Chapter 245: EX 245.True Destruction
Leon wasn’t heading into the forest for leisure, he had a purpose. Practicing Destruction anywhere near Shantel was far too dangerous. The city had only just begun to recover, and even the shockwave from his earlier test had rattled the streets, shaking rebuilt homes.
’I don’t want to thrash a place they just rebuilt,’ he thought grimly as he moved deeper into the Tyrant’s Forest. He needed space, wide and open, where the sheer force of his new affinity couldn’t endanger anyone.
After covering a perfect distance, Leon stopped at a clearing, it was a barren ground with no trees, no cover, just raw earth stretching in every direction. His blue eyes scanned the terrain before he nodded. "This will do."
And so, the practice began.
Moments later, violent detonations echoed across the forest, one after another. Thunderous blasts rolled over the land, shaking the ground, scarring beasts and monsters alike. Creatures fled in panic, the scent of raw power driving them from their dens. The forest itself seemed to hold its breath, unwilling to disturb the trial of the Void Spawn.
Time passed. Finally, the barrage ended. Leon stood in the center of the scarred clearing, his chest rising and falling, sweat trickling down his bare skin. He clenched his hand, staring at the faint wisps of black flame flickering in his palm.
"So... that’s how it works."
Understanding dawned on him. The reason Destruction first appeared as a harmless flame before becoming catastrophic was now clear. By the name alone it was clear that the affinity wasn’t about creating anything, it was about erasing.
The flame itself was only a trigger. When Leon deactivated it, the act of ending it became the embodiment of its concept, destruction. That single action unraveled the space around it, tearing into reality. The black sphere that followed wasn’t his creation, not truly. It was the aftereffect, the universe struggling to reconcile what had been erased. Energy burst forth not from Leon’s hand but from the wound in reality itself.
He exhaled slowly, his eyes narrowing in both awe and wariness. "Destruction doesn’t create. It only destroys. And the longer I let it linger before ending it... the stronger the detonation becomes."
It made sense now why the initial flame seemed so harmless. It held potential, but remained silent.
Still, there were limits. He had tested enough to feel it. The explosions couldn’t grow infinitely strong. Otherwise, all he’d need to do was keep a flame burning for a year, then carry it into demon territory and end it under their noses. The resulting blast might not only kill the demons but obliterate the world itself.
"But maybe..." Leon’s lips curved slightly, a dangerous gleam in his eye. "As the tier rises, those limits won’t matter."
He looked down at his right hand, the same hand that had carried the harmless flame, the same hand that had torn a hole in reality itself. His fingers curled slowly into a fist.
"In this hand..."
A shiver ran down his spine. But it wasn’t fear. No, what stirred inside him was pure, intoxicating excitement.
****
Back in the manor courtyard, Racheal’s breaths came sharp and steady. Her bow was lowered, string drawn only a fraction, the weapon trembling faintly with the residue of constant use. Sweat darkened her bra top until it clung like a second skin, and her shorts hugged tight against her upper thighs, proof of the hours she’d poured into training.
"Whew..." she exhaled, letting the sound slip between her lips like steam venting from a pressure valve.
A metallic clank broke the silence. Then came the hiss of gears, and in the next moment, the air split with a series of fwssh, fwssh, fwssh—multiple wooden targets launched skyward in a rapid scatter.
Racheal’s body moved before her mind caught up. She raised her bow, and five arrows flickered into her grip from her inventory, nocked against the string in one seamless motion. The bow thrummed, arrows flashing out like streaks of silver. Even before they struck, before the first target splintered apart, she had drawn another shot and loosed it instantly.
Wood cracked and shattered, shards raining down across the training ground. Every target lay broken, pieces scattered across the courtyard tiles. But she didn’t pause. The rhythm consumed her, targets launched, arrows released, wood exploding into dust and fragments. The frequency became faster, sharper and deadlier each round.
Then the machine clanked again. This time, only one lonely target burst into the air.
Racheal loosed her volley, five arrows again. Four stabbed uselessly into the ground, only one clipping the target mid-flight. She lowered her bow, eyes narrowing at the wasted shafts sticking upright from the dirt like accusations.
Her breath hitched. And before she could stop it, a memory rose unbidden.
Her sister. Elaine.
****
"Star, an arrow is an essential tool to an elf. It should never be wasted."
The voice was calm yet firm, belonging to a tall elf with silver-green hair that glimmered under the moonlight. She stood with her bow in hand, watching a younger Racheal who looked no older than thirteen.
"But they’re just arrows," Racheal protested, puffing out her cheeks in defiance. Her smaller hands clutched her bow, the string slack as if refusing discipline.
Elaine shook her head slowly. "These arrows cost a lot. Every one wasted is a loss."
Racheal huffed, eyes narrowing. "This isn’t about arrows at all. You’re just being a cheapskate."
For a moment, silence hung between them, then Elaine’s lips curved into a shameless smile, breaking the tension with ease. "Alright, that’s enough training for today. Go on, get ready for sleep."
That night lingered in Racheal’s memory like a wound that never healed. Elaine wasn’t just her sister. After their parents’ deaths, she was the only family Racheal had left, the single pillar of warmth and strength in a world that turned cold eyes on her because of her birth. Elaine had been her shield, her comfort, her entire world.
But everything changed that night.
Racheal remembered lying in her small bed, already drifting to sleep, when heavy knocks echoed through the house. Visitors, cloaked in the authority of the great tree. The Guardians of Yggdrasil.
They came not for her. They came for Elaine.
And with solemn faces, they delivered the words that shattered Racheal’s fragile world.
Elaine had been chosen as a candidate for the ruler of Yggdrasil.
That was the night Racheal’s heart began to break.