Chapter 81: Rain of Judgment
Kael’s sword whistled through the air, silver steel burning with layered enchantments, aimed for the broken boy kneeling in bloodied snow.
Lan’s hand rose—shaking, fingers trembling like snapped bone trying to knit.
He whispered, barely audible:
"I didn’t want to use this yet."
The heavens tore open.
The clouds above, blackened with thunder and old wrath, cracked with a thunderclap that silenced the battlefield. From the ruptured sky, something descended—not light, not fire—but the shape of judgment made into shadow.
[Rain of Dark Judgment.]
Thousands of obsidian spears fell like screaming stars. Each one etched with ancient runes that flickered red, trailing lines of dark Qi behind them. They rained like the wrath of dead gods, sharp enough to pierce steel, hot enough to melt plate.
They blooted the sun and made daylight night.
The first impact sent a quake through the valley. The second evaporated three tents and the men within them. The third splintered the ground into a jagged hellscape of glass and ash.
Screams rose. Then died.
Soldiers were impaled mid-charge. Others simply disappeared—burned into smoke by the heat of the Qi. Shields didn’t help. Barriers shattered. Even high-circle mages cried out in futile desperation, trying to ward off the rain with fire, ice, stone.