The clash comes like a collapsing sky.
At the heart of the black mist, the surviving third-stage cultivators fight their way forward through waves of puppets, each step bought with blood and exhaustion.
Puppet bodies shatter under sword light, collapse under death energy, burn under spellfire, yet more replace them, rising endlessly from the mist.
Veena's death energy scythes through ranks, turning shattered remains into dust.
Ariel's desire-infused magic tears apart formations, emotions unravelling puppet control.
Lin Zian's sword intent carves clean paths through metal and flesh alike.
Minyu's light burns holes through the darkness, briefly revealing the way ahead.
Still, the cost is brutal.
When the last puppet falls, torn apart and swallowed by the black mist, the battlefield falls silent.
Two more third-stage cultivators collapse, their bodies devoured before they even hit the ground.
Ten others slump where they stand, injuries too severe to continue, barely conscious, their auras flickering like dying flames.
Only nineteen remain standing.
Some lean on weapons.
Some kneel, gasping.
Some stand purely on will.
Ahead of them, the mist thins.
Two figures sit facing one another.
Nyxarin.
One in a flawless human body, seated calmly, hands resting on his knees.
The other stitched together, seams visible across flesh and limbs, his posture unnaturally still.
The aura rolling from them makes hearts stutter.
Just standing there feels like drowning.
Beneath the two bodies, runes spread across the ground in vast, interlocking patterns—dense, alien, layered so deeply into the rule network that merely looking at them causes headaches and nausea.
Veena's gaze sharpens, searching instinctively for the core of the array.
There is none.
Or rather—everything is.
A realisation spreads through the group like cold poison.
They are not opponents here.
They are intruders.
The human-bodied Nyxarin opens his eyes.
Disdain flickers across his face.
"You all have come."
No one answers.
The survivors glance back instinctively—only to see the black mist sealing shut behind them, corridors collapsing, exits erased.
Retreat is impossible.
Nyxarin tilts his head, studying them as if examining broken tools.
"I don't recall inviting you."
Silence stretches.
Then he claps his hands softly, as if struck by sudden insight.
"Oh."
His lips curl.
"You must be here to congratulate me."
No one moves.
No one breathes.
Two demon Great Wizards suddenly drop to their knees, terror breaking through pride.
"Lord Nyxarin!"
"Please—spare us! We were forced—!"
Nyxarin does not look at them.
The pressure intensifies.
Bones creak.
Blood seeps from mouths and noses.
Knees buckle.
"I should welcome my guests properly," Nyxarin says mildly.
The stitched body rises.
Each movement pulls at seams, flesh stretching unnaturally, emitting a faint wet sound.
Nyxarin's former divine body steps forward.
The survivors recoil instinctively, feet scraping back against the rune-etched ground.
The pressure becomes suffocating, thick enough to feel solid.
Then—
A demon Great Wizard snaps.
Flames erupt from his hands as he screams, voice cracking with desperation.
"Kill him! If we kill him, we live!"
The fire spell streaks forward.
For an instant, hesitation vanishes.
Sword light flashes.
Death energy surges.
Light and elemental spells roar together.
All nineteen attack as one.
Light, death, sword intent, desire, frost, fire, and raw will crash forward in a single wave, tearing through the black mist and slamming into Nyxarin's divine body.
The stitched flesh reacts instantly.
Its chest caves inward under Veena's death beam, black cracks racing across the surface like shattered porcelain.
Ariel's emotional law surges next, twisting desire and fear into a tangible force that hooks into the divine body's instincts, trying to tear its will apart.
Lin Zian's sword flashes, not aiming for flesh but for spirit, the blade cutting along lines only a psychic wizard can see.
Minyu's light erupts into a spear that pierces straight through Nyxarin's shoulder, burning away divine energy in blinding brilliance.
Alsen's twilight power folds light and dark together, forming a crushing vortex that locks the divine body in place.
Yas follows, his holy spirit roaring as twilight fire crashes down like a falling star.
The impact is catastrophic.
The chamber fractures, runes screaming as their glow destabilises.
Puppets still standing are erased instantly, reduced to drifting ash.
For a heartbeat, it seems as though they might succeed.
Then Nyxarin's divine body moves.
It does not dodge.
It endures.
The shattered chest knits itself together, flesh and divine energy reweaving as if reality itself is stitching him back into existence.
His arm swings once.
Not fast.
Not wide.
Just once.
A pressure wave detonates outward.
Six third-stage cultivators are obliterated instantly, their bodies collapsing into fragments of light and blood before the black mist devours what remains.
Three more are smashed into the walls, bones pulverised, cultivation shattered beyond recovery.
The survivors stagger.
They attack again.
Again.
Again.
Each strike costs them more than it costs him.
Ariel screams as a divine backlash rips through her chest, blood spraying into the air.
Veena's death energy flickers as her mask cracks, the backlash tearing into her inner field.
Lin Zian coughs blood, his sword arm shaking violently as psychic strain tears at his soul.
Minyu stumbles, light dimming around him, ribs crushed inward by an invisible force.
Still, they do not stop.
They cannot.
Hope is gone.
Only defiance remains.
The divine body finally stumbles.
Its knees slam into the rune-etched ground.
A roar echoes through the chamber—not pain, but rage.
"ENOUGH."
The divine body slams both hands down.
The ground explodes.
Another five fall.
Their bodies do not even scream—chains of black mist pierce through them mid-air, dragging them screaming into the darkness before they can hit the ground.
Silence descends, heavy and choking.
Only six remain standing.
Veena.
Ariel.
Minyu.
Lin Zian.
