CHAPTER 364: CHAPTER 363 - THE CAPITAL, CLUCKLES, AND THE IMPORTANT NEWS.

In Velmoria.

The royal capital trembled like a frightened beast with every boom that echoed through the atmosphere.

The sky—black and bleeding with red light—reflected off the shattered marble of the palace courtyard.

The once-proud spires of Velmoria’s castle were now leaning, cracked and broken, their elegance buried beneath clouds of dust and drifting ash.

And high above, on the balcony of the royal chamber, Lia stood still.

Her pink hair danced in the howling wind as her eyes—glowing faintly with life energy—stared toward the distant wasteland.

There, where a vast forest once stood proud, she could still see the flashes of cataclysmic power—lightning, flame, and gravity waves that warped the horizon itself.

That was until it suddenly stopped.

The flashes stopped. The ground stilled. Even the air felt... muted.

"...It’s quiet," Lia whispered.

Down below, Velric barked out orders, his deep voice echoing through the ruined courtyards.

"Get the civilians to the lower districts! Move every soldier to reinforce the outer walls! The tremors might return—move, all of you!"

Knights sprinted across the courtyard, mages erected hastily layered barriers, and healers charged their mana as they tended to the injured.

The capital was chaos barely kept in check by desperation and duty.

But Lia’s eyes never left the horizon.

Her hand clenched around the balcony rail, the veins glowing faintly with mana. "Old man... Father-in-law... What’s going on out there?"

A sudden silence like that could mean only one of the two things: either the fight had ended or something unexpected had happened.

But if the fight had ended, then why were Crisaius and Argon still not here?

Now, as the silence dragged on, Lia grew increasingly concerned.

But just then—

BOOOOOOOOOOOM!!!

The sound arrived first. A deafening sonic blast that shattered every remaining window in the capital.

Then came the light.

A streak of red fire tore through the clouds like a descending meteor, trailing vaporized air and molten plasma.

It was moving so fast it broke the sound barrier five times over before slamming into the castle courtyard.

The impact was biblical.

A crater swallowed the center of the capital. The entire palace lurched, its right wing collapsing as shockwaves rippled through the air.

But miraculously, no one died.

Velric’s earlier evacuation had cleared the area just in time.

Still, the people screamed from afar as debris rained down like ash.

Lia was already in the air before the dust settled.

She stepped on a root of a tree that lifted her, leading her toward the ground.

Her mana flared as she landed amidst the debris, vines spreading instinctively to block the smoke and heat.

The moment her feet touched the shattered courtyard stones, she felt it—an energy signature.

Familiar.

Burning.

Barely alive.

She froze mid-step, her pupils dilating. "Wait... that can’t be..."

She dashed forward through the smoke, her hands glowing bright red.

And then she saw him.

At the crater’s center was Rufus.

His body was wrecked beyond recognition. His nanoparticle armor had fused into his flesh, molten red lines burning across his frame like magma veins.

Every breath came with a crackle of charred air. The ground beneath him hissed from residual plasma.

He looked like he’d been launched by the gods themselves.

Lia’s eyes went wide in alarm. "Rufus!"

She dropped to her knees, her vines wrapping around him, infusing life energy into his wounds. But as her mana sank into his body, she realized with horror that his regeneration had stopped.

It wasn’t failing—it was burned out.

The cellular nanites inside him were dead. His mana circuits were scorched. He wasn’t healing anymore.

He would definitely start healing again, but it wouldn’t be anytime soon.

"Rufus..." she whispered, her voice trembling, "what did you do to yourself?"

Rufus’s eyelids twitched open. His eyes were bloodshot, his voice a rasping whisper barely audible through the static hum of burnt nerves.

"...How long... was I flying for...?"

Lia’s breath hitched. "Flying? You mean—"

He coughed—a dry, painful sound like metal scraping metal. "Fifteen minutes..."

Her eyes widened.

Fifteen minutes.

Her mind raced. ’The Ashen Expanse... that’s hundreds of kilometers away. Even with full mana flight, that should take hours!’

But she didn’t need to ask how. She saw the melted armor, the way the nano core pulsed faintly with nuclear-level radiation.

He had used explosive propulsion—the nanoparticles detonating in microbursts behind him—turning his body into a living missile.

It was genius, but it was also suicidal.

"Why, Rufus?" She said, her voice breaking as she pushed more healing mana into him. "You could’ve died! You almost—"

He lifted a shaking hand and grabbed her wrist weakly. "...No... time..."

"Don’t you dare talk like that—"

"Listen," he rasped, his eyes locking onto hers with grim urgency. "Tell... the old man... to go to the Ashen Expanse... now..."

Lia froze.

"Raven..." Rufus coughed again, blood spilling down his lips, sizzling as it hit his armor. "...is facing something... above Level Ten. If Crisaius doesn’t go... he’ll die."

The world seemed to stop around her.

Raven—fighting something beyond Level Ten?

Does that mean Raven was fighting a being with power equal to the demon she had seen a while ago?

Her hands trembled, healing light flickering.

If she left now, Rufus could die within minutes. His life force was already fading.

But if she didn’t go, Raven—

Her heart raced. "No... no, no, no..."

She clenched her jaw, mind torn between two impossible choices.

And then—

"Cluck."

Lia froze.

She slowly turned around.

Amid the debris stood Cluckles, perched on what remained of a stone gargoyle head, his little red scarf fluttering like a heroic cape in the smoke.

His beady eyes glowed with the wisdom of a thousand lifetimes (and the stupidity of a chicken).

