Emperor's Reckoning

Chapter 1265: You Are Not Ready For This Reality

Inside the maelstrom of storm and fury, Lyon stood as a solitary figure of calm and dominance. The tempest roared around him, a chaotic backdrop to the intense struggle unfolding at its center. The two seraphs, their once-majestic wings now tattered and their divine grace diminished, were locked in a desperate battle against Lyon. The contrast between their exhaustion and his unwavering composure was stark.

The seraphs, breathing heavily and covered in bruises and cuts, tried to regroup, their pride wounded as much as their bodies. Their divine power, once thought to be insurmountable, was being systematically dismantled by the Zodiac Emperor. Each time they tried to launch an attack, Lyon was there, effortlessly countering their moves with a precision and skill that left them reeling.

With a sudden and decisive move, Lyon struck. His hands, swift and powerful, came down on their shoulders with a force that seemed to resonate through the very fabric of the storm. The impact was so intense that the seraphs were propelled downwards, their bodies creating a massive crater upon landing. The ground shook violently, debris scattering in all directions.

Lyon descended gracefully between them, his posture relaxed and his expression one of calm authority. His hands were clasped behind his back, and his gaze was fixed on the two defeated seraphs sprawled before him. The contrast was stark—while the seraphs lay groaning and struggling to move, Lyon’s breath remained steady, a testament to his control and the effortless manner in which he had subdued them.

"Is this the best the celestial beings can muster?" Lyon’s voice carried over the howling wind, his tone laced with a mixture of disdain and amusement.

The seraphs, their divine arrogance now shattered, could only groan in response. Their wings, now barely functional, twitched weakly as they lay in the crater. The storm continued to rage above them, but within this small bubble of chaos, Lyon’s presence was the eye of the storm—calm, unyielding, and utterly in control.

The older seraph’s mocking laughter echoed through the swirling tempest. "You just made a grave sin! The All-Father won’t stay idly by!" His voice was filled with arrogant defiance, but there was an edge of desperation in his tone.

Lyon’s eyes narrowed, a wicked grin creeping across his face. "Tell me, would he be mad at me... or at you? Getting beaten by a cultivator with no wings," Lyon’s voice was as cold as the storm that raged around them. "You think you’ll still have a home in Paradise after this humiliation?"

The seraphs’ bravado shattered instantly, the older one choking on his retort. Their pride, their divine superiority, had been torn apart, and the harsh reality struck them like a blade. Panic flashed in their eyes as they realized the consequences of their defeat. "Kh?!" the younger one stammered, struggling to muster strength. But Lyon moved faster.

Before they could even react, Lyon’s hands gripped their faces with vice-like strength, canceling any momentum they had tried to gather. Their mana energy flared for a moment, but it was instantly nullified, dissipating into nothing. The seraphs’ struggles grew frantic, but every ounce of power they summoned vanished into thin air. Panic overtook them, muffled grunts escaping their lips as they futilely tried to break free.

With a guttural growl, Lyon smashed their heads together. The impact reverberated through the air with a sickening crack, and their vision blurred. Their consciousness teetered on the brink of fading, but Lyon wasn’t done. He shoved both of them into the ground, their backs facing the storm-filled sky.

Without hesitation, Lyon planted his boot on the neck of the seraph with three pairs of wings. He looked down with merciless eyes. "This one is for Aunt Enya," he muttered, his voice carrying the weight of personal vengeance.

With both hands, he gripped the seraph’s wings. His forearms tensed as veins bulged from the strain. The seraph’s scream pierced the storm as Lyon tore at the wings. His divine feathers scattered in the wind, and with one final, brutal pull, Lyon ripped the seraph’s wings clean from his body. The celestial cries of agony echoed across the heavens, leaving the older seraph broken, defeated, and humiliated beneath him.

The younger seraph scrambled to his feet, heart pounding with sheer terror. "Eeek!!" he squealed, taking to the skies with all the strength he had left. His wings flapped furiously, ignoring the pain that racked his body from the brutal beating he had endured. Desperation fueled his escape as he flew toward the city, hoping—praying—for sanctuary.

