The air in the cavernous, half-ruined Grand Hall of the cathedral tasted of ancient dust and a metallic tang—the scent of imminent, brutal violence.
Kane moved with the coiled, almost unnatural grace of a predator who had long ago forgotten what fear felt like. His breath plumed in the cold, dusty air as he summoned the [Sleeper Killer]. The weapon materialized not with a fanfare of light, but with the sickening whisper of metal tearing through reality. It took the initial form of a heavy, two-handed Hengdang—a blade-tipped polearm, brutal and defensive, which he immediately braced for the inevitable, horrific onslaught.
He barely had time to register the shift in the atmosphere before the engagement initiated. The attack was an aerial ambush, a viper's strike from above. The entity, known only as the Snake, had utilized a nightmare parody of flight—a sight-based Teleportation—leaping from the precarious perch of a fractured, ornate chandelier. It intended to strike Kane as he stood on the worn, marble steps leading up to the choir stalls.
But the entity had miscalculated the scope of the resistance.
Before the Snake could fully materialize and deliver its killing blow, Clarice acted. Her response was not just immediate; it was a furious, elemental negation of the enemy's maneuver. From the outside, where the moonlight struggled to pierce the high, shattered windows, she unleashed her power. The very stone of the ancient church groaned under her command. A razor-sharp, aggressive earthen spire erupted from the staircase, violently disrupting the Snake's trajectory. The impact didn't just knock the creature off course; it sent a seismic shudder through the hanging fixture above. The heavy iron-and-crystal chandelier, denied its anchoring, shattered with a deafening, kinetic chaos, raining down jagged glass shards and twisted metal like a storm of razor teeth.
This single, brutal countermeasure was a masterstroke. It denied the creature its visual vantage—its terrifying ability to teleport on sight—and plunged the vast hall into a swirling vortex of shadow, noise, and kinetic energy.
Yet, the Snake was not so easily dispatched. It was a mythological thing, born of terror and ancient power. It landed heavily, the sound of its impact muffled by the debris, and immediately showcased two terrifying traits. First, its high durability: the blow from the stone spire, which should have pulverized any lesser creature, only seemed to enrage it. Second, and far more sinister, was the deployment of a subtle, pervasive, soul-sucking ability.
It wasn't a sudden, crushing blow, but a pervasive chill, a horrifying spiritual drain that began to seep into the very marrow of Kane's being. It mandated a rapid, desperate escalation of his own power.
The Sleeper Killer, recognizing the existential threat, fluidly shifted its monstrous form. The defensive hengdang melted and reformed, the metal screaming without sound, into a devastatingly heavy greatsword. To wield such a massive, strength-demanding weapon—and to counter the debilitating fatigue caused by the creature's essence drain—Kane was forced to activate his most powerful defense: the Wood Shell armor.
The transformation was ugly and visceral. Dark, bark-like plating erupted from his skin, accompanied by a surge of pure, molten anger that was less an emotion and more a brutal, kinetic force. This surge amplified his physical strength, allowing him to lift the immense greatsword and meet the mythological entity on its own savage terms.
Clarice, meanwhile, solidified their position, anchoring the volatile conflict. With grim determination, she employed powerful Earth Manipulation to turn the very floor of the sacred hall into an insurmountable obstacle. Deep, jagged seismic fault lines and sheer, earthen barriers erupted, crisscrossing the marble like the gaping wounds of a mortally struck titan. This strategy was not for damage, but for control. It permanently restricted the Snake's strategic teleportation—forcing it to rely only on localized, desperate 'blinks' within the smaller, now-divided pockets of the floor.
With the enemy contained, Clarice pressed the attack, her battle-axe a blur of silver and crimson. She utilized wide, sweeping slashes and precise hook-and-pull maneuvers, not to kill, but to test the creature's monstrous resilience, probing for any weakness in its hide.
But the ultimate, overwhelming threat remained the spiritual drain. Every second that passed was a second closer to a complete, soul-crushing exhaustion. It necessitated Kane's final, most devastating move.
