Revenge: A Path of Destruction
Chapter 75: Alex vs The Earth Patriarch (1)

Chapter 75: Alex vs The Earth Patriarch (1)

Alex stepped away from the wall.

The torchlight flickered across his frame as he moved, slow and deliberate. The soft echo of his footsteps was swallowed by the sheer tension choking the room. No one said a word. No one dared. The moment he pushed off the wall, the air seemed to contract, like it understood something the people hadn’t yet fully processed.

They were all frozen.

Not by magic. Not by force.

By fear.

Not the dramatic kind—the cold, quiet kind that settled behind the ribs and made even the strongest men rethink their choices.

Half-lidded with calm, his eyesscanned the chamber like he was simply walking into a room he’d been in a thousand times. In a way, he had. Not this one specifically, but rooms like this were full of people who thought they were in control until the truth entered.

And right now, he was the truth.

Even if they didn’t know his name.

Even if they weren’t ready for what he represented.

Nyxara remained silent on his shoulders, her tail flicking once with mild disinterest. But Alex felt her awareness, sharp and attuned—like a blade resting just shy of unsheathing.

He reached one of the grand seats positioned in a semicircle at the head of the chamber. The kind of seat people killed over. The kind of seat that hadn’t been offered to him.

Didn’t matter.

He easily pulled it out, turned it, and sat, claiming space like it had always been his.

No one stopped him.

They couldn’t have, even if they wanted to.

They knew it.

And worse—he knew they knew it.

He let the silence stretch for a moment longer. Let them stew in it. Let them question if anyone would be foolish enough to break it.

Then, calmly, he spoke.

His voice didn’t rise.

It didn’t need to.

"Now that everyone’s here..."

His gaze swept the room one last time, golden eyes glinting with unreadable depth.

"Why don’t we start?"

After delivering his cold declaration, Alex let the silence stretch—not to fill it, but to choke them.

His golden eyes slowly scanned the room, pausing just long enough on each face for them to feel it—seen, judged, and found wanting.

"I’m sure you’re all wondering who I am," he said, voice still calm. "Some of you already have suspicions... so let’s not waste time."

He leaned forward slightly, letting the light catch his face.

"The name is Alex Tyr."

Silence.

Dead, stifling, absolute silence.

A beat passed—then reality hit like a thunderclap.

Lady Nandi’s eyes widened for the first time since Alex’s arrival, her perfectly sculpted control faltering ever so slightly.

Thutmose’s pupils narrowed, his jaw tightening like a blade ready to snap.

Across the room, even the Elders looked like they’d seen a ghost—because, in a way, they had.

But the most shocked out of everyone was Lucy, whose face was full of dread

Alex let the weight of his words hang, before speaking again—voice still devoid of fury, devoid of vengeance... almost too devoid.

"Yes. That Tyr. The same one your clan wiped out."

A collective breath caught in the throats of those present.

They all understood what that meant.

The implication wasn’t subtle. It was a statement. A sentence. A reckoning.

"The only survivor... of your massacre,"

"And I’m here to return the favor."

No one spoke.

No one could.

Not because they lacked words, but because the calm on his face was more terrifying than any rage they could have expected.

There was no shouting. No threats.

Just... certainty.

The certainty of a storm that no one saw coming—until it was too late to run.

Lady Lucy looked at Alex with something unreadable flickering in her gaze... Was it regret? Pride? A hint of warning?

Nandi’s daughter swallowed hard.

One elder’s hands began to tremble beneath the table.

Even Thutmose, the most composed among them, shifted in his seat.

Because in that moment, they all understood something crystal clear:

He wasn’t bluffing.

He wasn’t unstable.

He wasn’t asking for anything.

He was here to deliver a promise.

And none of them knew how to stop him.

....

Thutmose couldn’t breathe—not properly.

Not from fear. No... fear was familiar. This was worse.

This was the slow, creeping dread of realization, thick as mud and suffocating.

So he was the one...

The thought echoed in Thutmose’s mind, bouncing like a blade against the walls of his skull.

He caused it all.

The beast tide. The chaos. The breaches.

Thousands of lives lost. Fortresses fallen. Entire regions are overrun.

All because of... him?

His eyes slowly locked onto Alex—no, Tyr. And the beast that lay draped over his shoulders like an arrogant crown. The same aura that had shaken the continent weeks ago now curled around her like smoke, dormant but no less deadly.

