Emperor's Reckoning

Chapter 1300: Immortal Phoenix Art : Ashes on The Fire

"Immortal Phoenix..." Aella whispered, her breath catching as she watched the scene unfold. "But how... how could he wield such fire?"

Her words barely left her lips when Rufus shot toward the sky again, rage etched into every line of his face. His wings spread wide, glimmering with celestial power, but they seemed dim next to the radiant blaze enveloping Lyon.

"Bastard!" Rufus roared, fists clenched tight as he surged toward Lyon with all his fury.

Lyon stood his ground, smirking as the seraph rushed at him. "A seraph, and you fight like a novice? That’s disappointing," he taunted, brushing some ash from his sleeve. "Guess I’ll have to teach you some respect."

With a blaze of golden fire, Lyon met Rufus’s incoming punch head-on. Their fists collided, the sound of impact reverberating like thunder. But it wasn’t just strength that Rufus felt—it was the scorching heat that spread from Lyon’s hand, searing his skin like molten lava.

"Tch—" Rufus grimaced, his teeth grinding as Lyon’s inferno burned through his divine aura.

Lyon tilted his head, a playful grin spreading across his face. "What’s wrong? Need some ice to cool down?"

Without giving Rufus a chance to recover, Lyon twisted his body midair with an effortless grace. His wings flared as he spun, and in one fluid motion, he lashed out with a devastating kick.

BOOM!

Rufus was sent flying backward, crashing through the air like a comet. The impact hurled him across the sky and into the ground with such force that the earth trembled beneath him. A plume of dust and debris shot up from the crater where he landed, leaving the crowd gasping in disbelief.

Hovering above, Lyon stretched his neck, loosening up like he was just getting started. "Come on, Rufus," he called down mockingly, "Don’t tell me you’re done already."

The spectators sat in stunned silence, watching as the seraph groaned, struggling to get back to his feet. The patriarchs exchanged uneasy glances, realizing that Lyon wasn’t just strong—he was playing with his opponent, as if Rufus was nothing more than a sparring partner.

From the stands, Ian crossed his arms, smirking. "He always did have a flair for making enemies regret their life choices."

Kesya chuckled beside him. "Oh yeah. This is gonna be fun."

Rufus shot up from the crater, dust and debris clinging to his golden armor, his pride burning hotter than Lyon’s flames. "You arrogant mortal!" he bellowed, wings unfurling wide. With a flash of light, celestial glyphs spread across his body as the temperature around him plummeted.

"Maelstorm Art: Glacial Fangs!"

Dozens of jagged ice spears materialized in the air and rained toward Lyon, each one large enough to pierce boulders. The crowd gasped as the deadly barrage descended, expecting Lyon to evade—or be overwhelmed.

Lyon, however, simply stood his ground. With a flick of his wrist, a fiery pulse rippled from his body, shattering every single spear before they could reach him. The ice dissolved into steam before it even touched his skin.

Rufus snarled, rage twisting his face. "You think this is a game?! How dare you mock me!"

Lyon gave him a lazy grin. "I mean... you kind of make it hard not to."

The seraph roared and launched himself toward Lyon with terrifying speed, the air cracking under his power. "Gale Art: Sky Ripper!" His fist tore through the air, surrounded by a vortex of divine wind. The ground cracked beneath Lyon as the sheer pressure of Rufus’s charge bore down on him.

And yet, Lyon sidestepped it—casually. Not even breaking a sweat, he leaned slightly to the side, allowing Rufus’s blow to miss by mere inches.

"Oops. Missed." Lyon winked, hands still tucked in his pockets. "You sure you’re a seraph? ’Cause I’ve seen drunkards punch better than that."

The crowd erupted in gasps and murmurs. The six young masters exchanged stunned glances, disbelief plastered on their faces.

Mavis gritted his teeth. "We knew he was strong, but this... this is unreal."

Esmeralda crossed her arms, her brows furrowed. "Even the heads of our clans couldn’t handle a seraph this easily..."

Lyra’s hands hovered over her zither, her knuckles pale. "He’s not just strong—he’s toying with him."

Meanwhile, Aella sat stiff in her seat, her expression slowly shifting from annoyance to unease. This isn’t possible, she thought, her heart pounding in her chest. What is he? Anxiety began to creep into her mind. The idea that Lyon—a mortal by all appearances—was brushing off a celestial being’s onslaught like a minor inconvenience disturbed her deeply.

Down in the arena, Rufus growled, steam pouring from his clenched fists. "Fine. No more holding back!"

He unleashed a torrent of celestial energy, and the entire battlefield was enveloped in a blinding light. "Heaven’s Fury!" Bolts of divine lightning streaked toward Lyon from every angle, each one capable of obliterating lesser beings on impact.

