CHAPTER 141: KILL THE WITCH

"Ohh, Ohhh..."The words slipped unbidden from Celestia’s lips, soft but heavy, carrying a weight no one present could mistake. Her platinum eyes, usually calm and composed, flickered with something raw as she stared at Razeal’s bare chest. A faint, platinum-colored aura seeped unconsciously from her body, swirling around her like mist caught in moonlight.

Yes, it was true she had schemed to avoid marrying him, even going so far as to create situations that would break off the engagement at the worst moments. But that never meant she hated him. She simply didn’t want to marry. Their relationship, in truth, had always been close since childhood he was one of the people dearest to her

And now, seeing his body branded with that grotesque engraving, her mana stirred violently. Her aura boiled against her will, her platinum eyes narrowing as calm fury rippled beneath her flawless exterior. He still matters to her afterall.

"Foreverine carvings..."

The observation came from Arabella, her voice casual, almost bored, as her golden eyes flicked toward Razeal. The words silently but made no attempt to hide her disdain at their meaning.

Foreverine.

One of the rarest metals in existence. Banned across the known world. Not because it was weak but because of what it could do.

Foreverine metal... Known once as the "holy metal," Foreverine had regenerative properties. The church once used it for sacred relics and high-tier armor, until a darker use emerged. If melted down and brought into contact with living flesh, it engraved itself permanently within the body, regenerating endlessly like a parasite. It would bind to the host even after death, surviving until the corpse was reduced to ash. And even then, the metal would simply melt down, ready to be used again.

There was no way to undo it unless the host gained a new body or destroyed and regenerated it from the cellular level.

With one exception ofcourse.

The Saintess of the Church of Light. Only she carried gifts bestowed directly by God.

Arabella thought this was going to be interesting. Amusing, even. Still, she didn’t particularly care.

"Ohhh, someone’s entire bloodline is about to erased over this," she yawned, raising a hand half-heartedly to her mouth. "What a predictable mess."

Then, as if punctuating her words, the coliseum trembled.

BOOOOOM.

Three distinct auras exploded outward, flooding the arena with crushing pressure.

From one side, holy gold surged from Luminus’ chamber. It was blinding, searing, burning like the sun itself had descended. But it was not calm, not balanced it was furious, out of control, a storm of light unleashed by emotions itself.

From another, bright platinum rippled outward from the Royal Chamber, sharp and cutting, controlled yet bristling with tension.

And from the third, a dark violet wave poured from the Virelan chamber, heavy as despair, suffocating as the abyss, and just as endless of not more.

The three powers collided, filling the coliseum with such pressure that every spectator felt it in their bones. Fear sank into their marrow, into their souls, raising every hair on their bodies.

Arabella licked her lips, delighted. "I expected two of them to react," she said with a soft chuckle. "But a third...? Now this is interesting." Her gaze lingered hungrily on the platinum aura, the unexpected storm from Celestia.

Meanwhile, Nova stood still, the tears on her face no longer falling but vaporizing in the raw heat of her aura. The sorrow that had cracked her composure moments ago was gone. In its place was a deadly, ice-cold clarity.

Her purple eyes glowed faintly as she spoke, her voice stripped of all softness. "Find me every location in this world where this metal was discovered."

The command left her lips like a decree carved in stone.

A figure appeared instantly behind her, silent as a shadow. Cloaked in deep purple, masked, and kneeling with head bowed. An assassin of the Virelans.

"Yes" the shadow intoned.

"You have two hours."

The shadow did not question. "Yes." With a ripple of violet smoke, he was gone.

The coliseum remained silent, drowning under the weight of three exploding auras, each ruler’s emotions spilling unrestrained. The audience dared not breathe. They all understood what this meant.

The scars on Razeal’s body had not just exposed his suffering.

They had exposed a crime.

And now, three powers of the world were about to collide over it.

Nova did not turn around. Her eyes, sharp as frozen blades, fixed only on the window before her. She stepped forward with poise, but the aura around her had changed completely. The trembling emotions from earlier were gone, replaced by something terrifyingly cold. Her expression was carved from stone and discipline, utterly devoid of warmth.

"My lady..."

Marcella’s sigh broke the silence. She adjusted her glasses with two fingers, her tone not reprimanding, but heavy, as though weighted by inevitability. She had seen this many times before Nova’s defiance, her recklessness when it came to some things.

But just as Marcella had expected the next moment.

Click.

The faintest sound of metal sliding free. Nothing else. No surge of wind, no shift in pressure, no ripple of aura. And yet Nova’s blade was gone from its sheath.

It appeared instantly at Marcella’s throat. The edge hovered like a sliver of moonlight, impossibly fast, impossibly sharp, directed with intent so precise it seemed the sword itself had chosen its target. Nova’s violet eyes were as cold as her steel utterly unfeeling, merciless.

But Marcella did not flinch.

