Chapter 79: The Magma Sovereign and the Gravity of the Abyss
The smell of ozone and dried blood was suddenly eclipsed by a cold, metallic stench, the unmistakable residue of spatial collapse. The healers of the Morningstar legion, moving with a synchronization born of urgency, had managed to stabilize Lirael's chest, sealing the dimensional fracture before the nothingness could consume her heart. They had carried her away on a jade stretcher, pale and with her right arm frozen in a black necrosis, but alive.
The main arena of Skull Rock was left in an expectant silence. The ten thousand disciples in the stands were not roaring; they were murmuring. The reverential terror that Violeta had instilled in their souls had left them mute. They had understood that, in this tournament, being a millimeter away from absolute annihilation wasn't an accident; it was the norm.
In the VIP box, Lord Varian remained standing, his hands resting on the stone railing that his own Qi had involuntarily frosted over. His Emperor's eyes, which had seen entire kingdoms fall, were fixed on the blood that still stained the center of the coliseum.
"She didn't kill her," murmured Lord Varian, his voice low and devoid of its former imperial arrogance. "The Patriarch stopped the collapse through the arena's arrays. But the precision to bring a combatant of her own rank exactly to the edge of non-existence... is monstrous."
Saira Varian, at his side, swallowed hard, feeling a lump in her throat.
"If Sequence 2 has that destructive power, father... what kind of abomination is Sequence 1?"
Lord Varian did not reply. His gaze drifted toward the main balcony, searching for answers in the figure of the clan leader.
Samael Morningstar was not paying attention to the arena's repairs. The Patriarch held little Celeste resting against his broad chest. The baby with silver-blue hair, enveloped in her characteristic blue-violet mist, babbled happily, her tiny hands trying to catch one of Samael's black locks. The image was a contrast so brutal and surreal that it was disorienting. The man whose will could crush armies, the tyrant who had ordered this carnage, smiled with absolute paternal warmth, adjusting his daughter's blanket so the desert wind wouldn't bother her.
Seraphina, standing beside him, watched him with deep devotion. Her majestic presence remained unaltered.
"The legion is at the edge of its sanity, husband," Seraphina commented, her voice a serene melody. "The terror of space has paralyzed them. They need to remember that the clan doesn't only destroy in the silence of the void. They need to remember the fire of leadership."
Lilith, standing tall with her elegant and maternal bearing, nodded. Her intense dark red eyes shone under the sun, and her white hair with silver and reddish streaks waved gently. There wasn't a single trace of frailty in her; she was the unbreakable matriarch of war.
"It is the turn of the King of the Vanguard," affirmed Lilith. "But the opponent he has drawn will not fall to noble speeches. Kael will face pure resentment."
The herald, upon receiving the visual signal from the arena guards, raised the immense bone war horn.
BOOOOOMMM!
The sound broke the sepulchral silence, vibrating the foundations of the fortress.
"Eighth match!" bellowed the herald, his Qi-injected voice rekindling the fire in the spectators' blood. "The darkness that devours the weight of the world, against the first sword of our Empire! Sequence 16, Nylas Morningstar, against Sequence 1, Kael Morningstar!"
A colossal roar, an outburst of pure fanaticism, shook the coliseum. The lethargy of terror vanished, replaced by martial adoration. Rank 1 was going to fight!
The south doors opened slowly. The sound of the steel hinges seemed muffled, as if the air itself refused to vibrate.
Nylas Morningstar entered the arena.
There were no explosions or brilliant auras. There was a physical oppression. As Nylas advanced, the disciples in the front rows of the stands began to cough, grabbing their throats. The gravity around the combatant was so distorted that even breathing near him required a conscious effort.
Nylas was of average height, one meter seventy-five, but his presence filled the coliseum like a toxic cloud. His hair was the color of a dark, sickly, and heavy miasma. His eyes, a dark brown that bordered on absolute black, scanned the arena with sadistic boredom. He was taciturn, calculating, and deeply malicious. He didn't need to speak to intimidate; his mere existence crushed the hope of his enemies. With every step he took, the jade beneath his boots crunched, unable to bear the micro-fluctuations of weight that his Stage 4 core emitted.
At the north end, the iron doors were thrown wide open with an authority that brooked no resistance.
Kael Morningstar crossed the threshold.
The crowd's roar reached its climax. Kael was the born leader of the golden generation. His dark red hair whipped in an invisible wind generated by his own power, and his golden eyes shone with the ferocity of a lion and the nobility of a king. His expression was serious, stoic, but those who knew him—especially Nylas—knew that behind that facade of responsibility beat the heart of a battle fanatic, an impulsive warrior who lived for the clash of steel.