Lyon snorted. "That art doesn’t deserve that name."

In a blur of movement, Lyon weaved through the storm of lightning bolts with uncanny ease, each step light and graceful. The crowd could barely keep up with his movements. He wasn’t blocking, nor dodging frantically—he simply danced through the chaos, as if the deadly lightning was part of a harmless game.

Rufus’s rage boiled over as he saw Lyon emerge from the storm unscathed, wearing the same smug grin. He charged again, summoning all his power into one final attack. "Judgment Art : Spear of Joust!" The air around him shattered as he materialized a colossal lance of divine energy, aiming it straight at Lyon’s chest.

The crowd held their breath. This was the end—there was no way Lyon could dodge that.

Lyon’s grin widened. "Alright, my turn."

With a flicker of his red-golden wings, Lyon vanished, reappearing right in front of Rufus. Before the seraph could even react, Lyon’s hand shot out, grasping the Judgment Spear by its shaft.

The arena fell silent as Lyon stopped the attack with nothing more than his bare hand.

Rufus stared in disbelief. "W-What...? Impossible..."

Lyon leaned in, his voice low and playful. "Looks like your spear’s... defective." Then, with a casual flick, he shattered the divine weapon into sparks of light.

Before Rufus could respond, Lyon swung his leg up and planted his foot squarely on the seraph’s chest. "Off you go."

The kick sent Rufus hurtling across the arena, slamming into the ground with a thunderous impact. The seraph lay in the crater, gasping for breath, his wings bent at awkward angles.

Lyon dusted off his hands, turning to the crowd with a casual shrug. "See? Told you my wings are better."

The crowd erupted into chaotic murmurs, the awe and disbelief rippling through every seat. Even the patriarchs and matriarchs, who had once looked down with confidence, now sat quietly, their expressions unreadable.

Ian chuckled from his seat. "Well, that was embarrassing."

Kesya laughed beside him. "Rufus should’ve quit while he was ahead."

Aella gripped the edge of her seat, her mind racing. What is he? Where does his power come from? For the first time, uncertainty took root in her heart, and she found herself questioning everything she thought she knew about Lyon.

Lyon glanced back at Rufus, still lying in the dirt. "That was fun," he said with a grin. "Let me know if you want a rematch sometime... after you grow a spine."

Rufus sneered, watching Lyon hover in place, tangled by the twisting roots. "Let’s see you laugh now." His fists glowed with celestial power, ready to crush Lyon. But Lyon, hovering as if completely unconcerned, smirked in defiance.

Lyon tilted his head slightly. "Oh, so you’re persistent." He raised his hand and beckoned with a flick of his fingers. "Come here, then."

The crowd’s tension spiked, murmurs spreading like wildfire through the audience. Below, Lyon’s wives and the Six Pillars of Empyrean remained calm, even entertained, while the patriarchs sat rigid, sensing the unfolding danger.

Just as Lyon prepared to move, the ground below him flashed with eerie green light. "Huh?" he muttered, but before he could react, thick, veiny roots surged upward, latching onto him with unnatural speed. They twisted and whipped, glowing faintly, moving as though possessed by a will of their own. Lyon flapped his fiery wings, ascending higher, but the roots shot after him, coiling relentlessly through the air.

Lyon’s eyes narrowed. "This isn’t magic... these roots... they’re alive."

On the sidelines, Amara of the Red Lotus gasped in recognition. "That’s... Aella." Her gaze snapped to her sister, who stood utterly still, her hands raised in concentration. "Older sister, you... you’re really going this far?"

Aella didn’t respond, her expression tense as sweat glistened on her brow. The roots continued to snake through the air, hungry and determined to pierce Lyon.

"Pin him down!" Rufus roared as he launched himself toward Lyon, fists clenched and glowing with divine power, ready to smash him from the sky.

But just as Rufus reached him, Lyon’s voice came, soft and dangerous. "Fine. Let me show you how ruthless I can be."

Before Rufus could even register the words, Lyon spun midair with uncanny precision, as if he’d known exactly where Rufus would be. His voice dropped into a calm whisper:

"Immortal Phoenix Art: Ashes on the Fire."

Lyon’s wings flared, and with an eerie serenity, he closed his eyes, tilting his chin upward as though surrendering himself to the attack.

The roots found their mark, piercing through Lyon’s body, and Rufus’s fist slammed down toward Lyon’s head.

But it never landed.

Lyon’s hand shot up like lightning, catching Rufus’s fist mid-strike. The impact reverberated through the air with a deafening boom, but Lyon didn’t even flinch.

