Emperor's Reckoning

Chapter 1324: The WAR IV - The Old One Appear, but... So Does He

"A human mastering the Giant Arts?!" Hass’s voice carried disbelief, his brows furrowed as his eyes flicked toward Graham in the distance, standing amidst the aftermath of his colossal attack.

"Focus, seraph," Liu’s calm yet razor-sharp voice interrupted. In an instant, a flicker of motion lunged toward Hass—a phantom slash.

Hass reacted just in time, parrying the invisible blade, but the force made him take a step back. He clenched his jaw, scanning his opponent for weaknesses.

"You have good reflexes," Liu remarked, his tone devoid of admiration. "But unfortunately for you, my blade is better."

Hass widened his eyes as he felt a sharp sting on his cheek. Glancing at his reflection in his blade, he noticed a thin, precise cut, and fresh blood traced the wound.

"You...!" Hass snarled, fury flaring in his golden eyes.

"Time to dance," Liu declared, his focus unwavering. He moved with the fluidity of a river, his hilt of the invisible sword cutting through the air with deadly precision.

The two swordsmen clashed, their movements a mesmerizing display of agility and lethal intent. Sparks flew as Hass’s glowing blade met Liu’s unseen weapon, their duel an intricate choreography of parries and ripostes, neither giving an inch.

---

"Isn’t this amazing?!" Rakumtatak’s booming laughter echoed across the battlefield as his relentless assault bore down on the Paladin. Each swing of his mighty axe sent shockwaves rippling through the air. "Come on, old-timer! What’s your name? Or have you forgotten it ’cause you’re so ancient?!"

The Paladin’s stoic face twisted with irritation. "Don’t be so cocky, you repugnant beast!" With a deft move, he planted a powerful kick on Rakumtatak’s chest, pushing him back a few strides. Raising both of his gleaming swords, he declared, "Seraphim Art: Hail!"

A massive, concentrated bolt of divine light began to form above the Paladin, its brightness intensifying until the air around it shimmered. The gathered seraphs and fighters shielded their eyes from its radiance.

Rakumtatak stood his ground, his grin widening into a feral snarl. "That’s cute."

The bolt shot forth, tearing through the battlefield like a meteor descending from the heavens. But the Ogre Emperor merely raised his colossal axe, the runes on its edge glowing fiercely. With a mighty swing, he cleaved the divine bolt in two, the halves dissipating into harmless light.

The Paladin’s expression faltered.

"Don’t you get it yet?" Rakumtatak’s voice was a growl, his aura flaring with violent intensity. "I’m the same as the Zodiac Emperor! I too am an anti-mana Zenith Cultivator—the Ogre Emperor!"

Without wasting a moment, Rakumtatak lunged forward with beastly ferocity, his axe trailing destruction. The ground beneath his steps cracked, and the air itself seemed to quake under his sheer might. The Paladin braced himself, his twin swords raised, but the force of Rakumtatak’s charge promised nothing short of devastation.

---

Far above the battlefield, a lone seraph broke through the defenses and found himself within the floating empire of Empyrean. Awe flickered in his eyes as he beheld the empty streets, the pristine architecture steeped in an eerie silence.

"Impossible," the seraph muttered under his breath. "This is the stronghold of the Zodiac Emperor?"

As he pressed forward, he reached the gates leading to the palace itself. There, amidst the quiet desolation, stood a lone figure—a woman with blonde hair tied neatly behind her head, her sharp eyes fixed on him. She wore gloves, her stance casual yet commanding, as if she had been expecting him.

"You made it farther than I thought," she remarked, her voice calm but laced with authority. "Just as Empress Cecile predicted, one would slip through."

The seraph froze, assessing her. Her presence wasn’t overwhelming like the warriors on the battlefield, but something about her was... off. He frowned, his gaze narrowing. "And who are you?"

"Karina," she replied, her tone devoid of grandeur. "Golden Demoness of Nostria."

"Nostria?" The seraph scoffed. "Never heard of it."

Karina’s lips curved slightly, though her eyes remained cold. "That’s fine. We’ve never invited your kind."

The seraph’s jaw clenched at her audacity. "Arrogant woman," he sneered. "No cultivation? I see now. You’re like him." His wings flared as he dropped into a battle-ready stance, focusing his divine energy.

Karina slid her gloves tighter, a hint of amusement flickering across her face. "And yet, you still hesitate."

An arrow zipped through the air with deadly precision, the taut string’s snap echoing faintly behind it. It hurtled toward the back of the seraph’s head, its deadly tip promising a swift end.

The seraph’s ears twitched as his instincts screamed. "Hmm?!" He side-stepped just in time, the arrow grazing a strand of his hair. His sharp gaze darted toward the source, his lips curling into a sneer.

