The atmosphere before the grand gates of the Dwarf Palace had undergone a fundamental transformation. The air was no longer composed of mere oxygen and nitrogen; it had become a thick, viscous soup of killing intent . Jai stood at the precipice of the marble stairs, his robes fluttering in the chaotic winds. His mind, honed by the heritage of the Chenwongo bloodline, operated with the cold, calculating precision of a spiritual array. He knew that the figure before him, Thrain Ironhand, was a monster who had crawled out of the blood-soaked annals of history.
"Everyone, steady your Dao hearts!" Jai's voice, infused with internal energy, boomed across the plaza, shattering the encroaching silence. "He is a Tier 3 Overlord with six centuries of slaughter as his foundation. To him, we are but ants beneath the wheel of karma. But even ants, if unified in their path, can topple a mountain!"
Jai's eyes flashed with a golden light as he initiated the command protocols. In this moment, he was no longer an 18-year-old youth; he was a Commander-General of the Spirit Realm. "Divide! Unit One: The Fighters! Sixty of you, move like the wind! Unit Two: The Defenders! The ninety of you shall remain here as the Unshakable Wall!"
The soldiers, momentarily dazed by the sheer pressure emanating from Thrain, found their courage reignited by Jai's command. "The enemy host behind that man is a sea of steel, but they are a sea without a shore!" Jai continued, his words striking like thunder. "Fighters, bypass the Iron Hand! Your mission is to sever the enemy's flanks. If the common troops overwhelm us, our formation will crumble into dust. Defenders, stay with James and me. We do not seek to slay the tiger today; we seek only to blunt its claws. If one team falters, the cycle of life and death ends for us all!"
The Ministers, many of whom had lived through decades of border skirmishes, felt a chill run down their spines. This youth was weaving the battlefield like a master weaver at a loom. With a thunderous cry of "As you command, Young Lord!", the troops split.
The Fighters surged forward, their boots kicking up clouds of white marble dust. They ignored Thrain entirely, moving like a school of silver fish darting past a shark. Thrain, seated atop the obsidian-furred Shadow-Render, watched them with the detached amusement of a cat watching mice play.
An interesting tactical maneuver, Thrain mused, his dark eyes narrowing. Distract the auxiliary forces to prevent the 'ant-pile' effect. This brat truly possesses the cunning of that wretched Queen Beatrice. He understands that a war of attrition is won by managing the chaos.
As Thrain turned his gaze back to the palace, he realized he had been trapped. The Defenders had executed a "Snake-Coiling Formation." In an instant, ninety high-tier ministers had formed concentric rings of elemental resonance. Their collective mana hummed at a frequency that distorted the air, creating a spiritual cage designed to constrict even the most powerful of beasts.
"Young scion," Thrain's voice rang out, a hollow sound that seemed to vibrate the very marrow of those who heard it. "Your tactical mind is rare in this era. I truly had no desire to extinguish your flame today. However, a brother's request is heavier than a mountain. Gronak wants your head, and so, I shall grant you a swift passing into the Yellow Springs."
Without a gesture, the ground beneath the Defenders turned into a nightmare. "Void Art: Great Abyss Siphon!"
Purple sigils, glowing with the light of a dying star, erupted on the ground. A terrifying gravitational force manifested, threatening to pull the soldiers into the crushing embrace of the void. But Jai had long since activated "The Listener"—a Tier 6 telepathic artifact. His voice echoed directly in the minds of his men: "Fire Masters, Ignite the Sun! Plasma Counter-Pressure, Now!"
Having been briefed by Brokk, a fellow master of the Void, the team knew the weakness of the Siphon. The fire elementalists channeled their Dantian's energy, unleashing a pillar of white-hot flame. The heat rose to such a divine level that it converted the gravitational mana into unstable plasma, neutraling the suction through sheer thermal expansion. To prevent their allies from being incinerated, the Water Masters simultaneously projected a "Mist of the Azure Dragon," cooling the interior of the circle.
Thrain's laughter was a cold, rasping sound. "Clever. But the ground is the least of your worries."
He pointed his blackened blade toward the heavens. "Heavenly Art: Grand Volt Horizon!"