He wore dark red and black combat robes. In his right hand, he held Whisper of the North, his sword seed, still sheathed in a matte steel scabbard. His mere presence seemed to raise the temperature of the arena, dispelling the icy oppression that Violeta had left behind.
Both contenders stopped thirty meters apart.
Nylas tilted his head, his miasma hair falling over his face. He didn't smile, but a dark malice gleamed in his nearly black pupils.
"The glorious Rank 1," whispered Nylas. His voice didn't travel through the air, but was pushed by a gravitational pulse straight into Kael's ears. "Always standing so tall. Always looking down from above. Let's see if your nobility serves you at all when your knees snap under the weight of the abyss."
Kael did not change his expression. His golden eyes locked onto the dark energy beginning to ooze from Nylas's pores.
"Gravity is not an excuse for cruelty, Nylas," Kael replied, his tone calm but firm as a mountain. "You have immense power, but you drown in your own resentment. Today I will teach you to walk upright, even if I have to break your bones to do it."
Nylas let out a dismissive click of his tongue.
"Begin."
DOOONG!
The gong marked the start of the combat, and Kael Morningstar didn't waste a single millisecond on pleasantries.
His thumb pushed the guard of Whisper of the North, unsheathing barely a centimeter of the blade. Kael lowered his center of gravity and, in a movement that defied visual perception, activated his ultimate Sword Art for lightning assaults.
[Phantom Gale Cut].
Kael didn't run; he seemed to teleport. His drawing speed synchronized perfectly with a specific Qi vibration that nullified all sound waves around him. The "click" of the steel leaving the scabbard and the whistle of his body tearing through the air were completely eliminated.
To the spectators and to Lord Varian in the VIP box, the world went absolutely silent for a blink. The only thing Nylas saw was a silver flash crossing the arena toward his throat. The philosophy of the technique was terrifying: sound is slower than intention. By the time Nylas heard the slash, his head should already be rolling on the ground.
But Nylas was Sequence 16, and his element wasn't speed, but the anchor of reality itself.
In the fraction of a second when Kael's silver flash entered the critical four-meter range, Nylas's dark eyes narrowed. He didn't try to block with his bare hands. He didn't try to dodge an attack he couldn't hear.
He simply expanded his will and activated his debilitating technique.
[Mercury Heaviness].
The four-meter area around Nylas underwent a radical change in its physical laws. The specific gravity upon Kael's feet multiplied.
Kael, traveling at supersonic speed, suddenly felt as if he had plunged into a pool of thick mud. His combat boots, which weighed less than a kilo, suddenly felt as if they were made of solid lead anchored to the planet's core. The inertia of his charge crashed against the force of gravity. The Phantom Gale Cut, designed to be fluid and uninterrupted, stumbled.
Kael didn't fall—his physical strength and Stage 4 Qi were colossal—but the silent attack lost its phantom quality. Sound returned with a terrifying crunch as Kael's boot cracked the jade floor from the sudden extreme weight.
That half-second delay was all Nylas needed.
Seeing the blade of Whisper of the North slowed to millimeters from his neck, Nylas channeled his Demonic Energy directly into his right arm.
[Shield of Shadowy Jaws].
An immense claw of dark, dense energy overlaid his forearm, but it didn't form a flat barrier. It grew and widened in front of him, taking the shape of open maws of pure abyss.
Kael's sword struck.
There was no metallic clash. There was a viscous sound, like steel sinking into dead flesh. The Shield of Shadowy Jaws possessed a biting property. Instead of repelling the sword, the demonic energy clamped down on the blade of Whisper of the North, trapping it in the density of the claw.
Kael tried to pull his sword to free it, but the weapon was stuck. The dark energy began to creep up the steel, trying to corrupt Kael's golden Qi.
Nylas offered a malicious smile. With Kael immobilized by the Mercury Heaviness and his weapon seized by the Shadowy Jaws, Rank 16 unleashed his counterattack.
His left arm wrapped in black flames and dark static, channeling the purulent resentment of his core.
[Underworld Swipe].
Nylas launched a devastating physical blow directly at Kael's exposed chest. The impact was brutal. The black flames shredded the top layer of Kael's red tunic and seeped into his skin like a venomous poison.
Kael let out a muffled grunt and was pushed backward. He let go of his sword's hilt for an instant, prioritizing distance, and skidded across the sand until he stopped ten meters away.