Through the haze of fear, he spotted her. A woman with hair split between black and white, flanked by her formidable group. His heart leaped with a flicker of hope. "T-There is a cra—" His voice choked in his throat, and the words died on his lips. She was smirking.

The morning sun flickered, casting the world into sudden darkness for the briefest moment. A blink of night in the midst of day. It was just enough. Everyone felt it—the unsettling stillness, the ominous shift in the air. And in that instant, Lyon shot down from the sky like a bolt of fury.

His foot slammed into the young seraph’s back with the force of a falling star. The ground cracked beneath the impact, and the seraph’s body dragged across the soil, tearing up the earth as Lyon rode him down like a predator subduing its prey. A low, menacing growl escaped Lyon’s throat, seething with barely contained rage.

"No, no, please! I worked hard for this, please, please!!" The seraph begged, his voice trembling as he writhed beneath Lyon’s unyielding boot.

Lyon leaned in, his voice a cold whisper against the seraph’s ear. "No."

In a single, merciless motion, Lyon ripped the seraph’s wings from his back. The sound of tearing flesh and bone echoed through the air, followed by the seraph’s agonized scream. His cries filled the silence, but there was no one to hear them—no mercy left for him.

The once-proud celestial creature lay broken, wings torn, body limp, unable to even roll over in his agony. Lyon stepped away, the weight of his wrath still palpable in the air.

Behind him, his students knelt on one knee in silent reverence, their eyes fixed on the man who had just brought two seraphs to ruin.

Esmeralda, concealed beneath a cloak, hurriedly made her way out of the city. Her eyes darted across the horizon, catching the faint silhouette of Lyon’s group vanishing into the distance. Her heart pounded, the shockwaves and distant rumbling stirring something deep inside her.

*I saw them running... they are Lyon’s group... he must have something to do with this!*

Her pace quickened, but before she could take another step toward the chaos, a cold voice cut through the air.

"That’s far enough."

Esmeralda froze. Selena stood before her, a blade drawn and ready, her stance unwavering. The air between them grew thick with tension.

Cecile emerged from behind Selena, her expression calm, yet sharp as her gaze swept over Esmeralda. With deliberate steps, she moved past Selena, her presence like a quiet storm. A serene smile tugged at her lips, but there was something ominous beneath it.

"You’re not ready for the reality inside the tempest yet," Cecile said, her tone firm but gentle. "Return to the city, and think nothing, say nothing, assume nothing."

Esmeralda clenched her fists beneath the cloak, her lips parting to argue, but the weight of Cecile’s words left her speechless. There was something in the woman’s eyes, something unspoken, that made resistance feel futile.

Without another word, Cecile turned away, her back to Esmeralda, as she and Selena continued their march toward the heart of the storm. Esmeralda could only watch them disappear, the weight of her curiosity and dread sinking deep into her bones.

She wasn’t ready—not for the tempest, and certainly not for the truth it harbored.

As Esmeralda reluctantly turned back toward the city, her thoughts still tangled with uncertainty, another figure brushed past her in a flash. The woman’s pace was brisk, her steps light yet purposeful. Esmeralda’s eyes widened as she caught a glimpse of the woman’s striking blue iridescent hair that shimmered in the morning light.

It was Maria.

Despite the tempest raging in the distance and the tension hanging in the air, Maria moved with ease, as if the storm had no hold on her. Her expression was one of calm determination, completely unbothered by the chaos unfolding around her. The simple dress she wore did nothing to conceal her confidence. She was no ordinary woman; anyone could see that.

"Hey, you two! Wait for me!!" Maria called out, her voice cutting through the wind as she ran after Selena and Cecile.

Esmeralda stood frozen for a moment, her cloak rustling in the gusts, watching as Maria effortlessly closed the gap. There was no hesitation in her steps, no fear in her eyes. In that instant, it became clear to Esmeralda—this woman was something far more formidable than she appeared.

Esmeralda watched them go, an odd sense of awe settling over her. There was more to Lyon’s group than she realized—so much more.