Revenge: A Path of Destruction
Chapter 77: Alex vs The Earth Patriarch (3)

Chapter 77: Alex vs The Earth Patriarch (3)

It was as if reality cracked.

The surge of mana that burst from Nyxara wasn’t merely power—it was cataclysmic authority. It didn’t ripple through the Earth Estate—it devoured it.

The sky over the estate turned black and gold, shimmering like liquid metal torn by lightning. A crushing pressure fell upon the land like a mountain had dropped from the heavens, invisible but inescapable. Mana-sensors overloaded and shorted out instantly; protective wards across the estate shattered like brittle glass under a divine hammer.

People screamed—and then went silent.

Across training fields, inner gardens, homes, and guard barracks, bodies fell. Not from an attack, but from the sheer weight of her mana. More than half the Earth Estate’s population dropped unconscious in a single breathless moment. Some fell mid-step, others mid-sentence. Children collapsed in the arms of their panicked parents. Warriors who hadn’t even faced a blow sank to their knees, gasping for breath that no longer came—then crumpled.

And some... didn’t get back up at all.

Mundane workers—gardeners, cooks, attendants, builders—those who had never advanced beyond Intermediate Rank, whose lives revolved around simple labor within the mighty Earth Clan... died where they stood. Their hearts ruptured. Blood vessels burst. Their spirits were crushed by a pressure their bodies were never meant to endure.

The estate turned into still-life paintings of panic and collapse. Some higher-ranked warriors managed to stay upright, running from one body to another, desperately trying to rouse them, to stabilize them, to understand what just happened—but there was no time.

Because the sky was still burning.

Inside the Collapsed Hall

Stone dust floated in the air like ash after a volcanic eruption. Debris lay scattered across the shattered floor. The grand hall that once held pillars of marble and authority was now a broken husk. Chunks of the ceiling lay smashed over fallen furniture and cracked tile. Light filtered in through gaping holes in the walls, illuminating the ruined majesty.

A coughing fit echoed—then another.

Movement stirred beneath the debris.

A large slab moved, then slid aside, revealing Thutmose, his body surrounded by a faint, protective glow of earthen mana. He pushed himself up to his feet, dust caked in his hair and blood trickling down his lip. But he was whole. Alive.

Not far from him, one by one, the others emerged. The second Princess rolled her shoulders with a grunt but otherwise appeared unharmed. Lady Lucy—her expression cold and sharp—dusted off her robe, eyes flicking around for threats. Even the First Princess, Neferura, rose from a defensive crouch, her Shwt still humming with residual energy from the dome it had raised mid-collapse.

Only Menkara groaned from a shallow crater, his left arm twisted unnaturally, his lip split and bleeding.

"Menkara!" Thutmose called, moving toward him.

"I’m... fine," the youngest prince muttered, though his face was pale and his breath shallow. His Shwt hovered beside him, having taken the brunt of the falling debris. She was wounded, but had done her job.

Thutmose knelt beside him just long enough to confirm he wasn’t dying, then stood, eyes scanning the area, counting.

Everyone was alive.

He let out a breath—then turned toward the open view beyond the crumbled wall.

And his blood ran cold.

The Earth Estate was in chaos. Fires had started from overloaded mana-conduits. He could see people lying in the open, unmoving. He could hear the desperate shouts of those still conscious, the flicker of barrier spells being hastily thrown up, the hum of emergency medics teleporting short distances with injured in tow. It was bedlam.

But more than that... more than the madness... was the silence from the majority.

They weren’t screaming.

They weren’t moving.

They were just... still.

His mind raced. If more than half the estate’s population fainted... then what about—

Thutmose’s eyes widened, stomach lurching with realization.

Geb Fortress.

That was where the other portion of the population lived—families, civilians, workers. The backbone of the Earth Clan. A city within a fortress... but with more than sixty percent of its residents being non-combatants. Ordinary people. People who hadn’t even reached Advanced rank.

People who couldn’t defend themselves from what just hit them.

His hand trembled as it curled into a fist, and for the first time in years, Thutmose felt dread.

Thutmose exhaled sharply, steadying the whirlwind in his chest. There was no more time to think. He had to act.

"The Patriarch must’ve felt that spike..." he muttered, eyes flicking once more to the unnatural beast still looming in the estate like an ancient omen. "He’ll be here soon."

He turned sharply to the surviving Grandmasters and elders who had begun gathering around, their expressions torn between shock and disbelief.

"Now! Everyone who can still move, listen up!" Thutmose’s voice cracked like a whip. His command cut through the haze, jolting even the veterans back into formation. "Split into two squads. First: all Grandmasters and elders, begin evacuation protocol immediately. Prioritize the unconscious and the injured. Get them away from the estate’s and into the underground bunkers. Second squad: elite warriors, I want you on the outer perimeter. The moment that battle starts—and it will—you’re to redirect any force that strays outside. Protect the people at all costs."

An elder frowned. "But—if we all pull out, we’ll leave the intruder unchecked—"

"Look at her!" Thutmose snapped, pointing toward Nyxara.

She loomed like a nightmare given form, her massive feline body rippling with unearthly mana. The air bent around her. Power exuded from her in waves, like a heartbeat in the fabric of existence itself. She no longer looked like a beast—she looked like calamity.

And on her back sat the man who had brought all of this upon them.

Not a single glance was cast toward the estate. They weren’t admiring their destruction. They weren’t even observing their surroundings.

They were both staring to the south.

Thutmose’s eyes followed theirs.

"...That’s where Father’s coordinates were last known," he murmured. His heartbeat quickened, and an ugly realization began to take root. "They’re not interested in us... They’re waiting for him."

He clenched his fists.

He could feel it too now—the building tension in the southern skies, like thunder being compressed into a blade.

A confrontation was inevitable.

And if it happened within the Geb Fortress...

Thutmose’s gaze swept over the vast stretch of land between them and the inner fortress. So many people were still unconscious. So many buildings that would crumble beneath the first shockwave. Even if they deployed the full mana shield, it wouldn’t hold. Not against the clash of two Legend-rank beings. It would fracture within minutes. The aftermath would kill thousands.

He turned his eyes back to the intruder—a man seated calmly atop the monstrous tigress. The calm wasn’t arrogance. It was confidence. Controlled, heavy, unshakable.

"...What rank is he?" Thutmose murmured, unease curling in his stomach.

He was too calm. Too composed. Not just anyone could ride a Legend-rank beast like it was second nature. Not anyone could stand at the center of this chaos, at the center of her storm, and not even flinch.

Thutmose didn’t have the answer. But the possibilities were grim.

All he could do now was pray.

"Father..." he whispered, staring toward the horizon. "Please... lead the battle somewhere else. Don’t let it happen here..."

He gritted his teeth as another tremor rocked the estate.

Because if the battle did begin here... the Geb Fortress—and everything it protected—would become a graveyard.