Revenge: A Path of Destruction
Chapter 91: Alex vs The Earth Patriarch (12)

Chapter 91: Alex vs The Earth Patriarch (12)

The world shuddered.

A deep, ancient rumble echoed from the bowels of the earth as Khepri exhaled, his eyes narrowing.

Enough.

A surge of brownish mana erupted from his core, engulfing his body like a second skin — thick, heavy, primordial.

The mere pressure of it bent the light around him, warping the battlefield in wild, nauseating waves.

The shattered ground groaned louder, the fractures in the earth splitting wider, and for a moment — a heartbeat — seemed to still.

Then, with a deep, cracking roar—

The earth answered his call.

Chunks of stone the size of towers wrenched free from the ground, ripping upward into the sky as if gravity itself had been reversed.

They didn’t simply float aimlessly; no, they moved with purpose, accelerating toward Alex from all directions like the fists of an angry god.

Alex darted backward, his golden form blurring through the chaos, narrowly avoiding a monolithic slab that crashed down behind him, splintering into a hailstorm of shrapnel.

Another stone spear shot toward him — he twisted mid-air, deflecting it with the flat of his katana, but the force behind it still drove him back several meters across the ruptured battlefield.

The very ground fought him now.

Every step he took cracked the surface further, forcing him to leap from one crumbling platform to another just to keep from being swallowed by the chaos.

Above, Khepri rose higher into the air, suspended by a throne of twisting stone and mana.

The brown light around him deepened, growing richer, heavier, as if he had dipped his soul into the marrow of the world itself.

The earth that floated around him began to shift.

Stone twisted and writhed unnaturally, forming monstrous weapons — swords as large as any, spears sharp enough to split mountains, and hammers capable of crushing cities. Various weapons were being created from the earth.

Each weapon hovered in the air like a grim constellation of death, pointed squarely at Alex.

But it didn’t stop there.

From the ground below, something worse was rising.

An army.

Figures emerged, sculpted entirely from raw stone and earth — knights clad in jagged armor, towering warriors wielding earthen weapons of every imaginable kind.

Dozens became hundreds, their hollow eyes glowing with Khepri’s mana, each soldier connected by invisible threads of will.

An army, born from the earth itself.

A chill slid down Alex’s spine as the battlefield transformed into a living nightmare.

Above the maelstrom, Khepri’s voice rolled out over the shattered world —a voice that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once, vibrating through the stone, the air, even the blood in Alex’s veins:

"Partial Law: Sovereign of Earth."

At those words, reality itself seemed to shift.

The laws of nature bent in Khepri’s favor.

The earth no longer belonged to the world — it belonged to him.

Alex planted his feet firmly on a floating platform of stone, his katana held low and ready, his body coiled like a spring.

He could feel it now — the suffocating dominance Khepri exerted over the very battlefield.

The world had become his weapon.

The air, the ground, the sky — it was all a part of him.

The army of stone knights raised their weapons in eerie unison.

The floating arsenal of colossal weapons gleamed menacingly under the fractured light of the sky.

And at the center of it all, Khepri — the Sovereign of Earth — looked down, a titan among men.

Alex’s grip tightened around his katana.

His golden aura pulsed once, violently, the lightning under his skin responding instinctively to the challenge ahead.

He wasn’t just fighting a man anymore.

He was fighting the world itself.

----

It was here—amid the carnage of a battlefield already torn beyond recognition—that the truth of the higher realms of power revealed itself.

Grandmasters were beings of unparalleled will.

They carved out domains through sheer mastery, creating territories where their strength ruled supreme.

Within those boundaries, they bent the laws of nature, sharpened their reflexes, and amplified their senses.

They became kings within cages of their own making—glorious, terrifying, but still confined.

Their domains, however vast and mighty, always had limits.

An edge.

A point where their authority faltered and the natural world reasserted itself.

But a Legend...

A Legend rank was something else entirely.

To step beyond the Grandmaster was to begin blurring the line between self and world.

It was not enough to simply impose will on nature;

The world itself had to be rewritten.

Bent, twisted, and shaped at a fundamental level.

Partial Law — that was its name.

A Legend began to weave the essence of their domain into the natural order, no longer fighting against reality, but becoming part of it.

Their authority seeped into the bones of the world like ink into water, dissolving boundaries until even the heavens and the earth could no longer tell where nature ended and the

Legend began.

It was incomplete.

It was imperfect.

But even a partial merging was enough to make them unstoppable.

No boundaries.

No walls to contain their influence.

The world itself became their weapon, their shield, their extension.

Against such power, domains collapsed like paper before a flood.

The battlefield would no longer be merely the stage — it would be the executioner, the prison, the noose.

And now, as Khepri stayed in the broken sky, his body cloaked in a surging tide of brownish-gold mana, the land itself answered his call.

The ground convulsed more, groaning under the strain of his forces awakening.

More chunks of earth the size of small hills ripped free from the ground, floating weightlessly as if the laws of gravity had surrendered before him.

The air shivered, warped, and then snapped violently, sending invisible blades of pressure screaming outward.

But the horror was only beginning.

Worse still, the land even more than before sprouted figures—hulking warriors, knights of stone clad in jagged armor,

Their hollow eyes were glowing faintly with the borrowed mana of their creator.

Each held weapons of nightmare, a crude mimicry of a mortal army, but far more unrelenting.

It was a vision torn from the end times—

as if the earth itself had risen in rebellion against anything that dared defy its sovereign.

A chill slid down Alex’s spine as the battlefield transformed into a nightmare.

Then—his voice rolled across the battlefield, deep and inexorable, as if spoken by the world itself:

And at the center of it all, Khepri stood above — looking down, his eyes burning like twin suns.

For a moment, all movement seemed to halt.

Then his voice, cold and commanding, rolled across the battlefield:

"Boy," he said,

"Play time is over."

The air thickened.

Mana surged.

Khepri raised one hand, and his voice, deeper and more terrible than before, resonated through the fractured sky:

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