CHAPTER 60: [60] ZANTEI

"Zantei: Keraunos Cathedral"

The words left Thalia’s lips, and reality fractured.

Purple-white lightning erupted from her body, shooting upward and outward in blinding arcs. The cathedral walls dissolved as her domain established itself, replaced by a vast storm-dark arena that stretched fifty meters in every direction. The floor transformed into crystallized lightning—smooth, translucent plates that crackled with contained energy beneath her feet.

Towering storm pillars materialized around the perimeter, each one a massive column of churning thundercloud that reached toward a ceiling of roiling darkness. Lightning constantly arced between these pillars, creating a cage of electric energy that defined the boundaries of her domain.

The air itself became charged, each breath tasting of ozone and power. Tiny sparks danced across every surface, and the ambient light shifted to an otherworldly purple-white glow that emanated from nowhere and everywhere at once.

The crystal serpent froze, its reflective surface now showing only Thalia’s storm-filled domain rather than her face. The remaining Mirror Man by the core took a step back, its featureless head turning as if searching for an escape.

Thalia stood at the center of the storm, her periwinkle hair floating upward as if gravity had partially released its hold. Purple electricity coursed across her body in intricate patterns that resembled both circuit boards and ancient geometric designs. Her eyes glowed with the same energy, turning from their usual purple to a brilliant white.

"This is my domain," she said, her voice carrying a subtle echo as if the storm itself spoke with her. "In here, all lightning answers to me alone."

The serpent recovered from its momentary paralysis and lunged toward her, its crystalline body reflecting fragments of lightning as it moved. Before it could reach her, a bolt of lightning struck it from above—not by chance, but by Thalia’s will.

The lightning didn’t just hit the serpent; it struck with precision, finding the exact point where the creature’s consolidated form was most vulnerable. The bolt shattered its midsection, sending crystal fragments flying in all directions.

Thalia didn’t move. She didn’t need to.

Every fragment that separated from the main body was immediately struck by its own targeted lightning bolt. The serpent tried to reform, but each attempt was met with another precise strike. Lightning followed every piece, no matter how small, no matter how fast it moved.

"In Keraunos Cathedral, lightning finds its mark," Thalia said, raising one hand. "Always."

The Mirror Man by the core finally moved, rushing toward her with arms transformed into blades. Three steps into its charge, lightning struck it from six different directions simultaneously. The creature exploded into crystal dust, which scattered across the floor of the domain.

When the dust tried to rise, lightning pinned each particle in place, creating a beautiful, terrible constellation of trapped crystal fragments that hovered inches above the floor.

The serpent’s head, the last large piece remaining intact, reared back and opened its mouth. A high-pitched keening sound emerged—whether a cry of pain or an attempt to communicate, Thalia didn’t care.

She closed her fist.

Lightning converged from every direction, striking the serpent’s head from above, below, and all sides. The crystalline structure couldn’t withstand the concentrated assault. It shattered into thousands of pieces, each one immediately struck by its own personal lightning bolt until nothing remained but dust.

Thalia turned her attention to the gate core—the pulsating crystal suspended above purple energy. Within her domain, she could see what others couldn’t: the patterns of energy flowing through the core, the weaknesses in its structure, the exact points where a precise application of force would cause maximum disruption.

She extended her hand toward it, palm up. Lightning gathered above her palm, condensing into a sphere of pure electrical energy that rotated faster and faster until it resembled a miniature sun.

The energy shot forward, not as a bolt but as a concentrated beam that struck the gate core.

The core absorbed the first wave of energy, its purple glow intensifying. Then cracks appeared across its surface, thin lines of white light that spread like a web. The cracks deepened, widened, until the entire structure was more fracture than solid.

With a sound like breaking glass amplified a thousandfold, the core shattered.

The explosion should have filled the cathedral with deadly crystal shrapnel, but within Thalia’s domain, she controlled even this. The fragments froze in mid-air, suspended by electrical fields that held each piece in perfect stasis.

Thalia walked forward, her feet barely touching the crystallized lightning floor. She reached out and plucked a single fragment from the suspended cloud—the keystone that contained the gate’s signature.

"Gate cleared," she said, closing her fingers around the fragment.

Lightning coursed through her hand, reducing the crystal to dust that filtered between her fingers.

The moment the dust touched the floor, her domain began to contract. The storm pillars crumbled inward, the ceiling of dark clouds descended, and the crystallized lightning floor began to crack. Maintaining a Zantei was like holding back a tsunami with bare hands—possible for only so long before the natural order reasserted itself.

Thalia felt the strain immediately. Her muscles tightened as if she’d been running for hours. Blood trickled from her nose, leaving a thin crimson trail down to her upper lip. The circuit-like patterns of electricity across her skin began to flicker and fade.

As her domain collapsed around her, reality rushed back in—the cathedral walls reappeared, the normal laws of physics reasserted themselves, and the suspended crystal fragments fell to the ground with a sound like rain on a tin roof.

Thalia dropped to one knee, her spear serving as a makeshift crutch. Her breathing came in short, controlled gasps as she fought to maintain her composure. Her periwinkle hair fell limply around her face, no longer buoyed by electrical currents.

"Thalia!" Ryan’s voice echoed through the cathedral as her team rushed back in.

She held up a hand, stopping them several meters away. "Stay back. Residual discharge."

Small arcs of electricity still jumped between her fingers, dancing across her skin in diminishing patterns. The aftereffects of a Zantei were almost as dangerous as the technique itself—uncontrolled energy seeking any available outlet.

Cassandra ignored the warning, approaching cautiously. "That was... I’ve never seen anything like that."

"You weren’t supposed to," Thalia said, her voice hoarse. "That’s why I told you to leave."

Eliot surveyed the cathedral, now littered with crystal fragments. The gate core was gone, leaving only empty space where it had hung. "You destroyed it completely. The simulation should have ended when the core shattered."

"It’s not a simulation error," Ryan said, his camera still recording. "The system is designed to capture the aftermath too. Data collection."

Vince picked up a crystal fragment, turning it over in his hand. "What was that technique? I’ve read about your Essentia, but that was something else entirely."

Thalia wiped the blood from her nose with the back of her hand. "Something I shouldn’t have used in a training exercise."

She pushed herself to her feet, ignoring the tremor in her legs. The expenditure had been excessive—using a Zantei for a Tier-2 simulation was like using a tactical missile to kill a spider.

She straightened her posture, refusing to show any further weakness. The aftermath of a Zantei would leave her Essentia unstable for at least twelve hours. Any attempt to use her abilities during that time would result in painful feedback or complete failure. It was the price of wielding such power—temporary vulnerability following overwhelming strength.

"Let’s go," she said, turning toward the exit. "We have an audience waiting."