Alsen.
Yas.
All are wounded.
Some are barely conscious.
All exhausted to the brink of collapse.
The divine body sways, cracks spreading across its surface, divine energy leaking out like smoke.
Veena forces herself forward, death energy flaring violently despite her injuries.
"NOW!"
They gather what remains.
Every drop of mana.
Every fragment of law.
Every shred of will.
Lin Zian's sword descends in a final arc, cutting through spirit and flesh alike.
Minyu's light condenses into a needle and pierces straight into the divine body's core.
Ariel's desire explodes outward, ripping away Nyxarin's control for a single instant.
Alsen and Yas combine twilight fire and twilight void, collapsing it inward.
Veena releases everything.
The divine body shatters.
It collapses onto the rune-covered ground, divine light flickering weakly, limbs twitching.
For a single breath—
Victory seems possible.
Then the black mist moves.
Chains erupt from every direction.
Not forged.
Not summoned.
Born directly from the mist itself.
They lash out with terrifying speed.
Chains pierce flesh, wrap around limbs, coil around throats.
Veena screams as chains punch through her shoulders, lifting her into the air.
Ariel is bound mid-step, wings crushed, blood pouring from her mouth.
Lin Zian's sword is ripped from his hand as chains coil around his wrists and spine.
Minyu is dragged upward, light flickering helplessly as chains bind his core.
Alsen and Yas are seized together, slammed into the air like broken dolls.
Even the unconscious are not spared.
Chains snake across the ground, binding the fallen, lifting broken bodies into the air, suspending them like offerings.
The divine body, shattered, is also bound.
Chains coil around it, lifting it beside them.
Then—
More chains rise.
They bind the other Nyxarin.
The human-bodied Nyxarin, still seated within the runes, is lifted effortlessly into the air, chains wrapping around his limbs, chest, and neck.
He does not struggle.
He smiles.
From the depths of the black mist, figures emerge.
Nine silhouettes.
Nine auras that make the survivors' blood run cold.
The nine martial art leaders step forward, their presence bending the rule network itself.
Their eyes gleam with something ancient.
Hungry.
Nyxarin's laughter is soft.
Almost amused.
"You truly believe that," he says, eyes sweeping across the nine martial leaders, then lingering on Ge Qiu. "You believe you are the ones holding the reins."
The power of Night coils beneath his skin, restrained but far from extinguished, pressing against the chains until the black mist itself trembles in response.
Ge Qiu does not flinch.
He plants his sword point-down into the mist-covered ground, the runes beneath it flaring faintly.
"You are finished," Ge Qiu says calmly. "Your divine body is ruined. Your human body is bound. The array is complete. Even if you struggle, the backlash will erase you before you can escape."
Song Yan smiles, cold and assured.
"Accept it. Your era ends here."
Nyxarin tilts his head slightly, studying them as though seeing them for the first time.
"So confident," he murmurs. "So very human."
Ge Qiu's pupils contract.
A deep unease coils in his chest, sharp and instinctive, as he tries to grasp what card Nyxarin is still holding.
Then—
An explosion erupts in the distance.
The black mist shudders.
A second blast follows, closer this time, then a third, each one striking like a hammer against the array itself. The chains binding everyone creak violently, fractures racing across their surface like spiderwebs.
"What—" Song Yan snaps, spinning around. "When did you—?"
Ge Qiu's gaze locks onto Nyxarin.
"You weakened the array," he says, realisation crashing down on him. "You planned this from the beginning."
Nyxarin scoffs, the sound thick with arrogance.
"You still think this ends with my death?" he says calmly. "No one can kill me—except myself."
The aura around him surges.
It swells unnaturally, distorting the air, his body stretching as though pressure is building from within. The runes beneath him flare wildly, then begin to collapse one by one.
"Retreat!" Ge Qiu roars.
The martial leaders turn at once, abandoning all composure as they flee. Veena, Ariel, Lin Zian, Minyu, and the others react just as fast, forcing their battered bodies to move as they tear themselves away from the collapsing centre.
Nyxarin explodes.
The blast is absolute.
Black and violet light tears outward, swallowing the chamber, erasing sound, matter, and law alike. Space folds, then shatters.
At the front, nine swords materialise in unison before Ge Qiu and the other martial leaders, their blades crossing as a barrier snaps into existence. The shockwave slams into it, shaking the swords violently, but the barrier holds.
Behind them, Veena and the others are shielded by the same sudden defence, the pressure ripping at them but failing to annihilate them.
At the edge of the explosion, a streak of condensed black light tears free and shoots straight toward Minyu.
Minyu's eyes flash.
But before he can react—
A figure appears in front of him.
A hand closes around the black crystal mid-flight.
The impact sends a thunderous shock through the air as the night divinity surges forward, bypassing all resistance and pouring directly into Minyu's body. His expression twists in pain, veins darkening as the power floods him.
He collapses instantly, unconscious before he hits the ground.
The explosion finally subsides.
The black mist disintegrates, shredded beyond recovery.
Issac and Nyra descend from above in the same instant, their auras crashing down like twin pillars of divine pressure. They land around the nine martial leaders, sealing the space before anyone can escape.
For a heartbeat, silence reigns.
Then—
Light erupts from the nine swords.
The barrier turns inward.
The martial leaders scream as the swords turn on their wielders, drinking deeply—energy, blood, spirit, even fragments of destiny itself being torn away. Their bodies convulse as the swords feast, the price of borrowed power finally coming due.
The chamber echoes with their cries.
And above it all, the consequences of Nyxarin's final move settle heavily into the world.