2026-07-30 18:47:56For a creature of darkness like the Ashen Seraph, this was absolute torture.
"Leave him alone!" Bruce yelled. He tried to stand, but his legs wobbled. His Void-Forged Body was strong, but it was badly damaged by the holy fire from earlier.
"I am going to purge you both!" Bontus sneered. He kicked his golden boots into the sides of his horse of light.
The golden hound charged forward.
The tiny room turned into a chaotic, claustrophobic nightmare.
The horse leaped directly at the Ashen Seraph. The Seraph could not fly away. It could not dodge to the left or the right. It was pinned between the low ceiling and the stone walls.
The Seraph raised its thick, skeletal arms, summoning a shield of dense black smoke to protect itself.
The golden horse slammed its front hooves into the smoke shield.
HSSSSSSS!
The sound of the holy light burning the dark smoke was deafening. It sounded like a massive piece of meat being thrown onto a red-hot grill. The impact shook the entire room.
The Seraph groaned. Because it was hunched over, it had no leverage. The weight of the golden horse pushed the giant angel backward. The Seraph’s back crashed into the stone wall, cracking the rocks.
Bontus did not wait. While his horse pinned the angel, the High Inquisitor swung his flaming broadsword down in a brutal, heavy arc, aiming for the Seraph’s neck.
The Seraph barely moved its head in time. The flaming sword missed its neck but sliced deeply into its left shoulder.
"RAAAARGH!" the Seraph roared in pain.
Holy fire exploded from the wound. Instead of bleeding, the Seraph leaked white smoke and silver ash. The holy magic burned like acid, eating away at the angel's dark existence.
The Seraph fought back. It pushed hard, using its massive physical strength to shove the horse of light away. The Seraph summoned its Blade of Lost Tears. The dark smoke-sword appeared in its hand, and the angel swung it at Bontus.
But the cramped space ruined the attack. The Seraph’s sword hit a thick iron pipe on the ceiling, slowing it down. Bontus easily raised his golden shield, blocking the dark blade.
CLANG!
Sparks of black and gold rained down on the floor.
"You are nothing but a rat trapped in a jar!" Bontus laughed wildly. He swung his flaming sword again and again in quick, brutal strikes.
The Seraph could only block. It could not use its full power. In a large plaza or an open field, the Seraph would have summoned a storm of ashen fire. It would have moved with blinding speed. But here, hunched over with its wings pinned against the walls, it was nothing more than a giant punching bag.
Bontus was a master swordsman. He knew exactly how to use the tight space to his advantage. He kept his horse moving, pressing the Seraph against the wall, striking relentlessly. Every time the flaming sword touched the Seraph, it left a deep, burning wound that glowed with white-hot holy fire.
Bruce watched in absolute horror. The terrifying, ancient monster that he had summoned—the creature that had made Lady Hestia tremble in fear—was being slaughtered right in front of him.
"I have to help," Bruce thought, his heart pounding. "I cannot let him die for me."
Bruce forced himself to stand up. His muscles screamed in protest, but he ignored the pain. The Brand of the Void on his shoulder was throbbing, aching for magic.
Bruce did not summon his sword. He needed both hands. He needed his speed.
Bruce kicked off the stone wall and sprinted forward. His Void-Forged Body propelled him across the tiny room in a fraction of a second. He aimed to flank the High Inquisitor, trying to attack Bontus from the blind side while the man was busy fighting the Seraph.
But High Inquisitor Bontus was not a normal guard. He was a veteran of a hundred magical wars.
Bontus saw Bruce moving out of the corner of his eye. Without even turning his head, Bontus pulled hard on the magical reins of his mount.
The horse of solidified sunlight suddenly spun around. It kicked its powerful back legs out, aiming directly at Bruce.
Bruce saw the glowing golden hooves flying toward his face. He quickly crossed his arms in front of his chest to block.
SMASH!
The kick felt like being hit by a solid wall of burning iron. The sheer force of the blow shattered the bones in Bruce’s forearms. But the physical impact was not the worst part.
The horse was made of pure, concentrated holy magic. When its hooves touched Bruce, a wave of intense, blistering heat washed over him. The holy fire leaped from the horse’s hooves onto Bruce’s clothes and skin.