"Cluckles sees... confusion in the plant lady’s eyes," he said solemnly, his tone echoing like a sage delivering divine prophecy. "Do not fear, for Cluckles shall take this mission."

Lia blinked. "...Cluckles?"

The chicken nodded gravely. "Yes. Cluckles shall deliver the message to the grumpy old man, even if it costs Cluckles’s noble life. For Cluckles is not afraid of death—only of overcooked rice."

"Wait—what—" Lia tried, but he was already spreading his wings dramatically.

"Plant lady... You focus on keeping the fried man alive," he declared, pointing one wing toward the unconscious Rufus like a commander giving orders. "Cluckles shall bring salvation. Or at least dramatic entrance music."

Before Lia could utter another word, Cluckles took off—his wings glowing with divine light.

"CLUUUUUUCKLEEEEEESSSSSSS... OUT!!!"

He vanished into the sky like a rocket, trailing golden feathers and smoke, leaving Lia in a stunned silence.

For a long moment, all she could do was stare after him, her mouth slightly open.

Then she exhaled—long and slow. "...Please don’t die, you ridiculous bird."

She turned back to Rufus, her hands glowing bright once more as she poured mana into him.

.............................

Meanwhile, the battlefield that had once roared with divine chaos was now a graveyard of silence.

What had been forest and stone was now glass and shadow. Craters overlapped like open wounds, and time itself felt fractured—air shimmered where the fabric of reality had been torn apart by power beyond mortal comprehension.

At the very center of it all stood two men.

Crisaius and Argon.

Their armor cracked, their bodies bleeding, their mana nearly extinguished—yet they stood. Straight-backed. Defiant.

Across from them, the demon tyrant still laughed.

His obsidian skin gleamed with molten cracks, steam rising from the wounds that refused to stay closed.

Though shrunken to human size, his presence warped the world around him—a walking singularity of rage and ruin.

"Hahaha—hah!" His laughter broke into a ragged cough, then rose again, distorted and feral. "Pathetic... look at you two."

He dragged a claw across his chest, smearing his own molten blood, the scent of brimstone thick in the air. "Bleeding, broken, and still pretending to stand proud."

His grin stretched unnaturally wide. "You’re humans. You should’ve been ash hours ago."

Argon didn’t answer. His greatsword was buried in the ground beside him, the metal warped from heat. He merely stared, breathing slow and even—like a predator waiting for a heartbeat.

Crisaius, on the other hand, chuckled, spitting out blood. "Ash? You’re looking a little crispy yourself, champ."

The old man’s grin was wild, his spirit blades flickering at his sides. "Don’t tell me the ’high-rank tyrant’ forgot how to moisturize."

The demon sneered, ignoring him. "You... surprised me. Both of you."

He flexed his left arm—it crackled with crimson energy as the severed bones realigned, regenerating faster than flesh could follow.

"For mere newborns to the Imperial Realm to push me—me, a fourth-stage imperial, this far? Unprecedented."

Then his smirk returned, teeth glinting like black diamonds. "But if you couldn’t do at least this much, the gift of Time and Space would’ve been wasted on you."

Crisaius’s expression darkened. "Gift, huh? Buddy, only people with an inferiority complex call others’ talents gifts."

"Bah!" The demon spat, growling as it added, "Enough. You’ve entertained me long enough. Let’s—"

CRAAACK—!

The demon froze mid-sentence. His arm—the same one he’d just regenerated—twisted violently before exploding into fragments of black and red flame.

"AAAAAAARGH!" He roared, clutching the stump as black steam burst from the wound. "What—what did you—"

"Finally," Crisaius muttered, straightening his back with a groan. "I thought you’d never step there."

The demon’s eyes darted downward—and widened.

Lines of faint blue light glowed across the cracked ground, encircling him like constellations. The glow shimmered faintly with shifting depth—one moment near, the next impossibly far—the very air around it distorting like a heat haze.

They were traps made of space elements.

And mixed between them—golden glyphs frozen mid-motion, flickering erratically like dying clockwork—were time traps.

The demon realized it was too late.

He had been moving too fast and wild, beating the shit out of Argon and Crisaius, but he now realized that he had been playing in their hands.

Now, he stood in the center of a lattice of death.

Crisaius grinned wide enough to look unholy. "How’s it feel, hotshot? Being the fastest rat in a maze where every wall bites?"

The demon snarled, his aura flaring, but when he tried to move, his right leg jerked—time froze for half a heartbeat—then resumed, forcing him to stumble.

He growled again, slashing his claws, but each movement rippled through the traps, bending light and space around him like a mirror fracturing.

Argon finally raised his head, his tone grim. "It’s done. The field’s sealed. He can’t escape."

Crisaius tilted his head. "Yeah, but we still gotta kill him before he regenerates again."

Before either could move—

CLUUUUUUUUUCK!

A deafening cluck echoed from above, startling both warriors mid-fight.

The air split open as something streaked through the smoke like a divine comet of feathers and flame.

BOOM!

Dust and dirt blasted outward as Cluckles landed dramatically between the two men, wings spread, red scarf fluttering like a hero’s banner.

"Behold!" The bird proclaimed, his voice echoing as if through divine reverb. "Cluckles has arrived!"

Both men blinked.

Even the demon paused for a heartbeat, staring at the tiny bird with visible disbelief.

Crisaius broke first. "...What are you?"

He knew it, but those words inadvertently left his lips.

"Cluckles, messenger of urgent doom!" the chicken declared, puffing out his chest. "Cluckles brings word from the fried man to the leafy lady, who told Cluckles to tell you—"

He drew in a dramatic breath. "RAVEN IS IN TROUBLE!"