Novel Full Chapter 1258: No Caution
Chapter 1258: No Caution
The tension in the chamber where the stars had gathered had risen sharply.
Crimson Hollow sat on his seat with a crazed expression, killing intent leaking out of him.
He had just watched a decisive battle between his last remaining god and a god from Torrevenos. His god had lost, brutally, at that.
The battle had been so fast, so complete, that it burned at his pride that his god was the one it had happened to.
He had no gods left in the Virelenna.
The Star of Dranzmael had lost.
While Crimson Hollow sat in silence, seething, the one whose god had brought about his downfall was far from pleased.
’His battle instinct is also frightening.’
Iron Crown had just watched the child god trick an empress with centuries of battle experience.
Even after all the warnings he had given her, after all her preparations, she had still been outplayed, and defeated. And Atticus hadn’t even revealed anything new in the process.
’It should be different this time around. She has a concept. Let’s see.’
Iron Crown glanced at Dreaming Sea, then at Quiet Flame in quick succession.
The former had a small smile on her face, clearly anticipating the fight about to unfold. The latter, however, sat still and silent, no expression on his face.
They both waited for the battle to begin.
“Quiet Flame,” Dreaming Sea said, her voice calm and soothing. “I’m afraid your god will lose this one. Lyress is one of my favorite children. She doesn’t lose.”
“There’s a first time for everything, Dreaming Sea. You should get ready to lose your child,” Quiet Flame replied, his words calm and it sounded as though he was stating facts.
Dreaming Sea chuckled, but the sound was cold. “We’ll see.”
Iron Crown’s frown deepened. He didn’t like Quiet Flame’s words. Somehow, he couldn’t bring himself to disagree with them.
He cleared his mind. He had to watch this fight carefully and be prepared for any outcome. His god had already made it to the finals. Just one more win, and the Virelenna was his.
The Hall of the Dominion Pillars had gone silent. Every single one of the Eldorians watched with bated breath as Atticus and Lyress stood across from each other. They all sensed it, this fight would be different.
Inside the cavernous space, the tension was stifling. The air had grown colder as each of them stared.
Lyress lost her smile, her gaze flicking briefly to Atticus’s alternate selves.
“I don’t like those fakes,” she spat. “I’ll have to punish you if—”
Atticus’s katana was out of its sheath before Lyress could finish speaking. It came down like the sky itself had collapsed.
Lyress’s expression twisted violently as she reacted. Her will surged. Her figure detonated in a burst of deep purple aura, and she raised a hand to meet the incoming strike.
The impact ripped the air. A blinding flash of light exploded at the point of contact.
The champions standing nearby felt their eardrums threatening to rupture. The sheer pressure of the clash was overwhelming, and a second later, the shockwave hit.
It flung them away like ragdolls, sending them flying across the battlefield. Some crashed into walls, others were lifted clear off the floor and tossed into debris.
In the middle of the chaos, Atticus and Lyress’s eyes clashed in mid air. Hers burned wild with madness, his remained cold, calculating.
Their wills poured out like water. Purple light that reeked of death gathered behind her, while crimson light that blazed like a searing inferno erupted behind him.
Their gazes flashed. Their wills surged.
Then they detonated.
The explosion of force launched them in opposite directions.
Lyress’s crazed eyes never left Atticus even as she struggled to regain control of her flight.
With a roar, her power exploded from her like a pillar of purple fire, engulfing her entire side of the cavern in an instant.
In the next second, gands, legs, heads burst out from the ground.
Before anyone could blink, an army of the dead emerged, some with mangled, rotting flesh, others skeletal and hollow.
Each corpse was surrounded by a sickly purple glow, enhancing their power beyond what was natural.
With a single wave of her hand, the army shot forward like missiles, the dead surging toward Atticus with terrifying speed.
Atticus didn’t appear to have seen the dead shooting toward him. The instant he regained his momentum, he launched back toward Lyress in a streak of crimson light, katana in hand.
The dead swarmed in like a sea of purple from every direction, eyes blank, teeth bared and hungry for flesh.
But Atticus was far from being one of his alternate selves.
He swept his katana to the side, and in that instant, an uncountable number of crimson slashes erupted into existence, streaking outwards like blades of burning wind.
Each slash tore through the charging dead, cleaving bodies into pieces mid air. Bones shattered, limbs were flung aside, and the once coordinated swarm broke into a chaotic mess of falling corpses and dismembered undead.
The air was filled with the sound of ripping flesh and cracking bone, drowned in a haze of flickering red and purple light.
Through that haze, Atticus flashed forward in a blink, reaching Lyress in an instant.
His katana danced in his arms, flashing, flashing, flashing.
Lyress hadn’t lost her crazed smile. Her eyes lit up with purple light as her body moved with inhuman speed, weaving through the attacks and sending out her own strikes in return.
But Atticus wasn’t someone anyone wanted to fight in close quarters.
He unleashed multiple slashes that vanished before her eyes, only to reappear behind her, tearing for her neck, torso and legs.
Lyress’s gaze glinted. She tapped into one of the many powers she had stolen from the dead, summoning a barrier just in time.
The crimson slash crashed into it with a howl, and for a split second, it held, then shattered. She darted away before the blade could slice through.
But Atticus allowed no respite.
They had both awakened a concept.
They were fighting to the death.
His alternate selves might not hold back the champions for long, he had to win this quickly.
He had let go of all caution, throwing everything into the fight.
At this point, it was kill or be killed, and he had every intention of being the killer.
His voice rumbled, low and calm.
“Godspeed Grace.”