The thunderous collapse of the Infernal Gaolith sent a violent shockwave rippling through the battlefield. Shattered obsidian fragments tumbled from its ruined form, its molten veins dimming into lifeless cracks. Seraphine stood amidst the wreckage, her silver eyes scanning the battlefield.
In the distance, a horde of monstrous figures surged forward—dozens of Gaoliths marching in unison, their massive obsidian bodies gleaming with hellish golden veins. Among them, razor-limbed Mantises scuttled forward, their sickle-like arms glinting under the bloodied sky. Screams echoed. The air reeked of blood, burning stone, and death. Several Awakeners lay lifeless, their bodies either crushed under Gaolith fists or torn apart by the Mantis swarms.
Her grip on her sword tightened. They couldn't be allowed to escape. If even one of these creatures reached the outer city, where innocent civilians lived unaware, the result would be absolute devastation.
Perched behind a jagged rock, Zhuo leaned lazily against a conjured chair, watching the battlefield unfold with an amused smirk. He hadn't lifted a finger. Instead, his gaze locked onto Seraphine.
"Strange," he murmured to himself. "Why isn't she using her element?" His fingers tapped rhythmically against the armrest.
He could have asked the Veil Interface for an answer—one simple order and he'd know the details of her abilities. But…
"Where's the fun in that?" His grin widened. "I'd rather see it firsthand."
And so he waited.
Seraphine exhaled—a slow, measured breath amidst the chaos. The scent of burning flesh and crushed stone lingered in the air, but she paid it no mind. Her fingers traced along the hilt of her sword, feeling the cold, worn grip before tightening around it.
With a sharp pull, she wrenched the blade free from the Infernal Gaolith's remains. The dark ichor that coated its edge dripped lazily onto the ruined ground below, pooling amidst the scattered debris.
Her eyes darkened.
A single word left her lips.
"[Domain.]"
The battlefield twisted.
A force unseen, yet undeniable, rippled outward from her presence. Unlike the radiant bursts of magic or the blazing auras of other Awakeners, her power spread in silence—no blinding lights, no roaring shockwaves. But its effect was immediate.
The air thickened, suffused with an unnatural weight. At first, it was subtle—a shift so slight that most wouldn't notice. Small debris, broken shards of stone and shattered weapons, hovered slightly before scattering outward, as if caught in an invisible tide.
Then—the shift intensified.
The pressure in the domain doubled, then tripled, a crushing gravity bearing down upon everything within its reach.
The Mantises shrieked in distress. Their erratic, lightning-fast movements slowed as their thin, fragile legs buckled beneath an unseen force. Their once-deadly agility was now crippled, their bodies trembling under the sheer weight pressing down on them.
The Gaoliths groaned, their colossal forms visibly struggling. Built to withstand devastation, they were now crumbling under an unseen mountain. Their golden-veined bodies flickered as they tried to resist, but the force was overwhelming. Some staggered, their movements sluggish, while others collapsed onto their knees, their stone-like frames shaking under the gravity's relentless grasp.
At the same time—
Seraphine moved.
Her form blurred, her speed doubled within her domain.
One step—she was gone.
The first Mantis never saw it coming.
Seraphine materialized in their midst, her presence like a death knell. Her blade flashed—silent, swift, merciless.
A black crescent of energy erupted from her sword, carving through the air with a soundless hum.
The battlefield trembled.
The crescent distorted space itself, a ripple of void cutting through reality. It passed through the first Mantis without resistance, slicing cleanly as if its body were mere mist.
Then—it continued.
One.
Two.
Three.
The Mantises fell in perfect, seamless halves, their severed bodies collapsing before they even realized they were dead.
The crescent did not stop.
It carved its path through the battlefield, reaching the Gaoliths.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then—
Crack.
The sound of shattering stone echoed as the first Gaolith split apart. Its towering frame, once an unbreakable fortress, collapsed inward, crumbling into two perfect halves.
Another crack—
Another Gaolith fell.
Then another.