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Chapter 52
Hestia looked up at Bruce. Her face was covered in blood and wet dirt. Her eyes, which used to look at him with such cold, cruel arrogance, were now filled with absolute, pure terror. She opened her mouth, but she was too weak to speak. She just whimpered, raising a trembling, bleeding hand to protect her face. She expected Bruce to summon his dark sword and cut her head off. Bruce looked down at the Matriarch of the Iron-Heart Clan. He looked at the woman who had locked his mother in a cage, who had branded his shoulder, and who had ordered him to be treated like garbage for nineteen years. He could easily kill her right now. It would take one second. But Bruce did not raise his hand. He realized that killing her here, in the rubble, was too easy. She was already defeated. Her gate was destroyed. Her secret battery farm was exposed to the church. Her elite army was dead. Hestia was going to have to explain this massive failure to the rest of the noble clans and the angry Inquisi
Chapter 51
The Blade of Lost Tears materialized in his grip. But it was not a normal sword of dark smoke anymore. Fueled by the Seraph’s full localized power and the explosive Ashen Fire, the sword grew. It expanded massively, shooting up into the rainy sky. It became a towering pillar of black and white flames, sixty feet long and ten feet wide. It looked like a column of absolute destruction. Bruce grabbed the hilt of the massive, sixty-foot pillar of fire with both hands. He did not feel the weight. The magic moved with his will. He ignored the army of Inquisitors behind him. He ignored the holy spears and fireballs flying at his back. He focused entirely on the giant monster and the massive eighty-foot gate blocking his path to freedom. "I am the Devourer," Bruce’s voice boomed. It sounded like an earthquake. Bruce swung the massive, sixty-foot sword of Ashen Fire directly at the Northern Gate. He swung it in a perfect, horizontal arc. The giant pillar of black and white fire hit Hest
Chapter 50
"Very little, Master," the Seraph replied. "Only enough for one final attack. But I cannot come out of your shadow. The holy net will burn me instantly.""You don't need to come out," Bruce commanded. "I am the Devourer. I am the bridge. I want you to push all of your remaining power directly into my body. Every single drop. I will channel your true, localized power through my own flesh."The Seraph was completely shocked by the order. "Master, you cannot do that!" the Seraph warned quickly. "My power is Forbidden. It is too dense, too chaotic! Your Void-Forged Body is strong, but you are still a mortal boy! If I push my full power through your cracked core, it will break your bones! It will tear your muscles apart! You might explode!""I don't care!" Bruce shouted out loud. His sudden shout made Bontus and Hestia stop arguing. They both looked down at the boy in the glowing net. "I don't care if it breaks my bones!" Bruce yelled, his voice echoing over the rain. He opened his eyes
Chapter 49
Bruce Thompson lay flat on the wet, cold cobblestones. The holy net of pure, burning hard-light was wrapped tightly around his body. The magic acted like glowing ropes of fire, pinning his arms to his sides and his legs together. Every time he took a breath, the net burned deeper into his wet clothes and his skin. He could smell the sickening scent of his own burning flesh. He was completely trapped. Above him, the giant, mutated monster that used to be Lady Hestia looked down. She was fused into the massive, eighty-foot Northern Gate. Her giant iron face twisted into an ugly, jagged smile. Her eyes burned with red, stolen blood-magic. She raised her massive foot, which was made of heavy iron beams and sharp spikes. She hovered it directly over Bruce’s head, ready to stomp him into a bloody paste. "I have you now!" Hestia’s monstrous voice roared. The sound shook the heavy rain in the air. "You are nothing but a trapped rat, Bruce! A little, dirty rat caught in a trap!"But befor
Chapter 48
The Seraph was not strong enough to stop the monster completely, but the dark chains slowed the giant arms down for just one crucial second. Bruce used that second perfectly. He ran straight up the falling right arm. His bare feet found traction on the rusty iron and the glowing red spikes. He sprinted up the massive arm like it was a ramp, defying gravity. "Get off me!" Hestia screamed. She tried to shake her arm, but Bruce was too fast. He reached the shoulder of the giant monster. He leaped off the metal joint, launching himself high into the air, directly toward the center of the gate. He was flying straight toward Hestia’s giant, ugly face. Bruce reached his left hand out. The Brand of the Void on his shoulder flared with its maximum power. The deep purple light illuminated the rainy night. He was ready to pull the corrupted magic right out of her brain. He was ready to end the Matriarch once and for all. "I am going to eat you alive, Hestia," Bruce whispered as he flew thro
Chapter 47
Without even slowing his sprint, Bruce reached his left hand up and caught the glowing red fire-arrow directly out of the air. He did not even look at it. He simply absorbed the fire magic into his palm, turning the iron arrowhead to rust, and kept running. The guards on the ground were completely decimated. They could not fight back. They could not even defend themselves. Every time they swung a weapon, Bruce was already behind them. Every time they tried to use magic, Bruce ate it, growing stronger, faster, and more deadly. It was not a battle. It was a harvest. In less than sixty seconds, the remaining twenty Iron-Guards on the ground were completely erased. There were no bodies. There was no blood. There were only piles of gray ash quickly washing away in the freezing rain. Bruce slid to a stop. His bare feet dug deep grooves into the wet stone. He was breathing deeply, but he was not tired. The stolen magic rushed through his veins, repairing his torn muscles instantly. The
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