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Chapter 393: 393
The explosion ripped through the battlefield, sending shockwaves rippling outwards. Gorgar was thrown backwards, his thick hide scorched and smoking. The Titan’s Crucible itself began to destabilize, massive chunks of rock breaking away and falling into the chasms below.
Drakthar, using the chaos as cover, didn’t grab Zythera. Instead, he kicked her towards a particularly unstable section of the collapsing ground, a cruel parting gift. "A fitting end," he muttered, before leaping from one crumbling rock to another, prioritizing his own escape. He would use the chaos and the ogre’s rage as a distraction, leaving Zythera to her fate. The explosion had bought him time, and that was all that mattered.
Gorgar, though severely wounded and disarmed, was far from defeated. He staggered to his feet, his eyes burning with rage. The loss of his halberd and the destabilization of his domain had pushed him to his limits. He roared, a sound that echoed through the collapsing battlefield, a promise of brutal retribution. The very air around him began to crackle with energy, a sign that he was about to unleash the full extent of his power, a desperate, final act of defiance.
Zythera, abandoned and injured, scrabbled desperately at the crumbling rock face. Her broken leg screamed in protest with every movement, but the ground beneath her was giving way. With a final, agonizing lurch, the section she clung to broke free, sending her tumbling towards the darkness of the chasm below. A shriek tore from her throat, a mix of pain and terror, quickly swallowed by the roar of the collapsing battlefield and Gorgar’s enraged bellow.
Drakthar, meanwhile, was making good his escape. He bounded across the crumbling terrain with practiced ease, his multiple limbs providing exceptional balance and agility. He paid no heed to Zythera’s fate; she was no longer his concern. His only focus was survival. He could sense the raw power radiating from Gorgar, a wave of destructive energy that threatened to engulf everything in its path. He needed to get clear, and quickly.
Gorgar, oblivious to Zythera’s demise, his rage focused solely on the remaining demon, gathered the remnants of his power. The air around him crackled with raw energy, the very stones trembling beneath his feet. The chaotic vortex of debris that had once been his Titan’s Crucible was now gone, replaced by a dense sphere of pure, destructive force. It pulsed with an inner light, a miniature sun of contained rage and despair.
Drakthar, glancing back, saw the horrifying spectacle. The sphere was expanding rapidly, consuming everything in its path. He knew he couldn’t outrun it. He had to find a way to escape its blast radius, or he would be obliterated.
Desperation fueled his actions. He spotted a narrow crack in the space created by their combined domain, barely wide enough for him to squeeze through. It was a risky move; the fissure could collapse at any moment, trapping him inside. But it was his only chance.
He lunged towards the fissure, forcing his way through the narrow opening. Jagged rocks scraped against his chitinous armor, tearing at his flesh, but he pushed onward, driven by the primal instinct to survive. He squeezed through just as the sphere of energy reached the opening, the intense heat searing his back.
On the other side of the fissure, Drakthar collapsed, panting heavily. He was battered, bruised, and bleeding, but he was alive. He had escaped the worst of Gorgar’s final attack. He could still feel the shockwave reverberating through the rock, a testament to the devastating power that had been unleashed.
Behind him, the world was consumed by white light and a deafening roar. The collapsing battlefield, already scarred and broken, was completely obliterated, leaving behind a crater of unimaginable size. Gorgar, in his final act of defiance, had taken his own life, and very nearly taken Drakthar with him.
Drakthar, recovering his breath, slowly rose to his feet. He looked back at the devastated landscape, a desolate wasteland where once a battlefield had stood. There was no sign of Zythera, no sign of Gorgar, only the gaping wound in the earth. He clicked his mandibles, a sound that echoed in the silence, a grim acknowledgment of the cost of survival. He had lived, but at the expense of his ally, a sacrifice he would not dwell on. Such was the way of demons.
His attention meanwhile was turned to the soul of the general angrily staring at him and Zythera’s own soul who seemed to know what was waiting for her. Drakthar, with blood all over his body, opened his mouth as both souls flew into it.
