The roar was cataclysmic.
The explosion, long ago orchestrated and inevitable, finally tore through the space where Baal had stood. Under the weight of that colossal force, the very ground began to dissolve, inch by agonizing inch.
Inside the body of the Hellspawn, the fundamental laws of reality buckled and clashed. The protective shells crafted by the Barbarians—those who had cast aside their physical forms to create them—shattered like the husks of firecrackers under the pressure.
The thunderous booming was incessant, a relentless barrage akin to an eternal storm. In the face of such a predestined catastrophe, no soul could maintain their composure. The world as they knew it was ending.
Raekor stood before the remains of a Crusher, lifting her head. Her eyes, sharp and searching, traced the source of the blast. She knew that from this moment on, everything rested on the shoulders of Bul-Kathos.
"Can the living truly change anything?" she whispered, a shadow falling over her features. "Or are we destined to change nothing at all?"
Though the shockwave's path had been constrained by the sacrifice of Qual-Kehk, the power that had breached those limits was still absolute. Arreat, the Holy Mountain, and the city that clung to its slopes were destined to become nothing more than ruins.
"The power of Fate? Truly a curiosity."
Zoltun Kulle appeared at Raekor's side as if out of thin air. His gaze drifted, seemingly indifferent, toward the mangled corpse of the Crusher on the ground.
"Get lost," Raekor spat, her voice cold as ice.
The power within her began to boil once more. No one who understood what the Barbarians had lost in this "Rift" could possibly be in a good mood.
Kanai's sacrifice. Volrusk's sacrifice.
These were wounds filled with regret. Even though Raekor had rarely seen eye-to-eye with Volrusk, her heart remained filled with deep-seated reverence for the Immortal King. Volrusk might have been a man who hid his cowardice behind the loudest, most arrogant displays, but Raekor had seen the truth of his actions. She had seen what he had given.
"You lot always did find me loathsome," Kulle said, a hint of genuine annoyance in his voice. "Am I not more worthy of your respect than that coward, Volrusk?"
It was impossible to tell what Kulle truly wanted from her. He was never one for superfluous actions; his words were always laden with profound, cryptic warnings.
"You?" Raekor looked at him with the most contemptuous gaze she could muster.
She braced her arms before her, and her legendary set—the armor of her legacy—began to resonate with her indomitable spirit, radiating a terrifying pressure.
"Noble souls live for others. Do you people truly have no desires of your own?" Kulle idly picked at his fingernails—heaven only knew what kind of filth could accumulate under the nails of a ghost. Perhaps it was merely a display of his characteristic nonchalance.
"I desire for you to get lost!"
Raekor's voice rose to a roar. Her fury manifested behind her as the spectral image of a Great Bull. Finally, a weapon appeared in her hand.
Fleshrender.
It was an axe that offered no magical enhancements to her skills. It was simply hard. It wasn't even particularly sharp.
"Fleshrender? That old toy you used for hunting?" Kulle floated closer, leaning his head in until his face was practically pressed against the cold edge of the axe. He showed no fear that she might swing it and take his head as if he were common prey. "I remember back then, you'd carry that over your shoulder with the heads of beasts dangling from the blade."
Kulle's incessant prattle continued, and Raekor's expression darkened further. The shockwave of the explosion had finally reached them. Buildings were vanishing bit by bit, stripped away to reveal the bare, jagged rock of the Holy Mountain that had once been buried under eternal snow.
The other Ancestral Spirits had already departed, leaving only those who still had duties to perform. Kulle used his near-infinite mana to manifest a simple barrier, holding the brunt of the shockwave at bay. He wasn't finished speaking.
"You wish to know... about Fate?" Raekor asked, resting the Fleshrender on her shoulder.
Behind her, the spectral bull began to paw at the earth, restless and agitated. Its head was lowered, its horns—scarred by a thousand blades—levelled at the mage.
"Of course," Kulle replied, his power finally beginning to surge. "You are Fate's only true believer. Or perhaps... its toy."
-------------------------------
I've already uploaded 40 chapters of this story on Patreon!
If you enjoy it, come check out the latest chapters in advance.
Here's the link:
[email protected]/DaoistRoeoNQ
Thank you so much for your support!!!
"And If you're enjoying it, drop a Power Stone for me!"