With a single hand, she raised her fingers and caught the blade between her thumb and forefinger. No air displaced. No shockwave cracked the marble beneath them. The sword had sliced through the air so cleanly it had left not even a vacuum in its wake yet Marcella’s grip stopped it as though it were nothing more than a twig pressed against paper.

Her other arm remained elegantly folded behind her back, posture never breaking.

"Apologies, my lady," she said evenly, voice perfectly calm. "But these are the direct orders of the Matriarch. Not even you may break them."

For a heartbeat, nothing moved. Nova’s hand trembled against her hilt, her lips forming thin line.

"I’ll break it," she whispered, her voice low and venomous. "I’ll accept the punishment."

Her pride stung, but she knew the truth Marcella was immovable. Even Nova, with all her will and power, could not move her in this moment. Turning away sharply, she stepped toward the window, the fury in her heart hidden behind a mask of composure.

And then the air changed.

At first, it was subtle like the faint sensation of pressure on one’s lungs. Then, suddenly, it was suffocating.

BOOOOOOM.

A violet aura fell over the entire coliseum. Not the usual violent explosion of power, not the destructive waves that tore stone and bent steel. This was worse. This was a smothering blanket of invisible force that pressed on very soul.

The audience gasped as one, mouths opening, desperate for air that no longer filled their lungs. It wasn’t that the oxygen was gone it was that the aura itself forbade them from breathing. A silent decree that their bodies obeyed against their will.

And yet, no walls cracked. No debris fell. Not even the grass of the arena bent. The purple veil covered everything without causing destruction.

At the highest broken pillar of the coliseum stood a woman in regal deep-purple uniform. Her long, flowing violet hair drifted behind her in the windless air, and her robe fluttered like the mantle of a monarch.

"This is my son’s fight."

The words left her lips barely above a whisper. They carried no volume so quietly that, under normal circumstances, no one two steps away would have heard them. And yet the entire coliseum heard.

"Let him finish it. Until then, no one is allowed to interfere."

"And this is an Order."

Her words only for them.

And just as she said in that instant, the three mighty auras that had surged earlier paused.

Even in their rage and desperation they yielded.

The woman didn’t move or gloated, didn’t even seem to acknowledge the restraint she commanded. Her eyes remained fixed on the arena below, her face blank. No sorrow, fury or even pride.

But anyone who knew her.. truly knew her would have seen the cracks hidden beneath that mask. They would have recognized the storm she buried within behind that stillness.

Down below, Razeal raised his head. His fist clenched tightly around the strands of purple hair torn from his scalp, the remains of the ponytail that had once hung proudly behind him.

"Ohhh," he muttered, voice low, dangerous, trembling not with fear but with fury. "At first, I wasn’t fully sure that I wanted to kill you."

His gaze rose, fixed on the towering wooden colossus that loomed over the battlefield draped in pink robe.

"But now?"

The words burned from his throat like a curse, his grip crushing the strands in his palm until they cut his flesh.

"You’re dying, bitch."

His killing intent poured out, heavy and suffocating. A deep crimson aura flared violently around his body, leaking into the air like a rising storm. The crowd shuddered as the oppressive pressure rolled across the arena, visible in red flames of pure rage.

His eyes glowed blood-red, murderous and unwavering, as the battlefield itself seemed to recoil from his fury.

"Villey... how much mana did I consume?"

Razeal’s voice was cold, flat, but the killing intent leaking out of him made the air feel heavy. His eyes gleamed with suppressed fury as he forced himself to keep his tone calm.

[1.8 billion mana points, host. Even though you only used it for forty-eight seconds, the scale of your manifestation was too great. A single shadow bullet alone consumes enormous amounts of mana. You, however, created a massive construct solidification, flight, rearrangement, aura regeneration, shadow storage, and even acceleration of your shadows. The cost was inevitable.] the system answered instantly, its voice light, almost prepared in advance.

It sounded almost apologetic, as if bracing itself for his usual complaints.

But Razeal didn’t complain. He didn’t even respond. Instead, he lifted his hand, palm curling. From the darkness around him, a sword of shadow began to materialize, its surface rippling like black water before solidifying into a blade that radiated hunger. The aura around his body thickened, swirling like a storm.

"Use all six billion mana points left," Razeal ordered quietly, his voice laced with steel. "Reinforce my body. And forge me a sword worthy of what comes next."

[No, don’t, host! We still need mana for later uses. If you burn through everything now, the consequences will be... catastrophic. It will be detrimental to your survival] the system’s tone instantly shifted to alarm.

Razeal ignored it. He had already begun.

Dark mana surged from within, seeping out through his pores like black smoke. It wasn’t just smoke it was heavier, deeper, darker than the shadows that usually clung to him.

The dark mana didn’t explode outward this time. There was no shockwave, no dramatic blast for the crowd to gasp at. Instead, the mana condensed silently, invisibly violent, as if reality itself was being forced to acknowledge his control. Microscopic particles of shadow floated around him, swirling like dust motes, but each one carried deadly weight. Bit by bit, they stuck to his skin, sank into his body, and merged with his blood and bones.

