Revenge: A Path of Destruction
Chapter 97: Alex vs The Earth Patriarch (17)

Chapter 97: Alex vs The Earth Patriarch (17)

Earth Clan Estate — Moments Before the Battle

The estate, once buzzing with the quiet urgency of evacuation, now stood frozen under the crushing weight of dread. A suffocating silence clung to the air, heavy as the moment before a final heartbeat.

Nyxara lay still on the same ground Alex had left her. The fading light traced along the obsidian stripes of her massive frame. Her golden eyes remained open—unblinking, fixed on the distant horizon.

On the battlefield.

Where Alex had gone.

Where the storm had begun.

Beside her, four thunder-forged cages crackled faintly—her creation. They hovered just above the terrace, each containing a figure: Lady Nandi, Lady Lucy, Neferura, and Menkara. As Alex had instructed.

A few minutes earlier...

Beneath the palace, in the eastern corridor leading to the emergency bunker, the inner circle of the Earth Clan had gathered. The upper levels had already been secured with civilians and servants. Only the core members remained: Lady Nandi, her daughter Neferura, Lady Lucy, and her children Talibah and Menkara, as well as Thutmose and the rest of the elders. They decided to stay behind to monitor the beast.

They were moving swiftly toward the fortified section of the bunker reserved for the ruling bloodline when—

BOOM.

The corridor exploded in arcs of black lightning. Thunder surged through the floor and ceiling. In an instant, dark energy coiled and snapped into place, forming shimmering cages around each royal.

Gasps filled the air as the trapped royals staggered back—suspended mid-air, imprisoned, unable to touch the ground.

Lady Lucy screamed. Menkara reached for his space ring—only for its glow to flicker and die as the lightning surged tighter.

"W–What is this?!" Lady Nandi hissed, her fists clenching. "She signed the contract! She cannot harm us!"

All eyes turned upward.

To the massive tigress, which could be seen from anywhere in the Estate.

Nyxara hadn’t moved. She still watched, regal and unmoved.

Thutmose and the elders who had stayed behind were shocked to see the rest of the family floating toward the beast, trapped in cages made of black lightning. Witnessing this, Thutmose took a slow step forward, his expression tense and muscles tight. Each footstep echoed like a countdown. He had experienced her power before—had felt it crush entire squads with just her presence. He had never forgotten.

"What..." His voice was low, deliberate. "What the hell are you doing? This violates the contract. If you harm even one of them—"

He stopped.

Nyxara raised her head.

And the air shattered.

A torrent of energy burst forth from her eyes, radiating with an intensity that felt like a raging flood. The ancient stone floor beneath Thutmose’s feet splintered under the pressure, fissures spiderwebbing outward. He felt a wave of weakness crash over him, threatening to bring him to his knees—this was Thutmose, a Grandmaster of unparalleled skill, left teetering on the brink of collapse by nothing more than a single, piercing glance.

She didn’t roar.

She didn’t growl.

She spoke.

"The contract forbids me from harming them."

Her voice was smooth. Too smooth. Like velvet drawn across a sword’s edge.

"It says nothing about caging them."

The thunder cages hummed in the silence, casting flickering shadows across stunned faces. Even the Second Princess tilted her head slightly, acknowledging the calculated loophole.

No one spoke.

Not for a long time.

Then, slowly, Thutmose straightened beneath the crushing pressure. He exhaled through his nose.

"...You’re walking a fine line, beast."

Nyxara lowered her head back onto her paws.

"And so is your family."

A pause. A breath.

"As they are about to pay for the sins of their past."

----

The earth was a shattered canvas of blood and stone, ruptured by mana and steel. Craters gaped where warriors clashed. Dust churned with every impact.

At the center stood Alex.

Bruised. Bloodied. Panting. His katana dragged along the ground, sparks dancing from its chipped edge. Mana shimmered weakly across his limbs—barely holding.

Khepri’s voice was no longer audible. It had been drowned beneath the chorus of stone and steel.

The stone warriors kept coming.

Wave after relentless wave.

Coordinated. Calculated. Smothering.

But everything changed the moment Khepri lifted two fingers.

Then closed them into a fist.

The battlefield shuddered.

Mana twisted the very fabric of the air, creating a palpable tension that hummed across the landscape. Everywhere one looked, statues and weapons began to radiate a rich, brownish glow—reminiscent of molten earth captured in mid-flow. Intricate cracks traced their surfaces, not the result of wear and tear, but rather deliberate artistry, as if the very essence of the land had sculpted them with intention.

Mana pulsed through these objects like searing magma coursing through ancient veins, infusing them with life and energy that whispered of forgotten power and unyielding strength.

Alex’s eyes widened.

Then came the command.

A single word.

Spoken like a verdict:

"Crush him."

The world turned vicious.

Where once they moved like machines, the stone warriors now struck like predators. Axes swung with sonic booms. Spears extended mid-flight, tipped with spiraling runes. Some sprouted extra limbs. Others grew shields that shifted shape between strikes.

One slammed into Alex’s ribs before he could react.

Boom!

His body twisted as it was hurled through a broken pillar, crashing and skidding along the torn earth. He rolled to his feet—

Too late.

A halberd and axe descended like twin guillotines.

He blocked one, ducked the other—but his shoulder was left open.

A stone fist found it.

Crack.

Blood flew from Alex’s mouth as he hit the ground hard, dragging his blade behind him to slow his tumble.

"Nova!" he screamed inwardly, every breath a struggle. "They’ve changed!"

Nova replied, voice laced with urgency. "Khepri has gone from being a spectator to the conductor. He’s now guiding every movement manually. High-level mana threading. Their coordination is nearly perfect."

Even as she spoke, three warriors closed in—one above, one below, one behind.

Alex spun into a blur, katana flashing. He parried high, deflected low, twisted—

Just in time to avoid the blade meant for his spine.

He retaliated with a slash that shattered a weapon—but the warrior didn’t flinch. It let the hilt drop and lunged, double fists hammering into Alex’s chest.

Air left his lungs.

He couldn’t move without being punished.

He wasn’t being fought.

He was being hunted.

From high above, Khepri watched like a god among insects. He didn’t move. He didn’t shout. He merely thought—and mana obeyed. Warriors shifted. Weapons adapted. Every motion on the battlefield was a note in the song he conducted.

Alex spat blood, slamming his hand into the earth to rise again.

This was no longer a battle to be taken lightly. This was a declaration.

And with every strike, the message grew louder.

Khepri wasn’t holding back anymore.

He was serious.

And Alex was in real danger.