With a roar that was more of a desperate prayer than a battle cry, he triggered the divine Realmheart transformation. The change was immediate, otherworldly, and terrifying. His skin shifted from the earthen tones of the Wood Shell to a vibrant, electric blue. His entire form was suddenly, impossibly, illuminated by a network of ethereal golden runes that pulsed with focused, ancient energy.
This transformation was his salvation. It granted him the requisite spiritual immunity—nullifying the Snake's horrific drain—and a potent, focused kinetic power needed to combat a creature of this mythological scale.
The end was a flawless, synchronized act of annihilation.
Clarice executed her part with savage precision. Using the raw, uncompromising power of her Earth Manipulation, she physically immobilized the Snake, creating an earthen vice that clamped around the creature's midsection, pinning it to the floor. Simultaneously, she utilized a precise Hook and Pull with the axe blade, sinking the hook deep into the creature's shoulder mass and yanking, ensuring the beast could not flinch or squirm. This created the one, critical window they needed.
The Realmheart-amplified Kane brought the greatsword down. It was not a swing, but a falling mountain of kinetic force and focused spiritual power. The strike was a decisive, overhead chop that cleaved through the Snake's armored, mythological body, annihilating not just its durable physical form, but utterly eradicating its corrupt, spiritual essence as well.
The air went silent, the pulsing gold of the runes on Kane's skin slowly fading as the Unknown Snake dissolved into a fine, acrid dust.
Then, a chilling, spectral voice echoed only within Kane's mind, a cold pronouncement from the depths of the Spell:
[You have killed an Awakened Devil, Replicas]
Kane let the greatsword dissolve, his skin still faintly tingling with the spent power. He looked at Clarice, his breathing ragged, and the question left his lips, sounding raw and disbelieving: "Is this regular?"
Clarice merely gave a grim, curt nod. It was all the confirmation Kane needed to know that this nightmare was merely their new normal.
The cathedral quickly became a hub of tense, subdued activity. Everyone in the cathedral surrounded the incident site, their faces a mixture of shock and morbid curiosity.
Norman, who had witnessed the terrifying spectacle, looked up at Kane and Clarice with a mixture of respect and concern. Linia, leaving a silently watchful Missy secured in their temporary room, rushed to Norman's side.
She leaned in, her voice a low, urgent whisper that was instantly swallowed by the vastness of the hall: "So, what exactly happened?"
Kane, now exhausted but his mind racing, quickly and concisely explained everything—the sight-based teleportation, the soul drain, the necessity of the Realmheart.
Linia listened, her expression darkening with every detail. When he finished, she didn't offer comfort. She offered a stark, brutal assessment: "Well, you have a trait that invites trouble."
Norman, his eyes fixed on the rapidly dissolving serpentine carcass, offered a chilling perspective. "Luckily, it didn't enter your mouth, or else you would be a goner."
Kane's imagination, a treacherous thing in times of stress, immediately conjured a vivid, grotesque image of the creature's essence sliding down his throat. His face contorted with involuntary disgust. "Nope. No."
Norman, a veteran of more than a few grim realities in this wretched place, gave a measured look. "Well, I get it, but it is possible. It is time to better be careful."
After the necessity of the group's check-in and the dispersing of the tense crowd, Kane and Linia walked the echoing, cold hallways back toward their quarters.
Linia broke the heavy silence first. "We need to be careful about the snakes, huh."
Kane glanced at her for a moment, the golden runes still faintly imprinted on his vision. "Yeah. We need to stay careful until we find a fiftieth member and finally escape."
Linia stopped him, her hand gently resting on his arm. Her tone shifted from casual to serious, imbued with a gravity that made the hairs on the back of his neck prickle. "Then I need to tell you something."
Kane looked at her, his curiosity immediately spiking. "What is it?"
Before Linia could speak, a third voice broke into the charged moment. Missy, who had been silently staring at them, spacing out like a doll, suddenly 'woke up,' her eyes focusing with an unnerving, hyper-aware intensity.
"So, you are planning to do it, huh?" Missy's voice was flat, devoid of emotion, yet somehow knowing.