The taste of the souls was... satisfying. Gorgar’s essence was a raw, burning rage, a volatile energy that crackled in Drakthar’s core. Zythera’s, however, was different. It was laced with fear, resignation, and a faint hint of bitterness. He savored it nonetheless, the power surging through him, knitting his wounds closed and bolstering his strength. He could feel the shift, the almost tangible push towards the sixth stage of demonic evolution, but it was as if an invisible barrier held him back. Frustration flickered within him, quickly suppressed. Patience was a virtue he rarely practiced, but he understood the necessity of it now.
His attention, drawn by the residual tremors in the air, snapped upwards. Vorenza, his mistress, stood poised against Gurnak, the two titans locked in a silent confrontation. The air around them shimmered with barely contained power, a storm waiting to break. Drakthar’s multifaceted eyes narrowed, a predatory gleam returning to them. Gurnak was a prize, a source of power that could catapult him far beyond his current limitations. The thought ignited a burning desire within him, a hunger that overshadowed even the recent battle.
But then, something shifted. Vorenza’s head snapped back, her face rotating a full 180 degrees, her eyes, now facing directly behind her, locking onto Drakthar. The sight was unnatural, horrifying, a grotesque display of power that sent a chill down Drakthar’s spine despite his demonic nature. He flinched, instinctively recoiling, a primal fear gripping him. It was a clear warning, a reminder of his place in the hierarchy. He was a tool, a pawn in Vorenza’s grand game, and any ambition that overstepped his station would be met with swift and brutal punishment.
He immediately bowed his head, lowering his gaze, acknowledging his subservience. The grotesque image of Vorenza’s inverted face lingered in his mind, a chilling reminder of her absolute authority. He dared not look up again.
Vorenza’s face snapped back to Gurnak, who did his best to hide the surprise on his face. He truly hadn’t expected Vorenza, the Demon Queen, to confront him face-to-face.
He had imagined his end would come after fighting through her endless army, with Vorenza herself delivering the final blow. Yet here she was, standing before him, defying all his expectations.
His heart raced as he struggled to maintain composure. This was his chance—a rare opportunity to strike at one of the invasion’s leaders and prove his worth to the empire. But as he looked at the easygoing smile on the Demon Queen’s face, he couldn’t shake the sense of unease. Something about it felt utterly wrong.
Then, realization struck him. Gurnak glanced down from their vantage point in the sky, surveying the uncorrupted land below and the still-approaching demon army. They were clearly in untainted territory, so why wasn’t the world’s pressure targeting Vorenza as it should?
He shook his head. "No, the pressure is there... but not as strong as it should be."
Vorenza seemed to read his thoughts, rolling her eyes in mock exasperation. "Such a late reaction. I was expecting more."
"How?" Gurnak demanded.
Before he could say more, the sky darkened, and a massive eye appeared, its gaze fixed on both of them.
He wasn’t the only one taken aback. The empire’s forces were equally confused by the sudden phenomenon.
Vorenza frowned as she stared at the ominous eye in the sky before shifting her gaze back to Gurnak. "Don’t be so serious," she said with a smirk. "The rodents you just exterminated left me a wonderful gift."
"They worshipped me as a goddess. They accepted and embraced me..." Her voice trailed off as a flicker of confusion crossed her face. Her attention shifted to the goblin mage standing behind Gurnak and then to the towering mage tower beyond him.
She licked her lips, a glint of curiosity in her eyes. "Your world holds secrets that now greatly interest me."
Even as she spoke, Vorenza was inwardly sighing. If her suspicions were correct, the two gods allied with Zarvok were doing an exceptional job. Her progress in breaching this stronghold might not be something to celebrate after all, especially if her fellow Demon King was making similar strides.
Her words were met with a wave of heavy pressure emanating from Gurnak. Meanwhile, the giant eye in the sky slowly retreated, and the heavens returned to normal.