Then another.
One by one, their obsidian torsos fractured, splintering along invisible fault lines. Their bodies, once believed to be impenetrable, were now nothing more than ruins.
And then—
A deafening crash.
The battlefield quaked as the Gaoliths fell in unison, a chain reaction of destruction that left the entire field in silence.
Seraphine did not stop.
As the last echo of falling rubble faded, she vanished—a flicker of movement that melded into the unseen currents of her domain.
Then—she reappeared.
Her blade pierced forward, sinking into the golden-veined chest of another Gaolith. The moment the steel met its core—the entire structure shattered.
A roar—cut short.
The Gaolith fell.
She moved again.
Another step, another kill.
Her sword severed limbs, punctured cores, and reduced behemoths to rubble. Every strike was precise, methodical—a surgeon carving apart a body with practiced ease.
She wasn't fighting.
She was executing.
By the time the last Gaolith collapsed into dust, the battlefield was silent.
The Awakeners stood frozen.
Their weapons still clenched in their hands, their breaths ragged from battle—they did not move.
They simply stared.
At her.
At the lone woman standing amidst the wreckage, her sword gleaming under the blood-red sky.
At the mountain of broken remains stacked before her—a testament to her dominance.
One woman.
One sword.
And an entire battlefield, reduced to silence.
Her chest rose and fell in deep, ragged breaths. She was exhausted.
The weight of battle pressed down on her body, heavier than ever. Every limb felt leaden, her muscles screaming in protest. The once-fluid grace of her stance now carried the subtle tremors of fatigue, her fingers tightening around the hilt of her sword as if to ground herself.
She exhaled, a shuddering breath that barely steadied her.
The toll of her abilities had begun to surface.
Her domain, the very force that had crushed her enemies with sheer, unrelenting gravity, had also taken its price. The surge of mana that had fueled her overwhelming power now flickered, drained. The raw expenditure of her element left an ache within her, a deep, gnawing emptiness that clawed at her insides. Her body was protesting, strained from pushing beyond its limits.
A faint gasp escaped her lips. Unintended. Uncontrolled.
She hated the sound of it.
She hated the weakness it revealed.
But it was undeniable.
Her knees felt like they might buckle if she let her guard down for even a moment. Her arms, though still gripping her blade, felt heavier than before, as if her own strength had abandoned her.
Yet she forced herself to remain standing.
Because the battle was not over.
Her weary gaze lifted, her silver eyes sharpening despite the exhaustion threatening to blur her vision. Above, against the crimson-stained sky, dark shapes loomed.
The Eclipse Harbingers.
The aerial nightmares.
Their enormous, winged forms cast long, shifting shadows over the battlefield. Their glowing, abyssal eyes pulsed with a haunting, eerie light as they hovered like specters of death, untouched by the carnage below.
For a moment, a single fleeting moment, the weight of reality settled upon her.
She had eradicated the Gaoliths. She had butchered the Mantises.
But the battle was far from over.
And she was running on fumes.
A slow, measured breath. A roll of her shoulders. The strain in her body did not fade, but she swallowed it down.
Because exhaustion did not matter.
Not yet.
Above her, monstrous figures circled the sky like harbingers of death.
They dominated the battlefield, reigning from above where blades could not reach. Their talons carved through flesh, their piercing shrieks disoriented their prey, and their aerial assaults turned the land into a slaughterhouse.
Seraphine's fists clenched as she saw her allies struggling. Magic and arrows shot upward in a desperate attempt to strike them down, but the Harbingers weaved through the air with ease, their speed rendering the attacks useless.
Frustration flared in her chest.
They needed to be grounded.
They needed to fall.
Seraphine exhaled sharply, willing her body to move despite the exhaustion anchoring her limbs. She had already pushed herself far past her limits—but it wasn't enough.
Her domain…
It had to be more.
More expansive. More powerful. More absolute.
Her grip on her sword tightened until her knuckles turned white. Closing her eyes, she focused—not on her fatigue, not on the burning ache gnawing at her body, but on power.
