Chapter 141: The Astral Slayer vs The Ascended Overlord 1

The battlefield stood in eerie silence for a fleeting moment as Ethan and Drakor locked eyes. A primal energy crackled between them, two forces beyond comprehension, poised at the precipice of oblivion. Then, in an instant, the world detonated around them.

With an explosion of movement, they collided, the impact birthing a cataclysmic shockwave that shattered the sky itself. The very air ruptured with the force of their clash, sending ripples through reality like glass struck by a hammer. The ground beneath them splintered as titanic fissures erupted outward.

Coalition soldiers and surviving Syndicate troops were thrown into chaos. Some were flung like ragdolls, their bodies swallowed by the expanding chasms. Others scrambled for shelter behind crumbling structures, their weapons rendered meaningless in the face of such unfathomable power. A few, unable to withstand the sheer pressure of energy radiating from the two warriors, collapsed to their knees, clutching their heads as their minds teetered on the brink of madness.

The air itself had become an entity, alive, pulsating with raw, unchecked force. The psychic energy pouring from Drakor and Ethan was so dense, so all-encompassing, that it bent the very fabric of existence. Space contorted unnaturally, warping like liquid, shadows twisting into grotesque forms that slithered and pulsed with unnatural hunger. Time stuttered, flickering erratically. one second dragging into eternity, the next vanishing in an instant.

Lightning tore across the sky in unnatural hues. Crimson, violet, and abyssal black arcing like the hands of vengeful gods. Spectral figures flickered in and out of existence, echoes of the fallen drawn forth by the battle's cataclysmic energy. Some screamed in agony. Others reached out, hollow-eyed, as if seeking vengeance or salvation.

And still, the war raged.

For the first time since this war started, Drakor did not treat his foe as mere amusement. The smirk of superiority was gone after this exchange, replaced by a sharp, calculating focus. His attacks were no longer casual displays of dominance but precise and deliberate—born from the realization that his opponent was not just a nuisance but a true threat.

Their battle raged across the battlefield, a storm of unrelenting force and impossible speed. They moved like phantoms, one moment clashing mid-air amidst the storm-wracked sky, the next vanishing in streaks of light and shadow, reappearing in the ruins of crumbling citadels. Every strike sent shockwaves that tore through the war-torn landscape, toppling fortresses and splitting the earth.

Ethan's dagger, now an extension of his will, sang with abyssal energy, cutting through Drakor's psychic barriers as though they were parchment. Each strike left behind streaks of distortion, fractures in reality where the fabric of the world momentarily unraveled. Where his blade touched, existence itself recoiled.

Drakor responded with raw, celestial force. Deprived of his psychic shields, he wielded pure, overwhelming force. His counterattacks came like divine hammers, each swing of his arm birthing golden shockwaves that bent the sky and shattered the land. Glacial canyons in the distance crumbled beneath the echoes of his blows. The very air screamed in protest as his power distorted gravity itself, dragging entire chunks of the battlefield into the sky before hurling them back down in apocalyptic ruin.

Ethan barely evaded, twisting through the onslaught, feeling the heat of cosmic fire sear the very essence of his being. His soul burned with the strain. Each near-miss sent waves of unbearable energy lashing through his body, threatening to tear him apart on a molecular level.

One mistake, just one misstep, would mean annihilation.

Drakor suddenly threw his head back and laughed, the sound splitting across the battlefield like a chorus of deranged voices, echoing from every direction at once. It was not the laughter of arrogance, nor of amusement. It was something far more terrifying. A rapture born from chaos itself.

His golden eyes blazed, no longer mere irises but swirling vortexes of divine madness, each flicker of light within them pulsing like a dying star. His very presence warped the battlefield, distorting the air with an unnatural gravitational pull, as though reality struggled to contain him.

"Yes! This is it! The convergence of fate I have sought!" he howled, his voice no longer bound by mortal constraints, layered with overlapping tones. Deep, guttural, and celestial all at once. His words trembled through the earth and sky alike.

He lifted his arms, and the air itself shuddered. The very atoms around him vibrated in response, as if caught in the pull of something beyond comprehension.

"The fear of death, the dread of defeat! This is what it means to transcend!" He spread his hands wide, and golden flames erupted around him, forming spiraling runes of ancient power in the sky. The battlefield darkened, the stars above twisting and distorting as if recoiling from the sheer force of his awakening.

"I discard my mortal limitations," he declared, his form shimmering, flickering between dimensions, his very existence an unstable paradox. His aura flared, rippling outward in gravitational waves, bending time and space itself. "And in doing so, I rise!"

Ethan gritted his teeth, steadying his stance. The weight of Drakor's power was unbearable, pressing down on him like the crushing pull of a collapsing star. Every second of this battle was not weakening Drakor, it was feeding him.

The golden radiance surrounding Drakor flickered, then darkened. His luminous aura did not fade; instead, it condensed, compacting into something far more terrifying. Where once he had shone like a divine beacon, now he pulsed like a dying star. A singularity of raw, unfathomable power.

His form sharpened, his body no longer a mere vessel of flesh but something transcendent. His features were still humanoid, yet unnervingly perfect, as if he had shed the imperfections of mortal existence. His veins glowed with molten gold, his movements no longer disturbing the air but warping it entirely, bending space around him as though the universe itself was struggling to hold him in place.

And then, he vanished.

A mere breath later, he was in front of Ethan.

The movement had not been speed, it had been something else. He had not traveled through space; he had simply been there.

Ethan's instincts barely saved him. His dagger rose just in time to meet Drakor's attack..

CRACK!

The impact detonated like a celestial hammer striking the fabric of reality. The ground beneath them shattered into dust. The very air tore apart, ripples of broken space cascading outward. The battlefield itself screamed, a deafening, otherworldly sound that sent shockwaves rippling across the land.

Ethan was flung like a meteor as his armor disintegrated.

His body crashed through the ruins of the war-torn stornghold. The ground caved beneath him as he finally struck the earth, carving a deep, smoldering trench across the battlefield hundreds of meters long.

The watching coalition forces felt it then...the unbearable weight of Drakor's presence.

A presence so vast, so impossibly overwhelming, that it pressed down upon them like the gravity of a collapsing star. Their bodies trembled involuntarily, sweat pouring down their faces as their minds fought against an instinctual terror.

Some dropped to their knees, gasping for breath. Others clutched their heads, fighting the overwhelming sense of wrongness in the air. Even the sky above seemed to recoil, the stars twisting and distorting as if they too rejected his existence.

Drakor Krenna was no longer a being of power.

He was an anomaly, a violation of reality itself.