Revenge: A Path of Destruction
Chapter 78: Alex vs The Earth Patriarch (4)

Chapter 78: Alex vs The Earth Patriarch (4)

The air rippled with remnants of Nyxara’s release. The scent of scorched stone and fear drifted upward on the wind, but Alex stood still—unmoved.

Below them, chaos reigned.

Buildings shattered. People screamed. Hundreds of warriors and civilians lay collapsed across the vast Earth Estate like scattered leaves after a storm. Some would wake. Many never would.

Alex said nothing. He simply watched.

There was no anger in his gaze. No satisfaction either. No trace of guilt or hesitation. Just the steady rise and fall of his breath as his eyes swept across the devastation.

It was quiet on the mountaintop—eerily so. Too quiet for what had just unfolded.

Then—

His eyes shifted south.

He felt it. That pressure surging forward from the distant horizon. A force—immense power, and closing in fast.

"The Earth Patrician," he murmured under his breath.

His aura was unmistakable. Heavy. Absolute. Rooted in the very marrow of the earth itself.

Alex’s gaze narrowed slightly.

"...Six minutes."

That’s all the time they had before everything changed.

He exhaled slowly, his voice low, nearly lost to the wind. "So... he’s fast. Faster than I expected."

He looked down again at the carnage Nyxara had caused at his behest. The dead. The unconscious. The broken estate. The terrified guards were barely holding together.

Any normal person would’ve felt something.

Dread. Remorse. Even a flicker of doubt.

But Alex’s face remained utterly blank—like a still lake reflecting nothing. No emotion flickered behind his eyes. No thought of retreat passed through his mind.

Just silence.

He turned slightly and glanced at Thutmose.

The prince was barking orders, rallying the elders and warriors, already organizing evacuation and defense strategies with sharp precision. He was capable—cool under pressure. Not unlike himself.

But it wasn’t Thutmose he was here for.

His voice echoed directly into Nyxara’s mind, calm and absolute.

’When he arrives...’

The tigress rumbled in acknowledgment, her ears twitching slightly.

’Cover the fortress in your lightning barrier. Reduce the damage as much as possible. And imprison the rest of his family—everyone except Thutmose and the Second Princess. The others... put them in a thunder cage.’

A beat passed.

Then came Nyxara’s amused response, laced with dark glee.

"It seems you do have a heart after all," Nyxra replied with amusement. However, her voice came in low after, "But do you think it’s alright for just you to battle against him? I know you would win, but with me here, we should be able to defeat him without any trouble."

Alex didn’t reply.

He simply kept staring to the south, where the sky itself began to bend beneath the force of the approaching titan.

----

Unlike the chaos and death that occurred in the Estate, the fortress was notably calmer. It appeared that some invisible barrier was able to negate, or at least reduce, the pressure from the people. However, even with this barrier, there was still some chaos present.

Even though Nyxara’s mana had been contained—muffled, almost—as if some invisible force blanketed the city, the people of Geb Fortress felt it.

The air trembled. The sky dimmed for a moment, and every living being instinctively looked toward the Earth Estate in fear.

Most didn’t understand what had happened.

They didn’t need to.

Chaos erupted.

Screams echoed across the streets. Shouts of orders from guards mixed with the wailing of frightened children. Crowds surged toward the emergency bunkers—bunkers built for catastrophe, never once used since their creation.

Now, they overflowed.

Elite warriors of the Earth Clan worked desperately to hold the lines, directing the population and creating barriers to prevent stampedes. But they were too few.

Less than a thousand warriors.

Over two hundred million civilians.

A drop of discipline in a sea of panic.

Yet amidst the maelstrom, Khepri arrived.

He floated above for a moment, his golden cloak fluttering in the storm of emotion around him. His eyes scanned the fortress—so many of his people, confused and afraid. But he couldn’t afford to stay.

He had already felt it.

The beast.

The pressure.

Even in his long, battle-hardened life, Khepri had only encountered such force once—against the Thunder Wolf. But this? This was worse. Stronger.

A step shook the platform beneath him.

Then another.

In a blur, the Earth Patrician vanished.

When he arrived at the Estate, his heart sank.

There was no barrier here. No invisible shield dulling the blow.

The destruction was absolute.

Debris littered every inch of the sacred estate. Bodies lay twisted and unconscious across shattered roads. The groaning of wounded warriors and soft beeps of medic bots filled the air. Men and women—clan guards, cooks, researchers, and civilians alike—struggled to carry their unconscious companions.

He clenched his fists.

This was not an attack.

This was a massacre.

His sharp eyes landed on Thutmose, standing amidst the wreckage like a commander born from war. Barking orders, shielding the wounded, directing evac efforts without pause. Around him stood several members of Khepri’s family.

But...

Where was Menkhara?

Where was Merit?

And what is Lucy doing here

His brow furrowed, but he forced the thought down. Not now.

And then he felt it.

A pressure—unrelenting, almost divine—pierced through the storm of mana and death like a spear.

He turned.

Atop the largest hill on the estate’s southern edge, she stood.

The beast.

White fur like snow under moonlight. Coiling black lightning danced through her mane, crackling with savage grace. Her eyes burned like twin suns of scorn as she looked directly at him, unafraid. Disdain radiated from her posture, as if even his presence was a nuisance.

But it wasn’t the tigress that made his body stiffen.

It was the boy—no, the young man—upon her back.

He stood as though the world bent to his presence.

Golden hair.

Piercing yellow eyes.

A calm, unreadable face—detached, as if nothing in this world could shake him.

Khepri’s breath hitched.

That power. That bloodline.

That presence.

There was only one clan that bore such traits. One clan whose warriors always looked down on the world with that same imperial gaze.

"Thunder..." he whispered.

His voice was low—nearly drowned by the wind—but laced with venom and disbelief.

He could never forget them.

The Thunder Clan.

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