From the opposite road stood a figure, a man with striking features—a blend of human ruggedness and elven grace. His blonde hair shimmered faintly under the light, and his eyes glinted with resolve. He lowered his bow, muttering, "Damn it, so close."

The seraph’s indignation flared as his focus shifted entirely to the archer. "You!!" His wings flared wide, the light from them dazzling against the backdrop as he prepared to retaliate.

Jugen, Karina’s younger brother and an old friend of Lyon’s from Nostria, smirked, lowering his bow. His voice carried a hint of playfulness. "What? Miss your haircut appointment?"

Before the seraph could respond, a sharp force slammed into the back of his head. His vision blurred as he hurtled forward, skidding to a stop in the middle of the road.

Karina dusted her gloves off casually, her heel still raised from the kick she had delivered. She cocked an eyebrow, looking down at the seraph with faint amusement. "Eyes on your target, birdbrain. Don’t forget, you’ve got two of us to deal with."

Jugen burst out laughing. "Big sister, you didn’t even let him finish his tantrum!"

"I thought you were done playing around," she retorted, glancing at him.

The seraph groaned as he pushed himself up, his gaze seething with fury. "You’ll regret that, mortals!"

Jugen nocked another arrow, his grin unshaken. "Regret? Buddy, you haven’t seen anything yet."

---

The clash of titans reverberated across the battlefield as Lyon and the All-Father matched strength and wit, their movements calculated, their blows measured. The air between them crackled with tension, yet something about Lyon’s demeanor unsettled the All-Father. His instincts, honed through countless wars, whispered of an unseen danger.

(He’s holding back... but why?) The All-Father’s eyes narrowed, his attacks relentless yet cautious. Lyon mirrored his intensity, his smirk infuriatingly confident as though he had nothing to lose and everything to gain.

(Is this a battle of endurance? Foolish. Even with their so-called legends, his side is outnumbered. Quantity may fall to quality, but not against Paradise. Their strength isn’t enough to overturn this war... unless...) The All-Father’s thoughts sharpened as the weight of realization settled in. (This isn’t like you, Zodiac Emperor. What are you hiding?)

Frustration bubbled beneath the All-Father’s composed exterior. His aura flared violently as he pushed forward, his voice a booming declaration. "I need to end this!"

"It ends now, Torga!" All-Father’s voice thundered, his spear raised high, its glint sharp enough to cleave through the heavens.

Lyon’s brows furrowed, his heart steady but his mind racing. He understood the weight of the All-Father’s words. This wasn’t just a threat to him—it was a death sentence to anyone tied to his name. There would be no hesitation from this enemy.

Manifestations of spears materialized around All-Father, humming with divine resonance, poised to descend with unrelenting force. But in the moment of his attack, something shifted.

The battlefield stilled. It was as if the very fabric of time held its breath. The air grew heavier, the killing intent sharper, piercing through every soul present. It wasn’t the All-Father—it was something else, something far older, far more primal.

A shadow blurred under the sun, moving faster than mortal eyes could perceive. Its aim was unerring, its intent lethal, a single thrust aiming for Lyon’s heart. For a fleeting moment, the world seemed to slow, and the predator revealed itself.

The sun illuminated an ancient figure, his form weathered but emanating an undeniable authority. The Old One—an entity predating even Lyon’s era, a remnant of a forgotten generation—stood there, his palm thrust forward with a deadly precision.

"And with this," the Old One muttered, his voice barely audible yet deafening in its finality, "Torga ends."

But Lyon’s smirk shattered the inevitability of the moment.

"Is that so?"

The Old One’s eyes widened as his strike met resistance. A hand, unyielding in its grip, caught his attack mid-thrust. In a swift motion, his arm was thrown aside, the force sending him hurtling back. He twisted mid-air, regaining his balance with a grace that belied his age, but his teeth ground together in frustration.

A figure emerged beside Lyon, his aura as overwhelming as the sun above them. Time seemed to tremble at his presence, the battlefield’s collective breath caught in their throats.

From his vantage point in the heavens, All-Father’s gaze darkened as realization dawned. "So you live," he muttered, his fingers buried into his palm.

The Old One’s voice was laced with a mix of disbelief and fury. "Aleysius!"

There, beside Lyon, stood a man whose mere presence commanded reverence and fear. Aleysius Torga—the First Torga. His aura was a storm of ancient power, colder than the void yet burning with a defiant brilliance.

Aleysius’s piercing gaze settled on the Old One, his expression unyielding, his stance unwavering. No warmth touched his eyes; even the sun seemed unable to pierce the ice within his soul.

"You’ve meddled long enough, old shadow," Aleysius said, his voice steady, a warning and a declaration in one.

The battlefield, once chaotic, now hushed in the face of two titanic forces, the past and the present colliding in a moment that would echo through eternity.