The stadium fell silent. First blood had been drawn, and it belonged to Rank 1!
Kael brought a hand to his chest. The wound wasn't deep, but the demonic energy of the Underworld Swipe was a curse. Kael felt a frigid burn spreading through his meridians, slowing his Qi circulation. His muscles tensed, and every breath became a burning effort. The abyssal poison was trying to suffocate his light.
Nylas, in the center of the arena, held Whisper of the North locked in his shield of dark energy.
"Is that all the strength of the Sovereign?" Nylas mocked, his voice laced with venom. "You are dying slowly from my touch, and you can't even hold your own sword. Your light is weak, Kael."
In the VIP box, Saira Varian looked at her father in astonishment.
"Rank 16 is dominating Rank 1! His gravitational control nullifies speed, and that demonic energy corrupts on contact. How can the ranks be so deceiving?"
Lord Varian, however, did not take his eyes off Kael.
"Look at his eyes, Saira. There is no fear. There is disappointment."
In the arena, Kael lowered his hand from his bloodied chest. The noble expression on his face hardened. The slight touch of impulsiveness and love for battle that he always hid beneath his leadership role finally broke its chains.
Kael let out a laugh. A deep, vibrant laugh, loaded with a ferocity that made everyone present tremble.
"You're right, Nylas," said Kael, straightening up despite the frigid burn on his chest. "Light and steel aren't enough to burn the abyss. But you forgot something important. You forgot what I awakened in the Pavilion of the Five Paths. You forgot that I am not just a swordsman."
Kael's golden eyes changed. Furious red and orange streaks crossed his irises.
Kael dove into the deepest part of his meridians, ignoring the demonic infection, and forced the awakening of his second nature, the dormant heritage of his bloodline that he had mastered in the isolation of the Mirror Shadows.
Magma.
Kael's body erupted. Not with golden light, but with a wave of tectonic heat so immense and scorching that the jade slabs around him cracked and began to melt. His skin acquired an incandescent glow. The demonic infection of the Underworld Swipe, which was trying to freeze and rot his meridians, met a temperature of thousands of degrees Celsius inside his body. The black flames hissed in agony and were incinerated by the volcanic pressure of his own blood.
The abyssal poison was purged in a single heartbeat.
Nylas wiped his sadistic smile away, instinctively backing up as he felt the wave of radiant heat that threatened to blister his skin ten meters away.
Kael extended his open right hand toward Nylas.
"Give me back my sword."
In Nylas's left hand, the Shield of Shadowy Jaws imprisoning Whisper of the North began to melt. Kael's sword, linked to his soul and now infused with the magma affinity from a distance, heated up until it became an incandescent cherry red. Nylas's demonic energy couldn't withstand the thermal shock and dissipated with a sharp shriek, dropping the weapon.
With a fluid motion, Kael pulled the sword back to his hand through his Qi connection.
"If you want to crush me with the abyss, Nylas, you'll have to try something heavier," Kael challenged, wielding the molten blade that now dripped drops of liquid steel that didn't harm his base weapon.
Nylas gritted his teeth, his malice overflowing.
"I will bury you under the mountain!"
Nylas flexed his knees and dug his boots into the ground. He activated his [Anchor of Stability]. He increased his own gravity by four, becoming completely immovable. At the same time, his right arm was enveloped by a colossal manifestation of dark energy, a gigantic claw that oozed the essence of the abyss.
[Claw of the Devouring Abyss].
Kael didn't retreat. The King of the Vanguard launched a frontal attack. He wrapped his sword and his body in a mix of golden aura and hyper-dense magma, slicing through the air with a suffocating heat.
The clash was titanic.
Kael launched a descending slash designed to split the arena in two. Nylas raised the Claw of the Devouring Abyss to block.
The magma clashed against the devouring darkness.
BAM!
A shockwave of fire and shadows swept the coliseum. The heat tried to melt the claw, while the demonic claw didn't try to cut Kael, but sought to tear apart and consume the volcanic Qi of his sword.
As their forces clashed, Nylas used his short-range advantage. Without releasing the clash of weapons, he used his free hand to launch a [Kinetic Impulse].
He didn't push Kael; instead, he generated a sudden gravitational pull on the swordsman's left shoulder. Kael lost his balance for a fraction of a second, pulled violently forward.
Taking advantage of the imbalance, Nylas opened his immense demonic claw and fired the [Chains of Darkness].