The blue sky was instantly blotted out by ink-black clouds that swirled like a vortex into the abyss. Violet lightning, each bolt the size of a dragon's limb, began to rain down in a chaotic, soul-shattering barrage.
"Earth and Wood Masters, The Tortoise Shell of the World Tree!" Jai's command was instantaneous.
Massive slabs of reinforced rock, entwined with ancient, mana-infused roots, rose to form a jagged dome. Wood and earth, natural insulators against the heavens' wrath, absorbed the strikes. But Thrain was becoming impatient. He condensed the sprawling storm into a singular, vibrating needle of pure electricity and lunged.
The speed was beyond the perception of the mortal eye. Just as the lightning-blade was about to split Jai's skull, the ten strongest Tier 4 Ministers, supported by the raw power of Brokk and Winston, threw their bodies into the path. They met the impact with a "Spirit-Breaking Parry," their boots carving deep furrows into the marble as they were pushed back by the sheer momentum of the God-General.
Thrain flickered. "Light-Step: Instantaneous Mirage." He appeared behind Jai, his blade whistling through the air. Squelch! The blade passed through Jai's torso, but instead of blood, there was only a shimmering, golden mist.
"Illusion?" Thrain spat, his irritation peaking.
Winston, a master of the spirit arts, had woven a "Mirror of the Soul" technique, projecting high-fidelity clones of Jai and James. Thrain's rage reached its zenith. He raised his sword, and the black clouds descended, funneling all their energy into the hilt of his weapon.
"Forbidden Art: Heavens' Execution Beam!"
He unleashed a 360-degree wave of concentrated lightning. The Defenders roared in agony as their shields began to crack and splinter under the pressure of a Tier 3 extinction-level event.
In the midst of the blinding light, Jai caught a glimpse of the truth. "The horse! His momentum and his Void-Shroud are anchored to the steed! Break the artifact on its flank!"
While the Defenders sacrificed their mana to hold the line against the lightning, a small group of marksmen found their opening. Thrain, arrogant in his six centuries of invincibility, ignored them, believing his Tier 4 Heavenly Shield Artifact—a gift from the old King—would protect his mount.
But he underestimated the "Power of the Many." The Ministers didn't fire random volleys; they focused forty separate "Piercing Cloud Strikes" onto a single, microscopic point on the horse's flank. The artifact groaned. It flickered. Then, with the sound of a shattering mountain, the defense broke.
Zayn Stone stepped forward. His breathing was shallow, his focus absolute. He pulled the string of his Ice-Soul Bow, an heirloom that hummed with the frost of the Northern Tundra. He saw the world in fragments—the blood, the thunder, and the monster. For the peace my father built! For my sister, Morisa!
The arrow flew. It was a streak of absolute-zero light that bypassed the lightning, cool as ice and buried itself deep into the eye of Shadow-Render. The massive horse let out a shriek that sounded like a thousand souls crying out in pain. Its brain was instantly flash-frozen, and its colossal body collapsed, sliding across the marble and throwing Thrain into the dirt.
The silence that followed was more terrifying than the thunder.
Thrain stood up slowly, his movements robotic. His armor was stained with the sky-blue and emerald-green blood of the fallen. He walked over to his fallen companion, the beast that had carried him through the loneliness of centuries. He felt the cold eye of the horse.
In that moment, the last thread connecting Thrain to his humanity—the last gift from the King who had saved him as a beggar—snapped. The grief of losing his family, his brother Denson, and now his steed, curdled into a black, oily essence that began to leak from his pores.
Thrain turned toward the palace. The air around him began to boil. He reached behind his back and drew a sword that hadn't seen the sun since he got defeated by the Great Human Emperor.
"The Destroyer."
The blade was a forbidden fusion of Void, Light, and Lightning. It didn't reflect the light of the fires; it seemed to eat it, casting a shadow of absolute darkness that stretched across the entire battlefield.
"You have stripped me of my past," Thrain whispered, his voice vibrating with a Tier 3 killing intent that turned the nearby stone pillars into fine, grey sand. "Now, I shall strip you of your future. I will leave this world a silent grave."
Jai gripped his sword, his palms sweating. He knew the true battle—the trial of life and death—had only just begun. The beast was no longer a man; it was an avatar of ruin.