Kane's state went from curiosity to outright confusion. "What is exactly happening?"
Linia offered a small, polite, yet deeply unsettling smile. "I will share all of my secrets. And, to be fair, I want you to share yours."
Kane was genuinely taken aback, a wash of shock across his face. "Why are you doing this? You know there is nothing beneficial to you."
Linia looked up at him, her eyes clear and resolute. "It is beneficial for both of us. But the main reason is this: I want you to trust me. And I will spill my secrets. You won't need to tell yours."
Kane was surprised. He understood the reason—mutual trust was currency here—but no one he had ever known had offered such a profound, one-sided vulnerability just for the sake of an ally.
He gave a decisive nod. "Thanks, but no need to do that for me."
Linia shook her head, an unreadable depth in her gaze. "No. I need it for myself, and for you."
Kane looked at her for a long moment, the horrific image of the Snake fading, replaced by the weight of this sudden, unexpected intimacy. "Then let me tell you about mine. It should be something fair, after all."
And so, in the cold, echoing hall, Kane told her everything. He recounted the tragic, devastating account of his parents' death at the hands of a mysterious broken sword. He spoke of his Aspect Legacy and the crushing weight of its potential. He saved only his true name, fearing that to share it might, in some esoteric way, rob her of her freedom or jeopardize her future.
Linia listened, her expression growing from quiet attentiveness to profound, white-hot shock. By the end, a wave of cold rage washed over her features, an emotion so pure and ferocious it was terrifying to witness.
She didn't look at Kane; she stared into the middle distance, her jaw clenched. "Seriously, what type of bitch is Nephis? Willing to sacrifice a whole people to destroy the Spell because she hates it?"
She then turned her blazing gaze onto Kane. "You know, you are truly a kind person. After all the things her clan and she did to you, you saved her many times. Yet she repays you by stabbing you in the back." Linia paused, taking a deep, shuddering breath, her fury an almost physical force in the air.
"Let me tell you this." Her voice dropped to a dangerous, low pitch. "If I survive this place and return to the waking world, I will make sure that she won't achieve her goal if it is resulting in a genocide like what happened to my Nation."
Kane tilted his head, a genuine confusion settling over him. 'Nation? Is she a Legacy or something? An operative of a powerful state?' The pieces didn't quite fit.
He spoke his thought out loud: "So, when did you have a nation?"
Linia let out a soft, knowing chuckle, the anger momentarily subsiding. "Sure. I will explain everything. I think it might be related to your Aspect Legacy."
Kane's eyes widened. Her story, he realized, was bigger than he had initially thought—a history woven into the very fabric of the nightmare they inhabited. He signaled her to continue, his focus now absolute.
Linia looked first at Kane, then at Missy, who remained silently, unnervingly hooked up to the conversation, her strange, vacant stare fixed on a point beyond them.
Linia leaned in, her voice dropping again, whispering words that felt too large for the confines of the room, words that hinted at a reality far more expansive and terrifying than the Spell itself: "Have you heard the terms Beyonder, Pathways?"
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From Next few chapters,There will be flashback of Linia
Kindly Give me review Comments and Powerstones
Here are the few Webnovel stories I might start (not Immediately,But surely I will)
1.Shadow Slave: Lumian Lee
Spoilers for the Domain war:
Lumian Lee and Aurora Lee,who was awakened who was in Valor Clan,When lord of shadows and Song of the fallen Siezed the domain from the Soveriegn,Unfortunate things befalled on them,What happened?Lumian must forge his own path from his own blood and conflicts
2.LOTM:New Greater Old One
Morpheus,the transmigrated into the world of lord of the mysteries,is forced to take the most crazy pathway switches that makes even alista Tudor see sane
3.LOTM:I am king Grey
The original MC of Tbate,King Grey/Arthur Leywin,when he died,what will happen he transmigrated into Loen Kingdom instead of Dicathen?
4.Shadow Slave: I am Azik Eggers
A transmigrator who landed on Shadow slave named himself Azik Eggers,unknowingly followed a fixed fate.