Chapter 393
The explosion ripped through the battlefield, sending shockwaves rippling outwards. Gorgar was thrown backwards, his thick hide scorched and smoking. The Titan’s Crucible itself began to destabilize, massive chunks of rock breaking away and falling into the chasms below.
Drakthar, using the chaos as cover, didn’t grab Zythera. Instead, he kicked her towards a particularly unstable section of the collapsing ground, a cruel parting gift. "A fitting end," he muttered, before leaping from one crumbling rock to another, prioritizing his own escape. He would use the chaos and the ogre’s rage as a distraction, leaving Zythera to her fate. The explosion had bought him time, and that was all that mattered.
Gorgar, though severely wounded and disarmed, was far from defeated. He staggered to his feet, his eyes burning with rage. The loss of his halberd and the destabilization of his domain had pushed him to his limits. He roared, a sound that echoed through the collapsing battlefield, a promise of brutal retribution. The very air around him began to crackle with energy, a sign that he was about to unleash the full extent of his power, a desperate, final act of defiance.
Zythera, abandoned and injured, scrabbled desperately at the crumbling rock face. Her broken leg screamed in protest with every movement, but the ground beneath her was giving way. With a final, agonizing lurch, the section she clung to broke free, sending her tumbling towards the darkness of the chasm below. A shriek tore from her throat, a mix of pain and terror, quickly swallowed by the roar of the collapsing battlefield and Gorgar’s enraged bellow.
Drakthar, meanwhile, was making good his escape. He bounded across the crumbling terrain with practiced ease, his multiple limbs providing exceptional balance and agility. He paid no heed to Zythera’s fate; she was no longer his concern. His only focus was survival. He could sense the raw power radiating from Gorgar, a wave of destructive energy that threatened to engulf everything in its path. He needed to get clear, and quickly.
Gorgar, oblivious to Zythera’s demise, his rage focused solely on the remaining demon, gathered the remnants of his power. The air around him crackled with raw energy, the very stones trembling beneath his feet. The chaotic vortex of debris that had once been his Titan’s Crucible was now gone, replaced by a dense sphere of pure, destructive force. It pulsed with an inner light, a miniature sun of contained rage and despair.
Drakthar, glancing back, saw the horrifying spectacle. The sphere was expanding rapidly, consuming everything in its path. He knew he couldn’t outrun it. He had to find a way to escape its blast radius, or he would be obliterated.
Desperation fueled his actions. He spotted a narrow crack in the space created by their combined domain, barely wide enough for him to squeeze through. It was a risky move; the fissure could collapse at any moment, trapping him inside. But it was his only chance.
He lunged towards the fissure, forcing his way through the narrow opening. Jagged rocks scraped against his chitinous armor, tearing at his flesh, but he pushed onward, driven by the primal instinct to survive. He squeezed through just as the sphere of energy reached the opening, the intense heat searing his back.