His sword grew denser with every passing heartbeat. The blade was no longer just a weapon it was a manifestation of infinite condensation, a black hole of shadow forged into form.

The shadows wrapped around his entire frame, building from the neck down, forming into armor. What emerged was no crude construct but a suit tight, perfect, like second skin. His hands, his legs, his chest all encased in living shadow, an ever-concentrating exoskeleton of power.

The system fell silent for a moment. Then, almost in a whisper, it thought aloud: He’s really pissed this time...

[You know, Even if you use all that, your survival chance drops to 66.6 percent. A permanent 33.3 percent risk of death. This is madness. This is only a match. You could give up and still retain victory. Why do you insist on..] Its tone had shifted from scolding to weary warning.

Razeal finally spoke. His voice trembled not with fear, but with fury he could barely restrain.

"That bitch cut off my hair."

His grip tightened around the freshly-formed shadow saber. His eyes, dark and burning, lifted toward the colossal wooden figure floating above, cloaked in pink robes.

"You know how long it took me to grow it back from the very beginning, Villey? Years. Years." His words shook, venom lacing every syllable. "No one touches my hair."

He leaned forward, his body lowering into a stance. His blade tilted downward, the tip kissing the ground. The saber no longer looked forged but alive breathing, feeding, absorbing every trace of light. Even the vibrant hues of the coliseum dimmed, drained into its abyssal edge.

Razeal’s eyes flickered, black flames burning in his gaze. The crowd fell silent as his presence warped the air.

Far above, Sylva felt her body seize. From thousands of meters in the sky, she saw his posture his stillness before the strike.

Her skin prickled. Every hair on her body stood upright. Her heart pounded, her hands trembled uncontrollably. She had faced countless threats, yet something about this made her instincts scream.

What... what is this feeling? Her lips parted. She looked down at her trembling hands in disbelief. Adrenaline?

Without even realizing it, words escaped her mouth. "Absolute Elemental Shields."

With a wave of her will, massive walls of energy manifested in front of her, layer upon layer. Earth, wind, water, soil, wood every element she commanded flared into existence, forming barriers that stretched kilometers across. They stacked and overlapped until she was encased in a fortress of pure elemental force.

Instinct, pure and primal, had made her act.

Below, Razeal exhaled. His voice was steady, almost serene.

"Tectonic Slash. One hundred percent."

He raised his sword, grip tight, shoulders coiling with intent. Billions of condensed shadow particles microscopic fragments not fully bonded vibrated within the weapon. The very air trembled around it, threads of reality straining under its density.

He swung.

The motion was simple, a straight upward slice. But the ground beneath him reacted first. The reinforced marble floor groaned, cracked not into spiderweb fractures but into a single shallow crater, a perfect pit carved by raw pressure.

Then came the slash.

A black light erupted, splitting upward. His sword dissolved into liquid shadow as it released, its form unraveling so the kinetic force suffered no resistance, no recoil. Every ounce of energy, every shred of destructive potential of whole tectonic, surged into the arc.

It wasn’t just a blade anymore it was tectonic force unleashed.

The black light shot into the sky, cutting upward like a blade that sought to cleave the heavens themselves. It didn’t move fast. It didn’t need to. Wherever it passed, the world itself dimmed. Colors bled away, replaced by black.

The world had gone silent.

Click.

A single vertical sound echoed. As if the universe had been scored, a seam in reality itself.

And then

Fluckk.

Cutting past all the shields like they don’t even exist.

Liquid hit the wooden floor.

Sylva froze. Inside her wooden colossus, her pupils shrank. Slowly, with terror she couldn’t hide, she turned her head to side.

Her left arm was gone.

From the shoulder down, it had simply vanished. She hadn’t even seen it fall. The strike had cut so cleanly, so absolutely, that her mind hadn’t registered the loss until blood began to drip, hot and wet, splattering the wooden construct beneath her feet.

Pain crashed into her like a wave.

"Arghhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"

Her scream tore through the coliseum. Agony consumed her body. But worse than the pain was the suffocating aura that lingered around her neck death itself, grazing her, whispering that she had been seconds away from annihilation. If not for her moving just now.

She had survived only by a margin. A thin, merciless margin.

And then

"PRESUMPTIOUS!!"

A roar of fury cracked across the arena, shattering the moment.

Click.

Another light, blinding and sharp, shot down from above straight toward Razeal.

The world braced for the next collision.

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Ahhh, finally done 2.8k words wrapped up!

Sorry for the late Chapter, but I’ll be uploading the rest of the Chapters tonight.

Once again, thank you so much for the Power Stones and Golden Tickets. I really, really appreciate the support.

We’ve already passed 600 Golden Tickets and made it into the Top 30 on the main monthly ranking and honestly, you guys don’t know how huge that is for me.

All of this is only possible because of you. Thank you from the bottom of my heart! ❤️

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