Revenge: A Path of Destruction
Chapter 99: Alex vs The Earth Patriarch (19)

Chapter 99: Alex vs The Earth Patriarch (19)

Khepri’s golden eyes sharpened from his elevated vantage point, narrowing like chisels cutting into marble.

The battlefield, once dominated by his stone warriors and conjured weapons, had shifted in an instant, not through strategy, but through sheer force.

And he saw it all.

The moment it happened.

A burst of light and pressure detonated outward from Alex, not like an explosion—but like a god had drawn breath. Lightning didn’t arc. It screamed, erupting from the boy’s core like a second sun had cracked open within him. The very air fractured as mana-laced thunder snapped reality around him.

Khepri’s soldiers—hundreds of stone warriors, their carved expressions eternally stoic—had surrounded the boy like a noose, blades poised, spears raised, hammers mid-swing.

They never made contact.

In one flash, they were gone.

Stone arms vaporized mid-thrust. Greatswords shattered into gravel. Spears melted into smoking slag. The ground beneath them didn’t just crack—it collapsed, forming a shallow crater of scorched rock as if the lightning had judged the very earth unworthy to hold him.

The sky darkened.

Not because it was dusk, but because the light from Alex’s body had outshone the sun for a heartbeat.

And at the center of it all, surrounded by arcs of gold-white voltage, stood the boy, no longer the same as moments ago.

His once sleek black nano suit had turned lustrous gold, as if dipped in liquid thunder. The lines across the armor pulsed like veins, carrying electricity instead of blood. The hood had retracted, revealing wild silver-blonde hair that now shimmered with faint static. His face remained hidden beneath a dark mask, but his presence... it was undeniable.

Something powerful had awakened inside him.

Khepri’s gaze remained locked, unmoving, even as residual thunder continued to ripple through the air, toppling the last remaining stone constructs around the crater.

Limit Break...

The words rang in his mind with weight.

He’d seen it once before.

Lucian.

Years ago, the Thunder Clan’s battle prodigy had used it—not against him, but during a battle where Khepri had been present. Back then, the effect had been powerful but controlled. Lightning danced around him, his power spiked, yes—but nothing like this.

This was not just inheritance.

It was an evolution.

Khepri’s mind churned, and with it came understanding—and unease.

The Thunder Clan... they’re not like the others.

The Earth Clan, his clan, could mold stone and mountain with a thought, while their physical body was empowered by mana. Their power was in control, in the way they bent terrain and matter like clay. Their strength was both externalized and internal, their bodies supported by mana.

But the Thunder Clan?

They had always been different.

They could not extend their mana beyond their bodies, no matter how much they trained. And yet, for that very reason, they became warriors like no other—every cell, every fiber, every bone tailored for battle. They weren’t built to manipulate the world—they were built to endure it, and conquer it with their flesh.

And it came from their god.

The Weapon Master.

The higher god of war, thunder, destruction, of close combat, and primal might.

While others shaped the battlefield, the Thunder God shaped his vessel.

And so too did those who carry his blood.

They pushed mana inward, deep into nerves and muscles, rewriting what it meant to be human. And their final art—Limit Break—was not just a power surge.

It was a rebellion against the boundaries of flesh.

It is not elegance. It is not art, Khepri thought. It is warfare incarnate.

In contrast, the Water Clan was its mirrored twin—endless mana reserves, soft-bodied mages whose abilities could reshape oceans, and yet whose forms could not survive a direct clash with beasts without enchantments or barriers. Their goddess was one of purity and renewal, a being of infinite potential and infinite patience.

But the Thunder Clan had no such patience.

They didn’t wait.

They charged.

And now that power—raw, aggressive, untamed—was staring back at Khepri, its golden glow reflected in his eyes.

This fight was supposed to end soon, he realized.

But it has only just begun.

Khepri’s jaw clenched for the first time in the battle.

The ground beneath Alex still sizzled with electricity, his every breath releasing vaporized mana in crackling waves.

Khepri frowned as he looked at the scene.

He had seen Alex fight earlier—calculative, fast, brutal, yes—but still within Grandmaster limits. It was the suit that had closed the gap between them, some external construct that granted fleeting power. Khepri had planned accordingly, expecting the timer to run out.

But this... this wasn’t the suit anymore.

This was something primal, something genetic. Something meant to break through the ceiling of power, not just borrow from it.

Khepri could sense it—the boy had crossed a threshold, his arms folding behind his back.

’His physical strength had just reached the Legend rank, even without the suit. No, not completely. Not yet. But he had knocked on the door hard enough to crack it open.’

And now—Khepri’s lips thinned.

Now this fight truly begins.

Alex stood amidst the ruin he had born.

The golden lightning hadn’t just transformed his body — it elevated it. The ground beneath his feet hissed with arcs of thunder that lashed outward like frayed whips of divinity, burning black spirals into the soil. The once-black nanosuit now shimmered with radiant gold, lines of condensed power surging across its armored plates like molten veins. His hood had been peeled away in the transformation, exposing his silver hair, now wild and dancing with static, a crown befitting the storm.

Then came NOVA’s voice, calm, informative, but edged with concern:

"Your physical condition is unstable, Alex. There are multiple wounds on you. The nano-suit’s integrity has dropped to 28%. According to my calculation, you have seven minutes before the suit collapses. Ten minutes before your body follows, so make use of it."

Alex didn’t answer.

Instead, he simply exhaled—slow and steady, like a man not racing against time, but embracing it. He could feel the heavy silence of the battlefield. The wind had vanished. The stone warriors stood paused, their once-unrelenting assault halted by instinct or fear. The floating arsenal of conjured weapons hovered mid-air like the jaws of a beast unwilling to snap.

He reached behind him.

Fingers curled around the hilt of his katana.

ZzzzzzRRK.

The blade hissed as it slid from its sheath, golden arcs leaping down its length like a living current. The stance was unmistakable — a draw-slash meant for one thing: lethal speed.

That’s when her voice reached him — Nyxara. Soft, warm, and laced with worry, her presence brushed his mind like a whisper of dusk wind over scorched earth.

"Alex... be careful. Don’t do anything crazy. I’m here, always. Your life is more important than this fight. If anything happens, I’ll be there before the next breath leaves your body... so take it easy."

A faint smile ghosted across his face beneath the mask. Not for the battlefield. Not for Khepri. But for her.

Then it vanished.

His body tensed. Lightning tightened. Muscles coiled like drawn wire.

"Thunder Control. Katana Form — First Art: Godspeed Slash."

He moved.

No—he vanished.

The space he once occupied cracked open with a sonic boom. Golden lightning exploded outward, disintegrating the ground under his feet, rupturing the air in his wake. A pressure wave followed his departure, howling like a jet engine made of thunder.

The stone warriors didn’t even have time to react.

Some shattered instantly — not from the blade, but from the raw speed of his motion. The force Alex generated just by moving tore through them like shock grenades detonating point-blank. Stone bodies imploded, chests crushed inward, weapons flung aside and cracked mid-air, their surfaces spiderwebbing under the pressure.

He had become a blur of golden arcs, a comet ripping through the battlefield.

Then, silence returned.

Only for a moment.

Khepri looked up.

And there he was.

Alex. Already airborne. Already in front of him.

His katana already descending, glowing bright enough to cast shadows across Khepri’s face.

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