Revenge: A Path of Destruction
Chapter 110: Final Clash (7)

Chapter 110: Final Clash (7)

The battlefield was no longer just ground and stone.

It was chaos—raw and unrelenting.

Alex twisted mid-air, barely avoiding a sweeping strike from the axe giant that split a ridge of stone behind him like paper. Earth exploded, chunks flying past as his boots skidded across the broken terrain, lightning flickering along his limbs like living veins.

Another attack—this time from the shield wielder—forced him to flip backward. The edge of a colossal earthen blade missed his face by a hair’s breadth, but the resulting shockwave still slammed him mid-air, sending his body spinning.

He crashed into a nearby boulder, the impact sending cracks racing along its surface as dust choked the air.

"Nova!" he said mentally, swiping blood from the edge of his mouth. "Update on my body’s condition."

A second passed. Then Nova’s voice crackled crisply in his mind, laced with urgency.

"Not good, sir. You’ve sustained multiple external bruises, three cracked ribs, and at least one internal injury. The strain of Limit Break is amplifying it ."

Alex grunted, deflecting another swing with a burst of lightning-enhanced speed. The giant’s sword clashed against his katana, and the impact sent a tremor up his arms, nearly dislocating his shoulder.

Nova’s voice continued. "And without the nano-suit’s support systems for its in sleep mode—"

Alex said nothing, landing hard and stumbling a step.

The suit had entered sleep mode when its energy reserves dropped during the extended defense phase. For two agonizing minutes, he’d been forced to go on the defensive, parrying, dodging, surviving—not because he wanted to, but because his focus had shifted entirely to protecting the innocents still evacuating from the battlefield’s edges.

Without the nano-suit, his body was bearing the full strength of Limit Break.

Every muscle in his body screamed in confirmation.

As he spun mid-air, barely ducking as the greatsword wielder’s attack whooshed past his head, slicing the top off a ruined pillar nearby. The sound was like thunder.

His body twisted unnaturally to regain balance.

That was when he said it:

"I’m going to use Transcend."

A spike of silence answered him.

Then, Nyxara’s voice, soft but firm, rang through his mind.

"Alex, don’t do it."

Her voice trembled with an edge of desperation.

"There’s no need for that. I am here—let me help you. You know, even at your peak, you only have three minutes with that Art before it drains you into unconsciousness. And now? Now you’re already brutalized!"

But Alex’s reply was quiet. Controlled.

"Don’t worry, Nyxara," he said between breaths, golden sparks licking off his arms. "I’ll only use it for a few seconds."

Then, gentler.

"But I’ll need you to catch me."

Nyxara said nothing.

And that silence... was all the permission he needed.

Lightning coiled tighter around his frame, the battlefield’s humidity charging into a storm. The sky darkened, clouds writhing as if the heavens sensed what was coming. Thunder rumbled, louder now. Closer.

Alex spun—upside down mid-air, his hair wild and trailing lightning, cape fluttering like a war banner in the wind. The axe giant lunged upward beneath him, its remaining arm swinging in a brutal overhead arc.

Alex’s katana deflected it, but just barely.

The shield wielder was already closing in, its earth-forged weapon raised.

But Alex’s eyes—calm, fierce, electric—locked onto the heart of the formation.

He whispered, "Thunder Control: Divine Art..."

Lightning surged.

"...Transcend."

The world screamed.

A jagged bolt of golden lightning, colossal and furious, tore through the sky and struck down like divine judgment, right where Alex hung in the air.

The impact was cataclysmic.

Both the axe and shield giants were caught in the inferno of celestial energy. The axe wielder’s weapon shattered into pebbles on contact, its torso disintegrating in a roar of light. The shield wielder fared barely better—its defensive arm atomized, and the entire right half of its stone body obliterated.

Shockwaves spread in concentric ripples. The ground fractured. Dust rose into a blinding dome. The air itself warped from the sheer pressure of condensed will and concept.

And in the center of it all, lightning blazed like a second sun.

----

As Khepri stood astride the shoulder of his surviving earth giant, the world trembled beneath him. The aftermath of that thunderbolt lay in shattered stone and smoldering dust—two of his four stone juggernauts reduced to fractured husks. He did not gape at the ruin, but the art behind the destruction that stole his breath.

As he looked at the lightning falling from the sky.

Khepri’s lips trembled at the implication of what it meant,

The Thunder clan, was more than just a formidable group of warriors; their strength was rooted in three vital attributes that set them apart from all others.

First, the raw power of their bodies. Born without the gift of elemental control, every warrior learned to internalize mana, forging body and bone into living weapons. Their flesh was steel-bound muscle, capable of feats no ordinary mortal could even dream of.

Second, Limit Break. An Art so powerful that when mastered they become unstoppable, the raw, lethal spark that crackles along the spine of every Thunder warrior. By shoving their bodies beyond natural thresholds, and channeling lightning into their body to elevate them beyond human limits. Even those who never mastered its full potential still struck with lethal thunder in their veins.

And last, the Divine Art, reserved for the main family. Fifty years passed, when the gods were bestowing their bloodline, they didn’t just drop, each from the higher god to the lesser bestowed something unique to their people. And the Thunder God was no exception—he bequeathed them one of the arts he uses. A technique that summons storm-forged lightning from heaven’s vault, imbuing the strike into one’s flesh. But only those who have ascended to Legend rank can stand beneath the falling bolt long enough to harness its power.

Khepri’s eyes narrowed as he observed the grandmaster’s boy, who was no more than a youth. Even with his keen perception, he couldn’t fathom what was happening inside the thunderbolt. However, he knew that if the boy emerged, the battle would escalate to a much higher level.

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