Revenge: A Path of Destruction
Chapter 111: Final Clash (8)

Chapter 111: Final Clash (8)

Alex remained suspended within the golden bolt, every fiber of his being caught in that divine torrent. Time seemed to stretch—no more than five seconds had passed, but each one felt like an eternity of shattering pain and rebirth. His muscles tore and reknit around crackling veins of lightning; bones splintered only to fuse anew under the storm’s relentless hammer. A Legend-rank feat, yet here he stood, a Grandmaster defying every expectation.

He clenched his teeth, silent against the agony. Each breath was a battle; each heartbeat a drum of defiance. He willed the lightning to bend to him, to obey his fractured flesh and focused mind. But the bolt’s fury was overwhelming: he had absorbed sixty-five percent of its raw power, and already his form trembled on the brink of collapse. If he did nothing, unconsciousness would claim him.

Then, with the last reserve of his shattered will, Alex unleashed his Domain.

Domain: Paragon of Lightning

A ripple of energy pulsed outward, carving a circular arena of crackling air around him. Within its bounds, every spark and surge of lightning fell under his command—divine or otherwise. Even as the celestial bolt continued to pour down, its chaotic wrath now answered his silent command.

Alex exhaled in a whisper of effort. He directed the storm’s fury away from his body: golden arcs recoiled, streaming from his chest toward the wounded earth giant still standing. The redirected lightning struck the titan’s rocky form with a cataclysmic crash. Stone splintered, joints exploded, and the giant collapsed into a mound of shattered boulders.

For a heartbeat, the battlefield stood hushed—then the thunderclap rolled on, mournful and distant.

---

Thought for a couple of seconds

Alex stood before the dissipating storm like a thunder god reincarnate. The dust and shattered stone spun around him in muted, slow motion, each fragment a reminder of the fury he had just survived. He landed softly on the floor within a crater that glowed faintly from the residual thunder energy, each inhale stabbing through cracked ribs and torn muscles.

For a moment, he simply stood there, head bowed, listening to his ragged breath and the distant groans of collapsing earth. Then a translucent holo‐display flickered into view before his eyes, Nova’s interface ghosting into existence:

Strength: 1005

Speed: 1003

Stamina: 0075/1006

Mana: 0026/1112

He took in the figures with a surgeon’s detachment—numbers that quantified both his triumph and his degradation. His Strength and Speed soared beyond legend, yet his Stamina and Mana bled away like sand through clenched fingers. He dismissed the display with a curt flick of his gaze, letting it dissolve back into nothingness.

A sharper urgency cut through his fog of pain:

Nova (voice tight) "You have seconds, not minutes. Finish this fight before your body breaks entirely."

He did not answer. Words would only slow him down. Instead, he pressed his palms against his chest, feeling the beating of his heart. Around him lay the devastation of his own making—two stone giants reduced to rubble, the third’s shattered remains smoldering just beyond the crater’s rim.

He breathed in, held until the tremor in his lungs steadied, then exhaled in a whisper of determination. His legs slid outward into a low, balanced stance, feet braced against fractured ground. With the nano‐suit shut down during the Limit Break surge, and its sheath lying silent at his side, the katana’s familiar weight was a comfort against his battered form.

Moonlight sifted through the swirling dust, illuminating the lone earth giant still standing in the distance. Its multifaceted eyes of carved gemstone glowed with a dim, threatening light—proof that one foe remained. Alex’s gaze locked onto it, cold and unwavering.

He flexed his fingers. Pain flared like a white-hot lance through every broken bone, but he channeled it into focus. He might not hold out much longer, yet one final strike—precise and merciless—would decide this battle.

He lifted his chin, lips parting in a single, controlled breath. Then, in a voice that carried across the silent battlefield, he spoke his invocation:

"Thunder Control, Katana Form: Godspeed slash."

The words landed like a gauntlet thrown. His form blurred—silver and gold arcs flickered along his limbs as he became a living conduit for the storm’s dying embers. Dust whipped around him, and the air crackled with residual electricity that answered his call.

----

Khepri balanced atop his remaining earth giant’s shoulder, eyes narrowed against the roar of wind and dust. The storm’s heart still raged where the boy hovered, though no figure pierced the golden torrent. His mortal eyes saw only flashes, but his mana sense—read the tempest’s flow.

At first, he perceived the raw energy of the divine strike, an unstoppable cascade from the heavens. He sensed Alex will locked in struggle: the incoming thunder ripping through flesh and bone, the desperate fight to reintegrate each shattered fiber. Khepri had expected a simple display of unshakable power—an eruption that would leave nothing but ash.

Then came the shift. A thin ripple in the storm’s core, as if the lightning itself hesitated. Khepri’s mana sense sharpened: something reached out and guided those crackling currents. A circle of latent power flared into existence—an unseen boundary that swallowed the bolt’s fury and bent its trajectory like molten metal guided by a smith’s hammer.

He watched, breath caught, as the redirected lightning arced toward the wounded giant that had staggered to its feet. The battered colossus flailed, veins of rock straining to regenerate its shattered form. Without warning, the thunderbolt struck—pure, devastating energy that cleaved through stone limb and joint. The earth giant crumbled in a thunderous collapse, debris cascading into the abyss below.

Khepri’s heart thundered in his chest. He turned his gaze even as the storm’s edge began to calm. There, descending through swirling motes of dust and residual sparks—came Alex. No longer hidden in the tempest’s veil, Alex emerged as the storm itself made flesh.

His body was swathed in living lightning, not merely draped in it like armor, but fused to every fiber of his being. Sparks danced perpetually from his hair and fingertips; his cloak billowed with crackling energy. Limit Break’s electric sheen had been powerful—but this was transcendence: the divine storm reborn in a single host.

Khepri’s hand trembled on the hilt of his weapon. He felt a cold dread coil through his veins. Facing Alex was one thing. Facing the very essence of thunder, shaped and sentient, was another entirely. And in that charged silence, he understood fear for the first time in a long time.