Five projections of lethal energy, like elongated, sharp fingers, shot out from the claw at point-blank range. The projections didn't try to pierce Kael's chest; they dug into his shoulders, arms, and legs, entangling him in a net of pure darkness. The "claws" anchored him to the jade floor, immobilizing him half a meter from Nylas.
Kael grunted, feeling a sharp pain. The Chains of Darkness weren't just physically holding him; the demonic energy began to violently drain his life force and his Magma Qi, sending that energy directly to Nylas, feeding the dark combatant's core.
"You're bound, Kael," hissed Nylas, his face inches from the swordsman's, enjoying the pain in his opponent's eyes. "Your heat is fading. Your life belongs to me. You can't swing the sword anymore."
Kael, with blood sliding down his trapped arms, didn't try to physically struggle. His golden eyes, streaked with fire, locked onto Nylas's.
"My arms are bound," said Kael, his voice low and rumbling. "But my sword doesn't need my arms to cut through the falsehood of your darkness."
Kael closed his eyes for a millisecond. He didn't use brute force to break the chains. He used his most refined technique, the art of his Sword Seed that attacked concepts.
[Cut of Doubt].
Kael didn't move his body. He launched a mental and physical attack purely based on his sword's intention. The Cut of Doubt ignored material barriers and bindings. A wave of pure, sharp will emanated from Kael's core and directly severed the energetic connection of the Chains of Darkness.
The links of demonic energy shattered into pieces with a sound like broken glass—not from physical force, but because Kael's intention had "doubted" their existence, nullifying the spiritual bond.
Nylas staggered, the mental cut causing a stabbing pain in his head. His chains had been destroyed without Kael lifting a finger.
Knowing Kael was now free at point-blank range, Nylas entered tactical panic. He clenched the fist of his Abyssal Claw and detonated the area-clearing technique to desperately create distance.
[Explosion of Abyssal Wrath].
A blast of raw demonic pressure, similar to the impact of a multi-ton invisible mace, struck Kael in the chest. The impact was so violent that Rank 1 was repelled twenty meters backward, flying through the air until he landed heavily on his feet, leaving two deep gouges in the stone as he skidded to a halt.
Nylas, bleeding from the nose due to the effort of maintaining gravity and the abyss active simultaneously, breathed erratically. He knew he had missed his chance for the kill.
"You will not come closer!" shouted Nylas, losing his taciturn demeanor. His fear transformed into pure murderous intent.
Nylas forced his core beyond its limits. He pushed the gravitational control to its maximum capacity, a range that bordered on suicide for his Stage 4 body. He increased the gravity in Kael's area not to x2 or x3, but to a deadly x5.
Nylas's hands began to tremble violently. Blood gushed from his nose, and his eyes became bloodshot. He was squeezing his own vitality to maintain the field of extreme pressure on the King of the Vanguard.
Under the force of gravity multiplied by five, the ground around Kael sank half a meter. The stone pulverized from the sheer environmental pressure. A normal human being would have been crushed into an unrecognizable mass. Even for an Origin Realm cultivator, moving under five gravities was akin to trying to swim in setting concrete.
And while Kael was pinned by the crushing gravity, Nylas began to concentrate all his remaining Demonic Energy into his right hand. The Claw of the Devouring Abyss condensed to form a small singularity of absolute darkness. He was going to hurl that concentrated sphere at Kael, a technique designed to entirely devour his flesh and soul.
In the VIP box, Lord Varian leaned over the railing.
"Five times increased gravity and a demonic singularity... Rank 16 is burning his lifespan to ensure this kill. The swordsman is trapped. If he can't move, that sphere of darkness will erase him."
But Samael Morningstar, on his balcony, showed not the slightest concern.
"A true sovereign does not ask permission to move, Varian," Samael murmured to himself, stroking Celeste's hair. "He dictates the weight of the world."
In the arena, Kael Morningstar was on his knees, the weight of five gravities trying to crush his spine. His arms trembled under the absurd burden. His red tunic was soaked in his own blood.
Nylas, his face bathed in blood, raised his demonic singularity.
"Die crushed by the abyss!" he roared, about to launch the attack.
Kael lowered his head, and a genuine smile—the smile of a warrior who has found his limit and decides to ignore it—crossed his face.
The golden aura and the red magma didn't go out. They merged.
Kael stood up.
It wasn't a fluid movement. His bones creaked and his muscles microscopically tore from the unnatural effort of rising under that oppression. But he did it. He stood tall and stoic under the tyranny of gravity.