Thutmose stood up slowly, his gaze sharpened like obsidian.

"You..." he began, voice low, almost thoughtful. "You were the one who caused the beast tide... weren’t you?"

No answer.

Alex didn’t nod.

Didn’t blink.

Didn’t even smirk.

That silence said everything.

And it was all Thutmose needed.

His mana surged in an instant—a storm exploding from still waters.

The floor beneath him cracked as golden earth energy radiated outward in seismic waves, shaking the chamber.

Every head whipped toward him—eyes wide, breaths caught.

Is he insane?

He’s going to fight him? Here? Now?

The weight of Thutmose’s mana pressed against the walls like they were made of glass, and yet... Alex didn’t move.

Not even a ripple of interest crossed his face.

Thutmose scanned each face around the hall. Their expressions twisted from confusion to panic to pale-faced horror as his voice echoed across the stone chamber:

"None of you have noticed it yet, have you?"

He stepped forward.

"No one is coming."

Another silence.

A few brows furrowed. A couple of hands subtly touched the rings and amulets that served as signal artifacts.

Thutmose’s voice hardened.

"The signals we’ve all been secretly sending since the moment this bastard arrived? All cut off."

Eyes widened. Breaths hitched. One elder dropped their communication ring in stunned disbelief.

"And the Patrician..." Thutmose said, turning slightly to face the grand doors that had remained untouched. "There’s no way he wouldn’t have felt the aura from that tiger. A Legend-rank beast’s mana erupted inside our seat of power, even with the distance, he would have felt the spike. No guards. No elites. No word."

He looked back at Alex, then at the beast, Nyxara, who was still casually blinking, as if none of this mattered.

"It’s been five minutes," Thutmose said grimly. "And still... nothing."

That’s when the panic set in.

Every single person in the hall reached out again—mentally, spiritually, desperately—to their communication artifacts all of them trying different channels and different means.

All met with the same thing.

Dead silence.

The air grew heavier. Not with mana—but with something worse.

Doubt.

Thutmose’s final words came like the strike of a gavel:

"The only thing that can cut off those signals... block that kind of interference... is a Grandmaster-rank artifact."

More sweat rolled down brows.

Throats tightened.

Paranoia blossomed like fire in dry grass.

And through it all, Alex said nothing.

His calm expression, his unshifting posture, his silence...

It was the scariest thing in the room.

....

During Thutmose outrage

Everyone else flinched.

But Alex... didn’t move.

His expression never shifted. His breathing remained steady.

Not even a twitch.

But inside his mind?

"He’s good," came Nyxara’s voice, threading effortlessly into his thoughts like silk soaked in steel.

"He pieced it together with almost nothing. With my presence. That kind of deduction? That kind of intuition? Are you sure it’s wise to let someone like that live?"

Alex didn’t answer immediately. His golden eyes swept across the panic-stricken faces before him, and then to Thutmos, —standing tall, trembling with fury and defiance.

He’s dangerous, Alex admitted to himself. But he’s not a threat.

"Listen to you," Alex replied dryly in his mind. " weren’t you, lecturing me on mercy?"

"This is different," Nyxara insisted. "He didn’t panic. Didn’t stutter. He connected dots to easily, even though we weren’t hiding it. He could be a problem."

Could, Alex emphasized.

"He’s only alive because he didn’t take part in the destruction of my clan," he continued, his mental voice as calm as the look on his face.

Not yet, he added silently.

"So calm down," he told her. "If he ever decides to stand in the way... I’ll just put him down. Like all the others."

There was a beat of silence.

Then Nyxara responded, tone lighter but no less deadly.

"If you say so, Alex..."

A pause.

Then Alex blinked once, slowly.

"Now, Nyxara..."

"Let’s invite the big fish to the show."

The tigress leapt from his shoulders in a single fluid motion—grace and violence fused into one.

She landed at the center of the hall with a soft thud that echoed like a thunderclap.

And then—

Mana exploded.

It crashed into the chamber like a meteor of cold, regal pressure—pure, ancient, and suffocating.

Chairs rattled.

Stone groaned.

People in the estate fell to their knees involuntarily.

The air froze under her will. The the kind of oppressive energy that made every cell in a warrior’s body scream "submit."

Legend-rank mana.

Not disguised. Not hidden. Unleashed without restraint.

And for the first time since Alex stepped into the room...

He smiled.

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