Rise of The Abandoned Husband

Chapter 652 - 652 - The Unmasking and the Colossus's Wrath

The silence that followed my declaration was absolute. For a heartbeat, no one moved, no one breathed. Then chaos erupted.

"Impossible!" Dominic Ashworth's voice cracked with disbelief. "You're dead! We confirmed it!"

I kept my eyes fixed on Bancroft, whose face had turned to stone. Behind me, Isabelle stirred weakly, her fingers grasping at the hem of my robe.

"Liam?" she whispered, the sound barely audible above the growing commotion.

Julian Radford pushed to the front of the crowd, his face ashen. "The extraction process... if it's truly you, how did you survive our raid? We leveled your entire compound!"

I didn't waste breath answering. Every second mattered for Isabelle. I knelt beside her, gently brushing hair from her face.

"I'm here," I murmured, just for her. "I'm alive, and I'm taking you home."

Her eyes fluttered open, clarity briefly replacing the haze of pain. "You came... for me."

"Always," I promised, squeezing her hand.

From the corner of my eye, I spotted Darian Bancroft's expression shifting from shock to cold calculation. He raised his hand, signaling to someone behind the altar.

"Knight," he called out, voice dripping with false cordiality. "What an unexpected pleasure. I had believed the reports of your demise."

I stood, positioning myself protectively in front of Isabelle. "Sorry to disappoint you."

"Not at all." Bancroft's smile never reached his eyes. "Though I must say, your power has grown... impressively. Almost unbelievably so."

I felt rather than saw the movement of Guild members surrounding us. They were trying to be subtle, but their energy signatures gave them away.

"Step aside, Bancroft," I warned. "I'm taking Isabelle out of here."

His smile widened. "I'm afraid that's not possible. The subject—"

"Her name is Isabelle," I cut in, anger flaring.

"—is critical to our research. Decades of planning have gone into this moment." He gestured toward her. "Surely you can appreciate the greater good at stake?"

Before I could respond, I sensed a gathering of energy behind me. I spun just in time to block a sneak attack from a Guild technician, his ceremonial dagger aimed at Isabelle's throat. With one fluid motion, I disarmed him and sent him sprawling across the floor.

"The greater good?" I snarled, turning back to Bancroft. "You're draining her blood for power. There's no greater good in that."

Darian's façade dropped. "Enough of this. Guards!"

Twelve figures in black and gold robes materialized around us, moving in perfect coordination. These weren't ordinary guards—their energy signatures pulsed with trained power. Martial Marquises at minimum, perhaps even early-stage Martial Saints.

"The Veridia Twelve," someone in the crowd gasped.

I'd heard whispers about this elite unit. They were said to be the Guild's ultimate enforcers, deployed only in the most critical situations. That they'd been present at this ceremony spoke volumes about Isabelle's importance to their plans.

"Take him," Bancroft ordered. "Alive if possible. Dead if necessary."

They attacked as one, a perfect formation designed to overwhelm even the most powerful opponent. Against an ordinary Martial Marquis, it would have been devastating.

But I was far from ordinary.

I met the first strike with my sword, golden energy flaring along the blade. The impact sent tremors through the floor, cracking the marble. I pivoted, dodging another attack while countering with a palm strike that sent one of the Twelve flying across the hall.

"Impossible," Dominic Ashworth muttered from the sidelines. "No one has ever..."

I had no time to savor his shock. The remaining eleven adjusted their formation, moving with increased caution. Two broke off, circling toward Isabelle.

"No!" I roared, unleashing a wave of energy that knocked them back. "You don't touch her!"

The effort left me momentarily open. A blade sliced across my shoulder, drawing blood. Another strike caught me in the back. Pain flared, but I pushed it aside.

Focus. I couldn't get distracted by rage. S-a!mpl#e f-ro*m@ My Virt#u&a.l Li*br!a^ry! Em$p+ir*e—r%ea-d m^o#re% on M%&@VLE*M*PY&R!.-

Three attackers came at me simultaneously, their movements perfectly synchronized. I parried the first, dodged the second, but the third connected—a palm strike to my chest that would have killed a normal man.

I staggered but remained standing. Blood trickled from my mouth, but I smiled.

"Is that the best the mighty Veridia Twelve can do?"

One of them—their leader, judging by the insignia on his robe—narrowed his eyes. "He's not going down. Use the formation."

They regrouped into a precise circular pattern around me, each drawing a formation flag from within their robes. The flags began to glow with ominous power.

I needed to move quickly. Gathering my energy, I lunged at the nearest guard, my sword a blur of golden light. It caught him just below the ribcage, piercing through ceremonial armor and flesh alike. His eyes widened in shock—they clearly hadn't expected me to be able to penetrate their defenses.

"Jian!" one of the others cried out as their comrade fell.

