Chapter 78: Sheer Will
The princess charged in to support him, her hands weaving through the air as she summoned radiant streaks of light, condensing them into spears of pure energy that she launched toward the old man.
But he was faster....so much faster. With one sweeping motion, he dissipated the attack like mist and spun into a brutal kick that landed squarely against her side. The blow lifted her off her feet and flung her across the temple, her body slamming into a fractured wall that crumbled around her as she collapsed into the rubble.
Nyx didn’t rise.
Dust and smoke blanketed the temple as Lucas staggered forward, coughing, blood on his lips, his limbs trembling. The sacred temple was no more. It had become a battleground, a shattered echo of what it once was. Stained glass lay in splinters beneath their feet, the altar cracked and ruined, sacred carvings scorched into fading embers.
The once-holy ground trembled beneath the force of two powers clashing...one overwhelming, the other desperate and burning with stolen strength.
But outside, something had changed.
The wall that once roared with monstrous howls and relentless pounding was now unnaturally silent. The soldiers who still stood atop the battlements looked down in stunned confusion. The tide had paused, the flood frozen mid-charge. The beasts, those ravenous horrors that had clawed and climbed and killed...now stood as though turned to stone. Their limbs twitched occasionally, but none moved. Not a single growl echoed. Not a single talon scratched.
The soldiers exchanged fearful glances, unsure of what had stilled the tide, uncertain whether it was a trick or some divine intervention.
By absorbing the crystal, Lucas had become its living embodiment. Its essence pulsed through his veins now, its frequency embedded in his very soul. The beasts, once tethered to the artifact that drew them like moths to flame, now responded to a new beacon. Their master was no longer crystal nor energy...it was him.
The temple grounds were now nothing but debris and flame, the sacred stones reduced to a scorched battlefield littered with cracked marble, broken relics, and the bitter scent of burning incense. Lucas stood in the heart of it all, his robes torn and stained with blood and soot, his breathing ragged as he tried to steady himself. The crystalline energy he had absorbed still pulsed faintly within him, but it was like a flickering candle before a storm...barely enough to keep him upright, let alone fight back.
The old man, face contorted with rage, showed no signs of exhaustion. His every movement was laced with deadly precision and mastery forged through decades of cultivation.
Flames licked at his arms, he was no mere cultivator. He was a force of nature honed into flesh, and Lucas had become the singular obstruction between him and whatever dark goal the crystal had served.