She let go of restraint.
Her Domain expanded.
A deep, invisible tremor spread across the battlefield as her element surged outward. The very air grew heavier, thick with an unseen force that pulsed with crushing intensity. A shift in reality itself.
The change was immediate.
The Awakeners gasped as the battlefield tilted under an unseen pressure, the air distorting at its edges. The shattered remains of Gaoliths trembled. Loose debris and rubble lifted into the air before being ripped downward with terrifying force.
And then—
The Eclipse Harbingers screamed.
A guttural, agonized wail erupted from the creatures as their bodies convulsed mid-flight. Their wings faltered, straining desperately against the force dragging them down. They flapped wildly, trying to stay aloft, but Seraphine's domain had shifted the rules of gravity itself.
They plummeted.
One by one, they crashed down like fallen stars, their monstrous bodies colliding with the earth in a series of violent tremors. Some shattered upon impact, their brittle bones snapping under the sheer force of their descent. Others flailed, struggling to rise, their once-majestic wings now rendered useless.
Seraphine swayed, her vision blurring.
The backlash hit her like a tidal wave.
Her head pounded. Her body—already drained from her previous battles—screamed in protest. It felt like something inside her was breaking, as if her own mana veins were fracturing under the weight of her power.
A sharp pain lanced through her skull, forcing her to bite down on a gasp. Her breathing turned shallow, uneven. Her legs trembled beneath her, struggling to hold her upright.
Her knees nearly buckled.
Her body wanted to give in.
But she refused.
Not yet.
Seraphine forced herself to lift her head. The Eclipse Harbingers, once untouchable, were now sprawled across the battlefield, vulnerable, helpless. The Awakeners around her stared in shock, disbelief clear in their eyes.
She couldn't let this chance slip away.
With what little strength she had left, she commanded—
"Now! Kill them before they take flight again!"
For a brief moment, no one moved.
The Awakeners stood frozen, eyes flickering between her and the fallen monstrosities. They had fought desperately against these creatures before—had barely survived their relentless aerial assaults.
And now, because of her, they lay broken before them.
Awe. Disbelief. Recognition.
Then, in a burst of motion—
A battle cry shattered the silence.
Captain Doris was the first to strike.
The towering man surged forward, his massive greatsword gleaming under the darkened sky. His muscles tensed, power coiling through his limbs as he lunged at a struggling Harbinger.
With a single, earth-shaking swing, he cleaved through it.
The beast's body split apart in a grotesque display, blackened blood spraying across the battlefield. Its screech died in its throat, cut off before it could escape.
Doris turned, his voice a thunderous roar. "What are you all standing around for?! KILL THEM NOW!"
His words shattered whatever hesitation remained.
The Awakeners moved as one.
Swords flashed, spells ignited, the battlefield exploding into a massacre.
The once-untouchable monsters of the sky, now grounded and vulnerable, were slaughtered one by one.
Seraphine watched, her breath ragged, her vision dimming at the edges. Her body had reached its breaking point.
But she had done it.
The second wave had fallen. The once-dominant Eclipse Harbingers lay broken across the battlefield, their grotesque forms reduced to lifeless husks. The air was thick with the stench of blood and the lingering remnants of mana from the countless spells that had been cast. The Awakeners, though victorious, stood with heaving chests, their bodies battered and fatigued from the relentless battle.
But it wasn't over.
A deep, guttural rumble echoed across the battlefield, sending a tremor through the very ground beneath them. The air grew still, heavy with an ominous presence. The towering Gate that loomed in the distance pulsed with eerie, crimson light, its jagged edges glowing as ancient runes began to stir to life.
Seraphine's breath caught in her throat.
The third wave.
The Gate Guardian was emerging.
She took a step back, her sword trembling slightly in her grasp as exhaustion weighed down on her. Her body screamed for rest, her mana reserves dangerously depleted—but there was no time.
She gasped, forcing herself to stand tall.
This battle was far from over.