CHAPTER 351: THEN WE STARTED BREAKING

I tore my gaze away from the sky where the Grandmasters clashed and looked down at the battlefield before me.

The ground below was teeming with Holt Masters. Thousands of them. Their formations stretched wide, filling the space between shattered buildings, cracked platforms, and smoldering debris. They were armored, armed, and ready for blood. And all of them were staring right at us.

I took a step forward, raising my foot to leap into the fray and end this quickly.

But two hands grabbed me, one from each side.

I glanced left.

Steve’s hand.

Right.

North’s.

Both of them held me back.

Steve grinned. "Not this time, man. You’re not taking all the fun."

North’s face was calm, but her grip was firm. "We want to fight too. Don’t worry, we won’t slow you down."

I looked at the two of them, then at the eager faces of the Master-ranked soldiers standing behind us. They were all ready. Wounded. Exhausted. But hungry for payback.

A low chuckle escaped my throat. I nodded once.

"Fine."

I stepped forward, lifted my arm, and pointed straight ahead. Essence flowed through me, amplifying my voice until it echoed across the battlefield like a thunderclap.

"ATTACK!"

A roar rose behind me.

Dozens of Masters surged forward, sprinting toward the waiting army of the Holts.

Their numbers were fewer but not a single one of them hesitated. Their spirits burned with fury and freedom, their bodies bolstered by the will to fight. I knew why. It wasn’t because they thought they were stronger.

It was because they believed I would carry them through it.

That trust sat heavy on my shoulders but I welcomed the weight.

The Holt forces laughed when they saw us charging.

"Look at them! The Empire Slaves."

"Hey, go and kiss the ass of your Emperor."

"Come I will show you death."

Taunts echoed across the field, crude and dismissive. But they didn’t understand the kind of men and women they were facing.

They would.

Seven Holt Masters stood ahead of the rest. Each one radiated power, their bodies pulsing with intense power. I focused on them. My senses locked onto their levels.

All 199.

The same as me.

I narrowed my eyes.

One of them—tall, lean, sharp-eyed—stepped slightly ahead of the rest. He pointed at me and sneered.

"Come, little boy. I’ve been waiting for this."

I didn’t answer.

I simply lifted one finger.

And fired.

A piercing beam of light exploded from my fingertip, fast as thought. It streaked across the battlefield in a blink, screaming through the air.

The man barely managed to raise his arm to block and raise an Essence barrier. His barrier cracked under the blast and he was sent flying backward, crashing through his own soldiers and skidding across the ground like a broken arrow.

Gasps rippled through the Holt ranks.

And the taunts stopped and silence spread over the battlefield.

Just silence.

And then, chaos.

The two charging groups collided.

Steel clashed. Skills exploded. Waves of Essence erupted across the battlefield.

North flew ahead, her twin blades glowing green as she carved through the frontline with precise arcs, slicing down two enemies in seconds. Wind spiraled around her, cutting sharp and fast. She danced through the chaos like a blade in a storm.

Steve roared beside her, his body a blur of motion. Lightning crackled across his frame as he dashed forward, his swords flashing forward. He didn’t hesitate, his blades sliced clean through armor and flesh, each strike precise and fatal.

He moved like a storm, appearing in one spot, vanishing the next, then reappearing behind enemies with a clean arc of steel. They barely saw him coming before they collapsed.

The battlefield became a mess of movement and power. Soldiers collided, techniques exploded, and the world filled with shouts, grunts, and roars.

And me?

I still hadn’t moved.

I stood there, calmly watching the seven elite Holt Masters regroup ahead. The one I’d blasted was getting to his feet, his face twisted in anger and disbelief.

Thousands of Holt Masters surged like a tide, flooding the crumbling base with blades, fire, ice, and shadow. Their sheer numbers dwarfed ours. They formed ranks, layers of organized chaos, shouting commands and unleashing skills in waves.

Our side, barely a few hundred strong, was already deep in the fight. But what we lacked in numbers, we made up for in fury.

The freed Masters fought like demons unleashed. Prisoners turned warriors. Their rage made every strike sharper, their pain made every step stronger.

The air buzzed with hostile Essence.

Blades clashed. Explosions bloomed. Shields of ice formed only to shatter under hammering flames. Arrows of condensed light pierced armors and people alike. Wind howled, fire crackled, lightning split the ground.

And through it all... I walked.

Calm. Focused.

The ground quaked beneath my boots, already splintered and scorched.

A burning spear flew from the left, I tilted my head, letting it pass an inch from my face. A slash of water sliced through the air from the right, I raised a finger, flicked, and dispersed it like mist.

Above me, the battle between Grandmasters thundered like gods fighting in the heavens. Each collision echoed like a quake. Then suddenly—

Whooosh!

A massive blade made of compressed air, easily ninety meters long, descended from the sky like a divine punishment. Its presence tore through the sky with a deafening howl, and the pressure alone forced some people to their knees.

Some of the nearby Masters noticed it mid-battle. Their eyes widened in shock, some even pausing as they looked up, frozen in sudden fear. The sheer size of it... the power behind it, it could’ve split the battlefield in even more pieces.

I simply raised one hand toward the falling blade.

"[Sovereign Reversal]."

Violet Essence flared around me.

Dozens of vortex-like portals burst into existence along the blade’s path—tight, rotating spirals of violet energy. They sucked in the compressed air, tearing apart the blade’s structure mid-fall, draining its force, unraveling it into nothing and transferring energy directly to my core.

The sky crackled.

The rest of the blade, thinned and unstable, fell with a scream of rushing wind.

I clenched my raised hand into a fist.

The remaining energy folded inward with a crunch, the edges imploding as if crushed by an invisible grip.

The battlefield held its breath.

My eyes swept the battlefield ahead.

Steve was a blur of motion—blade to throat, slash to chest. He ducked under a flying axe, then countered with a rising slash that split a Holt Master’s head like a vegetable.

North spun like a hurricane, blades whirling in each hand. She darted through five enemies, slicing tendons and disarming them mid-attack. Wind gathered around her, forming a thin barrier that deflected incoming arrows.

A pair of Holt Masters tried to flank me. One lunged with a molten blade. The other summoned vines like living whips.

I stopped walking.

A soft pulse of violet rippled from my body.

Both men froze mid-motion.

I stepped between them, grabbed each by the collar, and slammed their heads together with a loud bang. They dropped like puppets without string.

I resumed walking again, slow and steady.