Chapter 170: Stop

Jet pushed himself upright, ignoring the blood dripping from his shoulder.

He could feel the Asura Mask approaching its limit, and he understood that continuing to fight in his current condition would only accelerate his exhaustion.

Damian’s Divine Rune was exceptionally versatile, allowing him to defend against powerful attacks while maintaining offensivepressure, and the man’s superior Mana reserves made a prolonged battle increasingly unfavorable.

There was only one option left.

Jet slowly released his additional arms, allowing the Ironbound Castellan to disappear into his System inventory.

The dark-red markings covering his back faded as he dismissed the Asura Mask, revealing his bloodied face and completely white eyes.

Damian watched with a satisfied smile, apparently interpreting the disappearance of Jet’s abilities as confirmation that the young Awakener had finally exhausted himself.

"Finally realized how hopeless this is?" Damian asked, extending his hand as several golden chains began gathering around him. "Good. Surrender quietly, and perhaps I’ll reconsider how much pain you’ll have to endure before answering my questions."

Jet didn’t respond.

Instead, he lowered the Vorpal Blade and concentrated on the golden-white flames flickering around his right hand.

Ilios.

The Undying Sun.

He had awakened the Divine Rune only a few days earlier, and although he’d already tested its abilities, there was one technique he had deliberately avoided using throughout the confrontation.

Its destructive power was extraordinary, but the Mana consumption and physical strain were equally severe, making it unsuitable for ordinary combat.

Pashupatastra.

Jet’s most devastating offensive ability.

Golden-white Divine Fire began gatheringaround his right fist, rapidly compressing into an increasingly concentrated mass of flames.

Unlike the broad bursts of Samadhi Flame he’d used earlier, this technique focused its destructive power into a single point, forcing an enormous quantity of Divine Fire into a confined space.

The flames became so dense that the surrounding air distorted violently, while the cracked asphalt beneath Jet’s feet began glowing from the tremendous heat.

Damian’s smile disappeared.

He immediately sensed the extraordinary concentration of Mana gathering around Jet’s fist, and his instincts warned him that allowing the attack to land directly would be disastrous.

"What the hell are you doing?" Damian demanded, raising his broadsword defensively.

Jet raised his head, his white eyes fixed upon Damian. "You wanted to see what I’m capable of, didn’t you? Then make sure you survive this."

Damian immediately reacted.

Golden Mana erupted from his body as he activated Golden Treasury, summoning an enormous shield directly before him.

Another appeared behind it, followed by a third, a fourth, and then several more. Within moments, more than a dozen massive golden shields stood between Damian and Jet, their surfaces overlapping to form an extraordinarily dense defensive barrier.

Damian reinforced every layer with Mana while thickening the armor covering his chest and shoulders, abandoning any attempt to counterattack as he concentrated entirely on surviving the approaching strike.

Jet stepped forward.

His right arm trembled beneath the tremendous pressure gathering inside it, and blood began trickling down his fingers as the compressed Divine Fire strained his body.

Nevertheless, he continued concentrating the flames until the surrounding golden-white radiance became almost unbearable to look at.

Then he moved.

The asphalt exploded beneath his feet as Jet launched himself forward, crossing the distance between them with everything his exhausted body could produce.

"PASHUPATASTRA!"

Jet’s fist struck the first golden shield.

BOOOOM!

The entire industrial district shook.

The first shield shattered instantly, followed by the second and third as the compressed Divine Fire erupted forward with overwhelming force.

Golden fragments scattered in every direction, melting beneath the extraordinary heat as the attack tore through the defensive formation.

Damian roared and poured additional Mana into the remaining shields, desperately attemptingto reinforce them, but each barrier collapsed almost immediately after the previous one.

The fifth shield shattered.

Then the eighth.

Then the twelfth.

Damian’s eyes widened in disbelief as the final layers began disintegrating before him.

"Impossible!" Damian screamed, crossing his armored arms over his chest.

The last shield exploded.

Jet’s flaming fist struck Damian directly.

KABOOOM!

An enormous pillar of golden-white fire erupted across the abandoned industrial district, swallowing the roadway and tearing through the surrounding ruins.

The shockwave demolished several already damaged warehouses, shattered the remaining windows of distant factories, and sent enormous fragments of concrete flying through the air.

A tremendous crater formed beneath the point of impact, its edges glowing from the intense heat as the destructive force swept across the empty industrial complex.

Jet was thrown backward by the backlash, crashing across the shattered roadway before finally coming to a stop beside an overturned cargo container.

His right arm hung painfully at his side, its muscles trembling uncontrollably as the last traces of Divine Fire disappeared from his knuckles.

His Mana reserves had fallen dangerously low, and every breath sent sharp pain through his chest.

For several moments, he remained on one knee, struggling to recover.

Then the dust began clearing.

At the center of the enormous crater lay Damian Visconti.

His golden armor had been completely destroyed, and the broadsword he’d wielded throughout the battle had shattered into countless fragments.

His clothing was burned and torn, his body covered in terrible injuries, and blood pooled beneath him as he struggled to move. The golden markings of Mammon flickered weakly across his chest before gradually fading, leaving him barely conscious.

Jet stared at him.

It was over.

He slowly forced himself upright, retrieved the Vorpal Blade, and began walking toward the crater.

Each step was painful, but he continued forward until he stood directly above Damian, looking down at the young man who had orchestrated the assassination campaignagainst the expedition survivors.

Damian coughed violently, blood spilling from his mouth as he struggled to focus on Jet’s face.

"You... damned... bastard..."

Jet raised the Vorpal Blade.

His expression remained cold.

"You should’ve left my family alone," Jet said quietly, tightening his grip around the weapon.

Damian attempted to move, but his body refused to respond.

Jet lifted the sword higher, preparing to bring it down.

Then a powerful voice suddenly thundered across the ruined battlefield.

"JET! STOP!"

Jet froze.

He recognized that voice immediately.

Turning his head, he saw a familiar figure standing at the edge of the enormous crater, his expression filled with shock as he stared at the bloodied young man lying beneath Jet’s sword.

Alessandro Vittorio Orsini.

The Guildmaster of Darkstar Guild had arrived