"Heh." Lyon smirked, his eyes glinting with fiery mischief.

Rufus’s eyes widened in disbelief. "What—"

Then came the agony.

"AHHH! AHHH!!" Rufus’s scream tore through the arena as his skin cracked under the searing heat of Lyon’s touch. Steam hissed from his knuckles as the divine fire spread rapidly through his body, peeling away layers of skin like paper curling under a flame.

Below, the creeping roots that had impaled Lyon suddenly ignited with red-golden flames. The fire slithered through the veiny roots, spreading like wildfire along every tendril and shooting downward toward the earth.

A sudden, blood-curdling scream erupted from the audience. "AAGHHH!"

All eyes turned toward Aella, whose hands were now ablaze with the same immortal fire. Her concentration shattered, and she fell to her knees, clutching her burning palms in pain. "No... NO! It’s spreading—" The fire seemed to crawl under her skin, a burning agony she couldn’t extinguish.

Amara’s breath hitched, watching in horror as her sister writhed.

The crowd gasped, horrified and mesmerized all at once. The very roots Aella had conjured to bind Lyon were now betraying her, feeding the flames back into her own body.

Rufus was no better. Still caught in Lyon’s grip, his celestial skin cracked like dry clay, and the divine light within him flickered erratically. "S-Stop...!" he gasped, struggling against Lyon’s iron grip, but Lyon didn’t let go.

"What’s wrong?" Lyon asked, his voice smooth and mocking. "Need some ice?"

The roots that once pursued Lyon were reduced to ashes mid-air, disintegrating into embers that scattered like sparks in the wind. From the sky, golden-red droplets of flame rained down, each flicker evaporating before it hit the ground.

Hovering in the air, Lyon’s wings blazed, and the crowd stared in awe—no longer cheering, no longer skeptical. They were witnessing something beyond what their minds could grasp.

Mavis clenched his fists, cold realization setting in. "That... that’s the power of the Immortal Phoenix. We never stood a chance."

Ning bit her lip, her heart pounding. "Even our heads of clans wouldn’t be able to fight a seraph this effortlessly... and Lyon’s just toying with him."

Lyon scoffed and released Rufus’s seared hand, letting the battered seraph fall from the sky like a moth that had strayed too close to a flame. Rufus hit the ground with a dull thud, twitching, his wings singed and lifeless as embers danced along the remains of his charred feathers.

The arena was silent, the crowd stunned into speechlessness. Even the patriarchs and matriarchs, who had witnessed countless battles, felt the weight of the unthinkable: a mere mortal had not only faced a seraph but reduced him to this pathetic state without breaking a sweat.

But Lyon’s attention wasn’t on Rufus anymore. His eyes, calm and sharp, flicked to the sidelines where an uninvited third party dared to interrupt.

Before anyone could react, the Six Pillars of Empyrean—Liu, Kesya, Ian, Assid, Graham, and Harvestasya—moved as one, appearing in front of Aella. They blocked her retreat with effortless precision, their gazes cold and predatory.

Aella froze. The playful demeanor that normally adorned the Empyrean warriors was nowhere to be seen. Each of them radiated silent menace, their expressions grim.

Ian grinned, though it didn’t reach his eyes. "You’re bold, I’ll give you that."

Kesya cracked her knuckles, her playful nature laced with something dangerous. "Targeting the boss with those roots? That’s gutsy."

Assid adjusted his gloves methodically, like a predator waiting to pounce. "The audacity to interfere... it cannot go unanswered."

Liu’s invisible blade rested lightly in his hand, but the way he stared at Aella—calm and focused—was more unnerving than any outburst. "This isn’t your playground, little bird."

Graham loomed silently, his massive form casting a shadow over Aella. His expression was impassive, but the tension in his shoulders was a silent warning.

Aella’s hands, still throbbing with phantom heat from Lyon’s fire, tightened into fists. Anxiety clawed at her, but she held her ground. She was no ordinary fighter—she was a seraph. Yet, there was something about these six... a sense of unity, of lethality, that even a seraph couldn’t easily dismiss.

Harvestasya took a step closer, her voice soft but cutting. "Do you know what happens to those who harm our master?"

Aella kept her composure, though sweat glistened at her temples. "This was part of the fight. Don’t get in over your heads."

Ian leaned closer, his eyes gleaming with amusement and warning. "Over our heads? You’re standing in a firestorm, little angel, and you don’t even know it."

The tension between them crackled in the air.

From above, Lyon descended slowly, his flaming wings shrinking until they disappeared. He landed between the two groups with a casual step, looking from his Six Pillars to Aella with a knowing smirk.