CHAPTER 1161: DEPLETING THE WELL (1).

He could feel the Core’s energy coursing through him now, burning his nerves raw, fusing into his veins like molten fire. His body wasn’t just fighting—it was changing, against his will.

A pulse of gold erupted outward, flattening everything in a half-mile radius. When the light cleared again, Cain was still standing—but barely.

The Core’s heart was gone, reduced to slag and silence.

Nebula forced a weak laugh. "You lunatic... you actually did it."

Cain didn’t reply. His eyes were locked on his own hands—hands that now shimmered faintly with gold lines, tracing over his skin like circuitry.

Something had imprinted itself onto him.

He stumbled once, catching himself on the remnants of a broken wall.

Nebula, still kneeling, tilted his head. "What’s wrong?"

Cain’s voice came low, hollow. "It’s not over. That thing wasn’t just a machine—it was a lock. And I just broke it."

Nebula frowned. "A lock for what?"

The sky answered for him.

A low, rumbling sound rolled across the horizon. The clouds, shredded and burned, began to twist into a spiral directly above the crater. The light from the Core’s destruction reflected upward, forming a beacon into the storm.

Cain’s chest tightened. He didn’t know what waited beyond those clouds. But he could feel it watching back.

Nebula rose shakily, following his gaze. "You think it heard us?"

Cain didn’t blink. "It always does."

The ground rumbled again—deeper this time, resonant like the world itself had drawn breath.

Whatever was sealed beneath the Core was awake now.

And the war that had driven them here was about to look small in comparison.

The storm above did not fade—it breathed.

The spiral clouds churned faster, forming a massive, yawning vortex that blotted out the stars. Winds tore through the ruins, carrying sparks, ash, and shards of molten glass into the air. Every broken fragment glowed faintly gold, pulled toward the crater’s center like debris caught in orbit.

Cain could barely stand. His entire body trembled—not from fear, but from the residue of the Core still seething in his veins. He felt heavier. Slower. The faint golden circuitry pulsing across his skin responded to something above, syncing with the rumble in the sky.

Nebula stood across from him, expression unreadable. His remaining arm hung limp, the other still bent at an unnatural angle, yet his eyes refused to dim.

The earth cracked between them.

A column of molten rock burst upward, then froze midair, the liquid metal suspended as gravity fractured. The battlefield was coming undone—spatial layers collapsing, like the world’s geometry was peeling apart under invisible pressure.

Cain’s instincts screamed. "Get back!"

Nebula didn’t move. He raised his chin, watching as a figure began to descend through the vortex. Not falling. Not flying. Simply arriving.

It wasn’t human.

The light bent around it, outlines warping, armor formed of blackened alloy that drank in every trace of radiance. A single burning halo hovered behind its head, fractured and incomplete. Its wings—metallic and feathered in shimmering scales—dragged the air like scythes.

Nebula whispered, voice caught between awe and dread, "An Archon..."

Cain grit his teeth. "That’s no Archon. That’s what they were guarding."

The being’s gaze locked onto the two of them. Its eyes—cold, mechanical, and impossibly deep—flared with recognition.

TARGETS IDENTIFIED. CORE GUARDIAN SUBROUTINE: REACTIVATION

Its voice wasn’t spoken aloud. It vibrated through the air, every syllable like thunder inside bone.

CAIN. NEBULA. UNAUTHORIZED DESTRUCTORS.

Cain spat blood and straightened, barely staying on his feet. "Of course it knows our names."

Nebula chuckled hoarsely. "You’re the one who broke its toy."

PUNISHMENT PROTOCOL: EXECUTION.

The Archon’s halo expanded, fracturing into rotating rings of light. Energy threads lanced outward in every direction, slicing through the clouds, the ground, even the air itself.

Cain reacted on instinct. The {Golden Tyrant} materialized again, barrels glowing dangerously bright. He fired before he could even think.

Golden slugs tore across the battlefield, hitting the Archon dead center. The explosions rippled outward—but when the light cleared, the being hadn’t moved an inch.

Nebula took advantage of the distraction, summoning what blades he could still control. They rose sluggishly, dented, chipped, and warped—but they obeyed.

They screamed through the air, striking from every direction at once.

The Archon raised a single arm.

Every blade stopped mid-flight.

The air shuddered—then the blades twisted in on themselves, snapping like glass under pressure.

Nebula stumbled, gasping as the connection severed. "It... broke my link."

Cain didn’t stop firing. The recoil shattered the ground behind him. His vision blurred. The air stank of ozone and molten earth.

Then, in the blink of an eye, the Archon moved.

It crossed the distance between them faster than sound. Cain barely got an arm up before a metal fist drove into his chest, sending him skidding across molten stone like a rag doll.

Nebula threw himself aside, barely avoiding the follow-up strike. The shockwave that followed leveled half the crater rim.

Cain coughed violently, blood splattering across the ground. His ribs were broken. Maybe more.

He raised his arm, firing again—but the weapon misfired, the golden glow sputtering into smoke.

Nebula’s breathing was ragged, but he refused to retreat. "You’re running dry, aren’t you?"

Cain snarled. "Shut up and move!"

Nebula ignored him, spreading his fingers wide. The ground behind him split open, molten streams surging upward. He dragged them together, forcing the liquid metal to compress.

The strain made his body shake, his veins glowing faintly with silvery light. The molten mass condensed into a single massive spear, its tip jagged and uneven, burning white-hot.

He hurled it.

The Archon didn’t dodge. The spear struck true, slamming into its chest with a deafening crack. For a heartbeat, the light inside the creature flickered.

Cain seized the opening.

He poured the last of his energy into his body, golden light bursting from the lines carved into his skin. The ground split beneath him as he propelled himself forward, every muscle screaming.

He slammed into the Archon with everything he had left.

The impact rippled like a small sun going off.

The explosion drowned out all sound, light swallowing the crater, turning the night into a violent dawn. The air convulsed.