Not in one blow.
But through repetition.
If I dished out continuous strikes of Rift Slash, targeting the sa location with precision and timing the recovery intervals, I would eventually create a montary weakness large enough for to exploit. A gap. A distortion thin enough for to force a warp through before the barrier fully stabilized again.
I laughed under my breath, the sound carrying faintly upward.
Then I tilted my head back and called out to the three Chosen on the wall.
"If you’re gambling on the barrier keeping out then you’re sorely mistaken."
*
"Did you hear that?" Kharos said turning towards Drel.
"It’s a bluff," Drel argued, his tone controlled, almost clinical, but there was a strain beneath it.
Kharos didn’t look convinced.
"You and I both know it isn’t."
He wasn’t wrong.
They had felt it too. Anyone with a decent sensitivity to mana would have sensed the montary fluctuation when my rift slash struck. The barrier had dipped—subtly, but undeniably. That wasn’t imagination.
"We don’t know for sure," Drel pressed, folding his arms behind his back in a posture that tried to project calm authority. "It definitely costs a lot of mana to unleash an attack with enough power to harm the barrier. He can’t sustain that continuously."
He was thinking logically. Correctly, even. High-output spatial strikes weren’t cheap and that assumption would have been solid. If Eli were a normal Chosen.
"Is it only when he tears down the entire barrier that you’ll be sure?" Kharos shot back.
"Tearing down the entire barrier?....That’s not possible." Drel replied.
"And if it is?" Kharos challenged, voice dropping into sothing more dangerous.
There was a brief silence between them.
Drel’s jaw tightened.
"Even if he breaches it," he said carefully, "he’ll be inside a fortified settlent, surrounded by hundreds of ard goblins and multiple Chosens. There is no scenario where he walks out alive."
"Maybe," Kharos said, gaze still locked on . "But how many of ours will fall before he does? We can eliminate him here," Kharos continued. "Outside the barrier. In open ground."
"And if we lose?" Drel countered, his composure thinning slightly.
Kharos snapped his head toward him.
"Is that what you’re afraid of?" he barked. "Losing?"
"Shouldn’t that be the case?" Drel insisted, his voice no longer calm but firm. "I am not becoming another Grakk."
That line hung in the air.
Kharos’ lip curled.
"Because the chief told you to be cautious," he sneered, "or because you’re a coward?"
"Watch it."
Drel moved forward slightly, not enough to attack, but enough to make it clear that if Kharos pushed further, he wouldn’t step back. There was a subtle aggression in the movent, controlled but unmistakable, and Kharos welcod it imdiately, turning fully toward him and staring him down without hesitation.
Veyra sighed, clearly irritated.
"You two, break it off," she said firmly. "We need to decide on a course right now."
"The clan’s security should co first," Kharos replied, though his glare never left Drel.
"The barrier will not fall," Drel insisted.
"Even if we fight and lose, at least we’d know how strong he truly is," Kharos countered. "We can prepare before he breaks through. Involve the chief early. Because if he’s able to take down the three of us, then the only one who could handle him would be the chief himself."
That wasn’t entirely irrational. It was pride mixed with strategy.
But Veyra spoke again, cutting through the tension.
"We don’t have to do that to know."
"Pardon?"
Kharos turned to her with a stunned expression, clearly not expecting that from her.
"You’re not good at sensing people’s strength the way Drel and I are," she continued evenly. "Which is why you don’t understand why we shouldn’t engage him."
Kharos’ expression darkened imdiately.
"Are you calling a dolt?" Kharos asked, fully turning toward Veyra now, his pride no longer masked behind strategy.
She didn’t dignify the question with a response.
"Let’s go to the chief right now and report this," she said instead, her voice firm and practical. "He can decide how we proceed."
For a mont, there was silence.
Then Drel nodded once.
"Now that... as embarrassing as it is, makes sense to ," he admitted.
Kharos’ jaw tightened visibly, the veins along his neck standing out as his opinion was dismissed in front of the others. He had wanted action. He had wanted confrontation. Instead, caution had been chosen over pride.
He was seconds away from snapping back.
But then...
WHOOM!
The sound of impact rolled across again, louder this ti.
All three of them turned sharply toward the section of the barrier above where Eli attack had struck, but instantly another Rift Slash tore upward and slamd into the exact sa location as before.
WHOOM!
The do rippled violently, blue currents flashing outward from the impact point as if sothing inside it had been jarred loose.
And then another slash struck.
And then another.
And another.
Each one landing precisely where the previous had hit, the distortion layering over itself like repeated hamr blows against a single fracture in glass.
Over and over again.
Drel’s eyes widened, the calculation in his gaze shifting rapidly.
The area where my slashes struck was no longer recovering fully before the next impact arrived. The density of magic there had dropped significantly compared to the rest of the do, creating a faint, spider-webbed distortion in the air.
"You two still think he cannot break through?" Kharos said, his earlier anger replaced with grim vindication.
WHOOM!
WHOOM!
WHOOM!
The blows continued, each strike shaving away more stability.
Drel opened his mouth slightly but found no imdiate rebuttal. Veyra’s sharp gaze was locked on the impact zone, and even she could not deny what was happening.
If this continued long enough, the barrier would rupture.
Not collapse entirely.
But rupture.
And that was enough for Eli.
Kharos exhaled sharply, then reached down and drew his blade.
Without hesitation, he dragged the edge across his palm.
Blood welled instantly, thick and dark, dripping from his fingers onto the stone beneath him.
"You two get the chief," Kharos said, his voice no longer emotional but resolved. "I’ll hold him off."
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