Chapter 589: Killing Commendments
At the far edge of the labyrinthine maze, the dense forest paths finally gave way to an expansive plain—a wide, open stretch of jagged stone and wind-swept grass, silent save for the sound of battle tearing through the air.
At the center of this battlefield stood a massive blue-colored door, glowing with a strange, otherworldly light. The door pulsed with energy, its surface swirling like a dimensional portal, clear and gleaming like liquid sapphire—the gateway to the next stage of the Citadel.
But no one could approach it. Not yet. Because at that very moment, an intense, all-consuming battle was raging across the field like a tempest.
At the forefront of the chaos, King Magnar, Kate, and Klaus were locked in a fierce, desperate struggle against none other than Drevon, who stood at the heart of the storm like a dark god of war. Every swing of his blade, every pulse of his energy sent tremors through the earth.
Despite being outnumbered, Drevon’s strength was monstrous. His strikes were sharp, his movement precise, and his mastery of his concept was higher. Even with all three of them working in perfect unison, they were clearly being pushed back.
Klaus was bloodied, Kate panting with exhaustion, and Magnar’s armor cracked and scorched. But Drevon showed no signs of faltering. He fought like a man possessed—with cold hatred, sharp cunning, and brutal efficiency.
Meanwhile, not far from them, the rest of Magnar’s chosen group was engaged in their own desperate battle against the infamous Three Commandments of Monarch. Garil, the Commandment of Wild, fought with primal fury, his form half-covered in beast-like essence as he tore through the battlefield with savage claws and explosive bursts of earth energy.
Loxus, the Commandment of Lightning, moved like a storm given form, his body cloaked in crackling arcs of blue electricity that lashed out with every movement. And then there was Reiner, the Commandment of Spear, whose thrusts tore through the air with pinpoint precision and frightening power—his spear almost invisible to the eye as he struck with relentless rhythm.
Facing them were Ralph, Garrison, Nortan, James Garfield, and the others. They were holding their own—for now—but the ground beneath their feet was stained with blood, and the air stung with pressure. It was a battle of equals, of titans clashing on ancient stone.
And off to the side, far removed from the fury, Silus Xuan sat calmly atop a boulder, his legs crossed, his face indifferent, even sneering as he watched the chaos unfold like a spectator at a show he already knew the ending to.