Chapter 423: The Thunderhoof Stampede
Boom.
The sky cracked open with a roar, shaking the foundations of the earth. The air quaked as thunder rolled like an angry god beating a war drum. The atmosphere grew heavy—so heavy, it felt like the pressure could crush bones and shatter organs. Bolts of lightning streaked across the clouds like divine spears, falling in relentless waves.
Two figures—Gilded Blaze and Vogemoth—staggered backward, their beastkin instincts flaring. Even at War God-rank strength, the sight above terrified them. As beast-folk, they feared heavenly lightning. It was a deep-seated terror, woven into their bloodline.
"Is... someone going through an Elysium Ascension?" they both thought, nearly in unison.
They had only recently advanced to War God-rank themselves, and the memory of their own tribulation was still raw. But now, seeing this overwhelming storm erupt without warning, they forgot the earlier battle, forgot the explosion, forgot everything—except their instinct to survive.
Overhead, the thunderclouds writhed like boiling tar. Giant orbs of lightning, each the size of a boulder, began raining down from the sky. They weren’t just random discharges—they were aimed, directed, and moving with purpose.
Ethan stood near the center of the chaos, looking up.
Ormund, still hovering above, froze mid-descent, every hair on his massive beast body standing on end. Within the swirling clouds above him, a massive obsidian beast emerged—a Qilin, easily a hundred feet tall, its body crackling with energy. Its four hooves danced on the thunderclouds like they were solid ground.
Its eyes gleamed. "You brat! You dared slap my ass? Let’s see how you like this!"
It reared back, then galloped across the sky. Each step sent a fresh barrage of lightning spheres plummeting toward the earth like divine judgment.
"Ormund! MOVE!" Ethan shouted. In a flash, he waved his hand to dismiss their tent, then slung Uncle Jed over his shoulder like a sack of grain. Dana, wide-eyed with terror, dropped low and grabbed onto Ormund’s thick fur.
Ormund’s fur bristled as he let out a grunt. With a violent shake and a powerful flap of his wings, he shot forward in a blur, racing toward the edge of the storm. As he flew, a sonic boom cracked the air behind him.