However, Tharion managed to evade just before the spearhead could pierce his body. Even so, the invisible pressure from the swing slammed into him—the air seemed to solidify and crush his chest, forcing Tharion to his knees.
G gave him no opening. He swung the spear vertically, slicing through the air as it plummeted toward the back of Tharion's neck.
Suddenly, a dagger of lightning-blue appeared, parrying the strike. In an instant, a second lightning dagger stabbed into G's right wrist. A fine current of electricity surged rapidly, forcing G's muscles to contract violently. The spear slipped from his grasp.
Tharion did not waste the opportunity. With lightning speed, he slashed through G's body, sending him crashing to the ground, dying.
"Y—you..." G gasped for air. "It turns out you were hiding your strength... With that speed, you could cover one thousand seven hundred meters in a single second..."
Tharion crouched before him, his gaze cold and calculated.
"Your eye reflexes are extraordinary," he said quietly. "But your body itself was unable to keep up with the reaction speed of your eyes."
"Tch... useless..."
A voice echoed, rolling across the territory of the Khaelryn clan like thunder in a cloud-choked sky.
Another figure appeared in the air. Their aura was oppressive, causing the ground to vibrate subtly. They drew a magic circle.
"
A small white sphere formed—calm, almost silent. Yet, Tharion's instincts screamed in warning.
The sphere was hurled.
"Damn... that's no ordinary magic," Tharion muttered. Without hesitation, he drew another magic circle as lightning began to pulse wildly around his body.
"
"No! Father, don't use that spell!" Raivorne screamed.
In his heart, Tharion had already made his decision.
This is the only way. If I bind the lightning to my own body... the impact can be diverted. They still have a chance to live.
Black-blue lightning snaked out, forming chains of light that coiled around Tharion's body and slammed into the ground surrounding him. When the Orb Burst struck, the Stormbound Sacrifice did not collide with it—it imprisoned it.
The energy of the explosion was muffled, dragged into the vortex of lightning bound to Tharion's body.
In an instant, the entire weight of that destruction was shifted onto him.
Tharion's body was blown back. The lightning faded, the ground cracked, and the air returned to silence.
He lay there, his breath heavy—his body had sustained catastrophic injuries, but the territory behind him... remained standing.
Elsewhere, Keira, Zevaron, Lance, Luna, and Raivorne walked down a dark corridor. Suddenly, a bright orange light flared up, illuminating the bleak walls of the passage.
The bracelet on Keira's right wrist began to glow with increasing intensity. A door appeared before them and opened slowly. With no other choice, the five of them stepped inside—but as soon as they entered, the door slammed shut behind them.
"Be alert," Zevaron said in a serious tone.
The bracelet on Keira's hand suddenly detached and hovered in the center of the room. The golden band spun incessantly. As it rotated, the room around them began to change.
The walls seemed to recede, the ceiling rose, and the space expanded far beyond its original limits. Various strange objects appeared, radiating a heavy, ancient aura. Keira's body slowly floated upward, enveloped in golden light.
"Now you have become the owner of this place. Restore the glory of our clan."
The voice from the golden bracelet echoed throughout the room, sounding as if it came from a very distant time. A moment later, the bracelet fused, cracked, and then shattered without a trace.
"This place is full of interesting things," Lance remarked, looking around. "Do we get a share?"
Raivorne swiped at the back of Lance's head. "This belongs to her clan. Do we have any right to expect anything from here?" he said coldly.
"Don't worry," Keira said calmly.
Dozens of books in the room suddenly lifted, spinning in the air before floating neatly in front of them. Each book radiated a different magical aura.
"Each of these books contains magic from the past," Keira continued. "And supposedly... many of them are incredibly powerful."
"But magic from how long ago?" Zevaron asked, clear curiosity on his face.
"Ever since this bracelet merged with my subconscious," Keira answered, "I've known that this place originates from the Peak Era."
"The Peak Era?" They looked at each other, clearly not yet understanding the significance.
"The Peak Era was the time when the strongest beings ruled this planet," Keira explained. "That era ended about one hundred thousand years ago."
Raivorne narrowed his eyes, staring at the books floating in the air. "One hundred thousand years ago... and yet remnants like this still exist," he said quietly. "If we lived in that era, only then would we truly understand the kind of power that makes these relics feel so precious now."
For five full days, they trained without rest. Zevaron, Lance, Luna, and Raivorne studied the ancient magics stored within the chamber, while Keira focused on training her body—following the physical records and combat methods passed down by her clan's ancestors.
On the fifth day, the ground above them suddenly opened.
Without hesitation, the five of them leapt upward. Once they reached the surface, the sight before them made the very air feel frozen.
A young man with deep red hair sat casually atop a mountain of corpses. His hair hung messily, and his eyes—dark red like dried blood—stared straight ahead without emotion. He looked young, far too young for a figure surrounded by such death. He appeared no older than nineteen.
Yet the aura enveloping him... was not young at all.
They all reflexively took up combat stances.
"It's useless," the youth said calmly.
He released his aura. The pressure hit them like an invisible wave, making their bodies tremble and their breath turn heavy. Even standing became a struggle.
In an instant—even Zevaron, who had the fastest reactions among them, was unable to track the movement.
The youth was already standing directly in front of Zevaron.
He took one step forward and lightly tapped Zevaron's shoulder.
"We will meet again someday," he said with a thin smile. "I look forward to the cooperation between you and me."
"Cooperation with you?" Zevaron squinted, fighting against the pressure of the aura. "Is that even possible? Besides, I don't even know who you are."
The youth stopped walking. A moment later, he let out a soft laugh—a laugh that contained no warmth whatsoever.
"One day," he remarked, "you too will understand... and work with us."
He then turned and walked toward Keira.
"Do you intend to steal my clan's ancestral legacy?" Keira's voice sounded cold. "I won't let you."
The red-haired youth raised an eyebrow, looking slightly amused.
"Why would I bother stealing the legacy of the Tyrrel clan?" he said casually. "Not all relics of the Peak Era are suitable for the people of the current age."
His words left Keira speechless.
"The Peak Era? How does he know about this? No one else should know that," Keira muttered to herself.
The youth raised one hand. Blood-red fire gathered in his palm, pulsing slowly as if it possessed a will of its own.
"I actually wanted to tell you more," he said quietly. "But... he won't let me."
Without looking at them again, he threw the blood-red fire toward the pile of corpses behind him.
The fire did not explode.
It spread, crawling among the mountain of bodies like a living creature, devouring everything in silence. There was no sound of explosion, no screams—only a deep red light that flickered softly, then dimmed.
Within a few breaths, the pile of thousands of corpses vanished without a trace. Even the bloodstains disappeared, as if the place had never been a slaughterhouse.
The youth smiled thinly.
"Well then... until we meet again."
In the blink of an eye, he vanished. His oppressive aura disappeared with him, leaving behind a suffocating silence.