Revenge: A Path of Destruction
Chapter 118: Judgement

Chapter 118: Judgement

Alex stood still.

The head of the Earth Clan’s patriarch—Khepri—hung loosely in his grasp, the lifeless expression still etched with disbelief, as if the man couldn’t comprehend the ending of his own story. Blood dripped silently from the severed neck, staining the wreckage below, falling onto burned soil that would never grow life again.

Alex didn’t move, not because he didn’t want to—but because he couldn’t.

His body, having carried him through the impossible, had finally reached its limit. The moment the fight ended, something inside him snapped shut. Muscles locked. Joints stiffened. His blood still ran, but barely. His heart still beat, but sluggishly. Even Nova had to go quiet, likely rerouting all internal energy toward emergency recovery.

The weight of what he’d done, what he had survived, still hadn’t hit him.

It would later.

But now... now, his eyes drifted.

And there, making her way through the cracked terrain, stepping with uncharacteristic care, was Nyxara.

She had done as he asked.

Behind her, a caged procession of traitors—the entirety of Khepri’s bloodline and inner circle—was silent. Most were frozen in horror, eyes locked on the grisly trophy held in Alex’s hand. Others were weeping. A few, catatonic.

But Nyxara wasn’t paying them any mind.

Her golden eyes—burning embers of emotion—were focused solely on him.

She’d taken on a more restrained form—smaller than her battle form, but larger than the house-cat size she sometimes used to rest on his shoulders. Just the right size to move swiftly without overwhelming his battered senses.

Her rage was barely contained.

He could see it in her posture. A quiver in her jaw. The way her tail lashed subtly with each step. The killing instinct still rolled off her in heated waves. If Khepri hadn’t already died by Alex’s hand, there was no doubt she would have taken care of it—slowly, painfully, and without mercy.

He couldn’t help it.

A breathless chuckle escaped his lips.

Immediately, pain exploded through his ribs and chest. Even a laugh was a punishment now. He winced, biting back another sound.

But Nyxara had noticed.

Her ears perked.

And then—without hesitation—she crossed the last few steps.

Her large head gently pressed into his chest.

She didn’t say anything at first. Just rubbed against him like a mother worried for her wounded cub, careful not to reopen any cuts or tear any muscle. Her tail curled softly behind him.

He let her.

His fingers, still sticky with blood, sank into her fur.

Then her voice entered his mind—low, frustrated, trembling.

"I told you to be careful. And to call for help. But look at you..."

She gave him a gentle shove with her head, forcing him back half a step. His body nearly gave out just from that small push.

"You almost got yourself killed—several times—in that battle."

Alex gritted his teeth and let out another pained breath.

"...Alright, alright. I’m sorry, Nyxara," he said, his voice hoarse. "But I wanted to fight a Legend-rank without your help. One my lightning authorities couldn’t suppress. If I can’t win against that... then..."

He trailed off, groaning as his body protested.

"...I still have a long way to go."

Nyxara didn’t reply immediately.

Instead, she simply rested her forehead against his.

When she finally spoke, it was quieter.

"Just promise me one thing."

He blinked. "Yeah?"

"You won’t do something that stupid again."

Her voice still trembled—anger and worry mixing in equal measure.

Alex’s ever-stoic face twitched... and for a rare moment, he smiled.

Just a small one. But it was real.

"I promise," he said. "And I won’t be fighting them alone anymore."

That made her ears perk up again.

Surprise flickered through her mind. She had known how fiercely he clung to the idea of doing this alone—this war, this vengeance, this personal retribution.

But now?

He had shifted.

And the shift meant only one thing.

The others-the ones responsible-had no chance at survival.

Not to Alex alone.

But to him and the tigress that now stood like a queen beside him.

They stayed that way for thirty minutes.

Nyxara didn’t move. Didn’t leave. She simply stayed pressed against him, acting like a barrier against the world, letting his body siphon even the smallest bit of warmth and stability from her presence.

Alex’s breathing gradually slowed.

His internal systems, aided by Nova’s passive restoration processes, began doing what they could. Patching, stitching, rewiring.

It wasn’t enough for a full recovery.

But it was enough to move again.

He opened his eyes and slowly, with effort, climbed onto Nyxara’s back.

Her expression changed as he settled onto her. The worry disappeared. What replaced it was pure disdain—the emotion reserved for garbage that needed to be cleaned up.

She turned toward the prisoners.

Toward the family of the man she’d wanted to kill herself.

Inside the cage, silence fell.

Some were still crying, some were paralyzed, some simply stared ahead, unable to accept what had just happened.

But those who still had clarity in their minds saw everything.

The care Nyxara had shown Alex.

The gentleness that she, the Black Lightning Tigress, was capable of—only for him.

And then they saw the shift.

The way she walked toward them now, with judgment in her stride.

Alex’s gaze swept across them all.

Nefureta, the First Princess, daughter of the First Wife. Her face was pale, her fingers trembling. Her lips whispered something—maybe a prayer, maybe an apology.

Menkara, the youngest son, was silent, his mind clearly trying to calculate any possible angle of escape or leverage, but the sweat on his brow told the truth: he had found none.

Lucy, the Third Wife—the woman whose clan had been first to volunteer for the Thunder Clan massacre—shook like a leaf. Tears ran down her face, smeared with the dirt of travel and blood of battle. She knew Alex wouldn’t forget. Wouldn’t forgive.

Nandi, the First Wife, was just as broken. Her face had gone blank, as if she had already accepted the end. Her eyes kept drifting back to Khepri’s severed head with disbelief... and perhaps a flicker of shame.

And the elders... who had once stood tall with authority and pride, now looked like withered leaves in a storm.

Each of them held a single, resounding question in their mind:

What will happen to us now?

Alex finally spoke.

His voice was soft, but it carried through the field like thunder.

"Now, it’s time for judgment."