He raised Whisper of the North with both hands. The sword shone not only with magma but with a blinding golden light that represented his unbreakable will.
He was going to use his Sword Seed's final technique, the attack that ignored any law imposed by an opponent of his same level.
[Sovereign's Cut].
Kael didn't try to fight against Nylas's gravity. He ignored it.
The Sovereign's Cut concentrated pure will to bypass the enemy's physical and spiritual shields for a fraction of a second. In this case, the shield was the force of gravity itself.
Kael launched a descending vertical slash from twenty meters away.
The impact wasn't a projectile flying through the air. The very concept of x5 gravity in front of Kael was literally cut in two. The vacuum left by the slash was instantly filled with a tidal wave of hyper-dense magma and golden light.
The demonic singularity Nylas held in his hand was struck by the conceptual slash before he could throw it. The devouring darkness tried to consume the magma, but Kael's Sovereign will nullified its defensive properties. The singularity exploded right in Nylas's hands.
The slash of magma and light continued its unstoppable path, tearing through Nylas's Claw of the Devouring Abyss until it turned to ashes, and struck Rank 16 squarely in the torso.
The resulting explosion lit up Skull Rock like a second sunrise. A thermal and kinetic shockwave swept the arena, melting the jade slabs and sending a wave of suffocating heat toward the stands protected by security arrays.
When the golden glow and volcanic smoke dissipated, the arena revealed the result of the absolute clash.
The area where Nylas had been standing was now a crater of molten rock. Nylas lay on the edge of the crater, his clothes incinerated and his body covered in second and third-degree burns. A massive cut, cauterized by magma to prevent him from bleeding out, crossed his chest from his left shoulder to his right hip. He was unconscious, his manipulation of gravity and demonic energy completely suppressed by the physical and spiritual trauma. He had survived, but his will had been crushed.
Twenty meters away, Kael Morningstar remained standing.
His red tunic was in tatters. His breathing was heavy and deep. His right arm bled from the effects of the multiplied gravity and the effort of the final slash, and Whisper of the North rested on the ground, its blade still red-hot. But despite the wounds and fatigue, his posture radiated undeniable nobility and power. Kael raised his face toward the stands, his golden eyes shining like twin stars, asserting his absolute dominance over the battlefield.
The entire arena erupted in a clamor that shook the surrounding mountains. The disciples chanted his name in absolute frenzy, venerating the sword that did not bow to the abyss.
In the VIP box, Saira Varian let out a long sigh, her legs trembling slightly.
"He ignored a pressure that should have broken his neck, melted a demonic anomaly, and destroyed his enemy from a distance with sheer willpower." Saira looked at her father, terror finally settling in her eyes. "That... that is Rank 1."
Lord Varian nodded, his face somber. His understanding of this clan's lethality had been cemented.
"A warrior who can nullify the laws of the world with the pure intention of his sword is not a combatant, Saira. He is a walking cataclysm. If everyone sitting at the top of this mountain possesses that suicidal resolve and that level of conceptual mastery... the Star Ice Empire won't be able to subjugate them with mere soldiers. We will need generals to face these children."
On the main balcony, Seraphina smiled, her imperial bearing intact.
"The Sovereign has reclaimed his crown, Husband. Kael didn't just burn the darkness; he burned the fear Violeta had left in the arena. He has restored the legion's spirit."
Samael nodded slowly, rocking Celeste as the little one let out an adorable yawn. The Patriarch directed his violet gaze toward the herald.
"Announce it."
The herald, with tears of emotion and terror in his eyes from the display of power he had just witnessed, raised the bone horn with both hands, sounding a prolonged, triumphant note.
BOOOOOMMM!
"The winner of the eighth match!" bellowed the herald, his voice tearing from the effort to overcome the noise of the crowd. "He who bows to no force! The First Sword of the legion, Sequence 1, Kael Morningstar, annihilates the abyss and unquestionably advances in the Final Rank Tournament!"
While the healers ran with extreme urgency to tend to the burns and the lethal cut on Nylas's chest, Kael turned around, sheathed Whisper of the North in a fluid motion despite the pain, and walked toward the south tunnels. He didn't limp. He didn't show weakness. His silhouette disappeared into the shadows, leaving behind a legacy of fire and will that the other competitors would have to surpass if they even wanted to dream of reaching the top.
The tournament continued. The blood of the golden generation watered the jade. And Lord Varian, watching from his box, finally understood that he had not come to this mountain as a judge, but as a witness to the birth of the most dangerous empire the world had seen in a thousand years.