Revenge: A Path of Destruction
Chapter 186: Lucian vs Nathalie 5 (Flashback)

Chapter 186: Lucian vs Nathalie 5 (Flashback)

The silence did not last.

The explosion that followed cracked the world apart.

A thunderclap like the wrath of a vengeful god shattered the air, shaking the heavens and the scorched earth alike.

The force of the shockwave was cataclysmic—it tore through the ravaged forest with the ferocity of an angry tempest. Ancient trees, their roots sunken for centuries, were uprooted like weeds.

Massive chunks of ice, shattered remnants of Nathalie’s domain, were hurled into the sky like missiles. The air burned with the scent of ozone and vaporized frost.

Lightning and frost collided in an elemental storm that defied the laws of nature. Aether warped. Space cracked.

The surrounding mountain ranges groaned beneath the strain, distant peaks splitting as if the very land was protesting the battle.

But at the eye of the maelstrom, two figures stood—refusing to fall. Wounded, battered, and unrelenting.

Lucian’s golden light sputtered like a dying star. His once-flawless spear was now chipped, its gleaming edge dulled and warped.

Blood dripped from the blade—his own—mixing with the divine arcs of lightning still sparking from his skin. Cracks had formed along his arms and chest, like a vessel unable to contain the storm within.

Golden lightning leaked from those wounds like molten veins of power, searing into the ruined earth with every breath he took. He stood hunched but did not falter.

His spear trembled in his grasp, but his eyes—bright, furious suns—never wavered.

Opposite him, Nathalie was a portrait of savage nobility. Her once-pristine ice armor had been reduced to cracked plating, barely clinging to her bloodstained form.

Deep gashes marred her flank and shoulders, blood freezing instantly upon contact with her aura. One eye was swollen shut, leaking crimson, while the other gleamed with an inhuman, feral light.

Her tail, once graceful, now dragged behind her like a broken banner, soaked in blood and frost.

They were dying.

But they no longer cared.

A guttural growl built in Nathalie’s throat—a primal, bone-deep sound that carried the fury of a beast cornered yet unbowed. Her upper lip curled, revealing blood-slick fangs. She lunged, a blur of pale motion, more predator than ruler.

Lucian answered her bloodlust with a roar of his own—raw, defiant. Thunder howled through his broken body as he forced it to move, pushed it beyond the brink. Muscles torn, joints cracked, but his will burned hotter than ever.

Their collision was cataclysmic.

Claws met spear in a screech of ice on metal. The ground beneath them fractured, a spiderweb of chasms spiraling outward from the impact.

Nathalie slashed downward, claws like swords of winter, but Lucian twisted and stabbed upward, his spear a golden lance of divine fury. They moved like twin comets locked in an endless collision—parry, strike, evade, counter.

Lucian aimed for her throat, his spear singing through the air. She ducked under it, a blur of movement, and slashed at his exposed ribs. The impact knocked him sideways, but he recovered mid-motion, turning the force into momentum.

With a savage snarl, he delivered a sweeping kick that cracked her side and hurled her into a frozen boulder. The impact sent frost and stone exploding outward.

But Nathalie rebounded instantly. Ice coiled around her limbs like armor reborn, and she streaked toward him, claws outstretched.

Lucian flew through the chaos, his spear brimming with unstable arcs of lightning that lashed out in all directions. He knew it was close to exploding in his hands, but that didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except ending this.

Nathalie did not falter. Her beast zone howled in resonance with her rage. The temperature around her dropped so drastically the air screamed. It was no longer mere cold—it was conceptual. She sought to freeze time, freeze motion, freeze the very idea of action itself.

Lucian’s limbs slowed, heavy as if the world resisted him.

But still, he pushed forward.

With a scream of defiance, he shattered a newly risen glacier with his spear. The divine recoil burned through him, the lightning singeing his own nerves. But he endured. He had to.

She charged, spikes of glacial energy forming behind her like jagged wings of death. Lucian barely raised his spear as she crashed into him. Her claws tore down his left arm, splitting skin and muscle. His counterstrike slashed across her jaw, leaving behind a glowing trail of divine lightning that hissed and crackled.

Blood sprayed in the air—red and gold.

They staggered.

Neither fell.

They howled—rage, pain, pride, hatred. It didn’t matter.

Again.

Again.

Claw and fang met lightning and steel. Frost met fury. Every clash sent shockwaves that rippled through the sky. They circled one another like wounded gods, movements wild and unpredictable. They stumbled. Fell. Rose again.

Lucian had long forgotten the reason for his journey. The faces of his men no longer existed in his memory. There was no strategy. No mission.

Only the tigress.

She must die.

Nathalie mirrored that madness. Reason had left her. She saw only prey. Her body was screaming in agony, her wounds severe—but her instincts roared louder. Kill. Tear. End.

Even their domains reflected this descent into pure instinct. Voltari’s Rule raged unchecked, lightning arcing madly, burning away logic. Glacial Majesty responded in kind—no longer a calm tide of frost but a raging glacier, ice erupting in jagged spikes and unnatural storms.

Lucian’s lightning flickered.

Nathalie’s body trembled.

He coughed blood.

She winced, a deep wound spilling crimson across her flank.

But they kept moving.

Another clash.

Her claws slashed through his side, skin and muscle torn.

His spear drove through her midsection, burning a hole in her flesh.

They didn’t scream.

They didn’t slow.

He ripped the spear free, unleashing a chain reaction of lightning blasts that seared her side. She sank her fangs into his shoulder, freezing the very muscle as her breath turned blood to ice.

He roared and slammed his head into hers—a shockwave of golden energy exploding from the impact.

They were no longer recognizable as man and beast.

Lucian was a storm incarnate, bleeding power.

Nathalie was winter’s wrath given form, her body shrouded in death-frost and violence.

All around them, the world cowered. No birds sang. No wind moved. The remaining trees leaned away, bent by the sheer force of their presence. Even distant magical beasts watched in silence, unwilling to approach this battlefield of gods.

Lucian’s body sagged. His steps were slower now.

Nathalie’s breaths came shallow. Her limbs shook.

They stood again—ten meters between them.

Bleeding.

Cracked.

Mad.

Lucian raised his ruined spear, lightning crawling across its fractured length.

Nathalie crouched, claws flexed, mouth curled into a snarl.

There was no thought. No planning. No words.

Only hatred.

Only fury.

Only the end.

One last, soul-shattering scream erupted from both their throats—

—and they charged.