation Day collapsed, many fainting outright.
Even the Backbone stood silent.
Marshal Cyras, blade in hand, clenched his teeth hard enough to draw blood. Countess Elayne's face drained of all color, her usual calm cracking into raw fear. Veloria, Archmage of the Empire, whispered words no one had ever thought she would speak:
"This… this is hopeless."
Her legendary staff trembled in her hands.
The barriered bunker shook deep underground, where Sara's flames cocooned the princesses in warmth. She felt it too—the endless abyss pouring into the world. For a heartbeat, even she doubted Kael could hold back such a tide.
But on the surface…
He did not falter.
Kael's masked figure stood unmoving, cloak whipping in the storm of corruption that radiated from the gate. His hands tightened around the staff. His shadow stretched unnaturally long across the plaza, as if drawn toward the approaching horde.
And then—
His eyes opened fully.
Twin flames, blacker than night itself, blazed within the mask. Not ordinary flame, but fire that devoured even light, fire that carried the weight of death and eternity. The ground cracked beneath his feet. Air distorted, warping around him as though the world itself bent beneath his will.
The nobles gasped. The Backbone froze mid-breath. Even the abyss-born at the forefront of the horde hesitated, their screeches faltering as something older, deeper, and infinitely more terrifying than themselves turned its gaze upon them.
Kael's voice, low and steady, rolled like thunder across the capital.
"So… this is what you bring against me, Gravemont. Against my people."
The glow in his eyes deepened, threads of black flame coiling upward like a crown of shadows. Each step he took forward echoed like a war drum, steady and unyielding.
"This city will not fall."
The abyss answered with a chorus of roars, thirty thousand voices shrieking in defiance. The sky bled violet as the twenty bosses lifted their heads, their howls tearing at the very air.
But none could silence the voice that came next.
"Then I will burn even the abyss itself."
The black flames surged higher, a pillar of consuming fire that split the storm clouds overhead. The very Null Spell dome shattered remnants of its fragments still lingering, unable to contain what had awakened within him.
Veloria's knees buckled. "That… That is not mortal power…"
Harrond clenched his fists, awe in his iron-hard eyes.
And the army of the abyss—thirty thousand strong—took its first steps toward the capital.