Before using the enhancer, Michael could already fight and kill late-stage Rank Three beings.
Though he had yet to truly test his limits, Michael could not help but feel that his current self could face Beginning and Ghost one on one, back before they had entered Hell.
It was absurd.
In truth, it was only when Michael paused to reflect on his strength that he realized how far he had co. His growth was abnormal by any standard. Perhaps it was because powerful enemies appeared one after another that he rarely had the chance to recognize it himself. However, none of that was Michael's imdiate concern.
The mont his Law surged in strength, he abruptly lost the delicate control he had maintained over Wisdom's traits. He did not even dare to move, afraid that a single misstep would place him in a helpless position.
Using Wisdom in the current situation was also inappropriate.
So Michael shifted his Law's target to another undead better suited for what was about to happen.
Spartan.
The Law of Abyssal Pyre.
This was Spartan's Law.
A tri-elental fusion born from the union of Fire, Water, and Darkness, it corroded and purified simultaneously. The Abyssal Pyre devoured vitality and mana, reduced matter to ash, and then reford that ash into spiritual residue usable by its wielder.
The higher the purity of the target's elent, the stronger its consumption beca, and the greater the reform.
It was no wonder that the first impression people had upon witnessing it was that of a persistent, destructive parasite, one that devoured endlessly and never released its grip once attached.
Black flas appeared the mont Michael switched from Wisdom to Spartan.
In a single breath, the darkness thickened, condensing into fire that was unmistakably fla yet refused to obey the rules most fire followed. It did not flicker wildly. It did not crackle. It burned in complete silence.
The black flas wrapped around Michael's hands and climbed his arms, spiraling upward in controlled coils. They licked along his forearms, layered over muscle and bone, forming a living mantle of abyssal fire that stopped just short of his shoulders.
They did not burn him.
His skin did not char. His clothes did not singe.
Yet the heat was undeniable.
Rynne felt it imdiately.
Her armor scread as runes flared in ergency response. She took
an involuntary step back, her throat going dry.
The black flas gave off a dreadful sensation that pressed directly against the soul. It was not fear in the normal sense.
The breathing tal reacted even more violently.
Its crimson glow surged, pulsing erratically as the tentacles recoiled for the first ti since the battle began. The writhing mass trembled, segnts grinding against one another as if the tal itself were trying to retreat while lacking the ans to do so.
A shrill vibration rippled through the cavern.
The tal felt it.
Sothing within those black flas could erase it.
And it was not wrong.
Michael planned to use the abyssal fire to put an end to all of this.
Michael ca to the conclusion that the tal had beco
corrupted. The clearest proof was the contradiction in its very existence. It was called a tal, yet what lay before him resembled a mass of living flesh more than any refined material.
This corruption explained everything. Its fall from Epic grade to barely the peak of Extraordinary was not due to damage or improper storage, but a fundantal change in nature. The breathing iron had killed countless beings, devouring them to grow. What had once been an inert material had evolved into sothing that possessed needs and desires.
After transforming into a flesh-like entity, it had been sealed away and starved for nearly two thousand years. Deprived of sustenance, its power withered, its form twisted further, and its essence decayed. It was no wonder that it now looked less like a precious tal and more like a demonic material, sothing unnatural.
Michael flexed his fingers slowly.
The abyssal fire followed the movent, tightening around his knuckles and flowing seamlessly with his intent.
Rynne swallowed hard.
"Michael..." she said, her voice lower than she intended.
Michael did not turn. His attention remained fixed on the writhing
mass ahead, on the way the breathing tal recoiled from the abyssal flas as if instinct itself scread danger.
Rynne forced herself to focus.
"There's sothing you need to know," she said quickly. "About how
to deal with it."
"Speak."
"The only thing that needs to be destroyed is its consciousness,"
Rynne said. "Not the core."
Michael paused.
Rynne continued, urgency creeping into her voice. "That thing may
look like a monster now, but at its heart it's still a treasure. If you
destroy the core, then everything we've done here will be
aningless."
Another tentacle lashed out, but it stopped short, hovering just outside the reach of the abyssal fire, twitching violently.
"The corruption is centered in its will," she said. "That half-ford consciousness driving it to attack and devour. Remove that, and what remains can still be saved."
Michael glanced at her for the first ti.
"And if I can't?" he asked.
"Then the core collapses," Rynne replied without hesitation. "Its
structure will destabilize, and whatever potential it still has will be
lost forever."
She drew a sharp breath.
"If possible," she said, "reduce it to just its core. Strip everything else
away. I can take it back with and begin purifying it slowly."
The breathing tal pulsed violently.
"I'll be careful," Michael said at last. "I won't destroy the core."
To be honest, Michael also had ans capable of destroying the consciousness of the breathing tal but for such a precious treasure, it was too much for an experint.
Like Rynne said, it was better to leave it to the professionals.
Rynne let out a breath she had not realized she was holding.
"Good," she said softly.
The cavern trembled.
The breathing tal surged forward again, desperation leaking into its movents as the tentacles stacked effects more aggressively.
User Comments
0 comments from readers