Eleven left. But killing one had cost me precious seconds.

The formation activated, and bands of restrictive energy wrapped around my limbs. I fought against them, muscles straining. The remaining guards pressed their advantage, attacking with renewed vigor.

Blows rained down. I blocked what I could, absorbed what I couldn't. Each impact jarred my bones, each slice of their blades drew more blood. But I refused to fall.

For Isabelle. For everything they'd done to us.

I broke free of the energy bands with a roar, my counterattack catching three guards off-guard. They went down hard but not fatally. Eight remaining, all looking considerably more wary.

"Enough of this," their leader spat. "Summon it."

The eight survivors pulled back, forming a tight octagon around me. Each raised their formation flag high, channeling power into it until the flags glowed like miniature suns.

"Lord of Carnage, Breaker of Will," they chanted in unison, "rise from the depths to crush our foe!"

The floor beneath my feet began to tremble. Fractures appeared in the marble, spreading outward in a spiderweb pattern. A sickly green light seeped through these cracks, filling the air with the stench of ancient power.

"Get back!" I shouted to the onlookers, many of whom were already fleeing. "Everyone get out now!"

The floor gave way completely. I leaped clear as a massive stone hand erupted from below, large enough to crush a horse. It was followed by another, then a hulking, misshapen head. The creature pulled itself from the depths beneath The Aegis Academy—a colossal statue composed of countless humanoid figures twisted and fused together in eternal agony.

"The Ten Thousand Demonic Statue," Bancroft announced with triumphant malice. "An ancient guardian, bound to the Guild's service centuries ago."

The monstrosity towered over me, at least twenty feet tall, its body a writhing mass of tortured forms. Thousands of faces screamed silently from within its stone flesh. Its eyes—all of them—fixed on me with mindless hatred.

I glanced back at Isabelle, still lying vulnerable near the altar. I needed to end this quickly.

"Come on then," I challenged, raising my sword.

The statue roared—a sound like a thousand souls in torment—and swung one massive fist. I dodged, the impact cratering the floor where I'd stood. The shockwave alone was enough to send debris flying in all directions.

I struck back, my blade enhanced with concentrated energy, slicing into its arm. Stone chips flew, but the damage was superficial at best. The statue didn't even seem to notice.

Its other fist came around in a wide arc. I jumped, intending to clear it, but the statue anticipated this. Its fingers extended impossibly, catching me mid-air and slamming me into a nearby pillar.

Pain exploded through my back as stone crumbled around me. I barely had time to roll clear before the statue's foot came down, pulverizing what remained of the pillar.

This was bad. The creature was faster than its size suggested, and seemingly impervious to normal attacks. And every second I spent fighting it was another second Isabelle lay dying.

I needed to end this.

Summoning every ounce of power I could muster, I charged forward, my sword blazing with golden light so intense it hurt to look at directly. I aimed for what appeared to be a seam in the statue's chest—a potential weakness.

The blade connected with a thunderous impact. For a moment, I thought I'd succeeded—the statue staggered back, a crack appearing where I'd struck.

Then its hand closed around me, fingers like stone pillars squeezing with crushing force. Pain lanced through my ribs as they threatened to give way. The statue lifted me high, as if displaying its catch to the remaining spectators.

Through blurring vision, I saw Bancroft's satisfied smile, Dominic's vengeful glee, and Isabelle's terrified eyes as she struggled to reach out toward me.

"Liam!" she cried, her voice breaking with effort.

The statue slammed me down onto the marble floor. The impact drove the air from my lungs and sent cracks racing through the foundation of the building. Before I could recover, it raised both massive fists high above its head.

I tried to move, to roll away, but my body wouldn't respond fast enough.

The fists came down like twin mountains, striking with enough force to shake the entire Academy. The floor beneath me gave way completely, and I plummeted downward amidst a cascade of rubble and dust.

But the statue wasn't finished. It leaped down after me, landing with a crash that sent tremors through the earth. As the dust cleared, I found myself in what must have been the Academy's basement level, surrounded by broken support columns and shattered stone.

I struggled to my feet, tasting blood. My sword was still in my hand, but my grip was weakening.

The statue advanced, each step making the ground shudder beneath my feet. Nearby walls began to crack from the reverberations. The entire structure above groaned ominously.

"Is this how it ends?" I thought grimly, spitting blood. "After everything?"

No. Not like this. Not with Isabelle still in danger.

I squared my shoulders, ignoring the screaming pain from my broken ribs. Golden energy flickered around me, weaker now but still present.

The statue raised its fists once more. I braced myself, sword at the ready, knowing the next impact might be my last.

As the massive fists descended toward me, I could hear Bancroft's voice from above, cold with satisfaction:

"Crush him. Leave nothing behind."