Free Web NovelChapter 38: Chapter 38: The Sky Falls
The sun did not rise over the Whispering Forest.
Instead, a suffocating canopy of corrupted, violet clouds violently choked out the dawn. From the edge of the royal plains, the scouting battalions of the Aethelgard Royal Army stared in sheer, paralyzing horror at the horizon.
The forest was gone. In its place stood the Obsidian Fortress—a sprawling, jagged nightmare of hyper-dense black glass and Abyssal architecture that pierced the heavens. The walls were over two hundred feet high, pulsing with a heavy, magnetic void mana that made the scouts’ warhorses panic and buck.
Five miles away, Grand Marshall Gideon sat atop a heavily armored war-griffin. His single good eye narrowed as he surveyed the impossible structure through a far-seeing spyglass.
"The Pontiff is a senile fool," Gideon muttered, his Level 92 Aura flaring with grim realization. "We cannot starve out a Dungeon Master who can terraform the continent at will. He isn’t trapped in that fortress. He is anchoring it to our world." free𝑤ebnovel.com
"Marshall!" a lieutenant yelled, riding up with a frantic expression. "It’s Lord Cassius Valerius! He defied your holding orders. He took the remaining Vanguard Knights and his three Crimson Siege Drakes! They are making a bombing run directly for the Heretic’s battlements!"
Gideon cursed violently. "The arrogant little shit is going to hand the Heretic more experience! Sound the retreat horn! Get them back here!"
But it was already too late.
High above the plains, three massive Crimson Siege Drakes tore through the unnatural violet clouds. Each beast was the size of a galleon, their scales heavily warded by the Church, and their jaws dripping with volatile, highly compressed wind and fire mana. Riding the lead drake was Cassius Valerius, his face twisted in unadulterated rage.
"Burn it to the ground!" Cassius roared, channeling his mana into the drake’s reins. "Avenge my father! Turn this black glass into dust!" freёweɓnovel.com
The three drakes opened their massive maws. The air pressure plummeted as they simultaneously unleashed a terrifying, tri-elemental breath attack. A blinding torrent of holy fire, wind blades, and raw kinetic force plummeted directly toward the center of the Obsidian Fortress.
Standing on the highest battlement, Kaelen didn’t even flinch.
The dark wind whipped his tunic around his heavily muscled frame. He simply leaned against the jagged parapet, resting his chin on his knuckles.
"Seraphina," he commanded smoothly, not bothering to look up at the descending inferno. "Swat those flies."
Seraphina stepped up to the edge of the wall. She didn’t cast a ward. She didn’t brace for impact. She simply raised the Eclipse Breaker—the Mythic-Tier greatsword Elara had forged from Malakor’s inverted core.
The exact moment the massive torrent of holy fire and wind made contact with the pitch-black blade, reality seemed to stutter.
The Eclipse Breaker didn’t deflect the magic; it actively inhaled it. The corrupted golden runes along the fuller flared with blinding intensity as the blade violently devoured the divine bombardment. The roaring inferno was instantly sucked into the metal like water down a drain, completely nullified.
Up in the sky, Cassius’s eyes widened in sheer, mind-breaking disbelief. "What... what is that sword?!"
Down on the wall, Seraphina let out a dark, euphoric laugh.
[Passive Effect Triggered: Magic Devoured. Converting to Physical Stamina...]
Her muscles visibly tightened as the stolen thermal energy violently spiked her physical stats. She gripped the hilt with both hands, channeling her Level 85 Paladin strength and the newly absorbed energy into a single, devastating upward swing.
"Abyssal Cleave."
A massive horizontal crescent of pure, hyper-dense void mana erupted from the blade. It was so fast it shattered the sound barrier, creating a vacuum that ripped the surrounding clouds perfectly in two.
The void slash slammed directly into the three Siege Drakes.
The Church’s holy wards melted instantly on contact. The razor-sharp void energy cleanly severed the wings off the two flanking drakes, sending the massive beasts tumbling out of the sky in a fountain of blood.
They crashed violently against the sheer obsidian walls of the fortress, their bodies instantly crushed by the impact.
[Kill: Crimson Siege Drake (Level 50) x2. +60,000 EXP.]
Cassius’s lead drake barely managed to pull up, avoiding the direct brunt of the slash, but the shockwave completely shredded its underbelly. Cassius screamed as his mount violently lost altitude, desperately spiraling back toward the safety of the Royal Army lines.
"Coward," Seraphina spat, resting the pulsing greatsword back on her shoulder. She turned to Kaelen and bowed her head. "Should I pursue, Master? I can easily catch them before they reach the treeline."
"No. Let the boy live and tell his Grand Marshall exactly what happens when they throw magic at you," he replied, a wicked, predatory smirk dominating his features. He turned away from the battlement and looked at the shadows pooling perfectly around the stone pillars. "Lyriel."
The pale-skinned dark elf materialized instantly, dropping seamlessly from the ceiling of the archway. She knelt before him, her poisoned daggers gleaming in the violet light.
"The army is stalling," he said, his voice echoing with absolute authority. "They know a direct siege is suicide. They will try to build a perimeter of holy wards to quarantine the Domain and starve us of EXP."
"They are fools to think a wall can hold the Abyss, Master," Lyriel purred, her silver eyes filled with deep, obsessive loyalty.
"Indeed," he agreed, stepping closer and gently tracing the line of Lyriel’s jaw with his large, calloused thumb. "But I have no intention of sitting here while they dig trenches. I need their command structure broken."
Lyriel leaned into his touch, a shiver of pleasure running down her spine. "Give me the names, Master."
"The Pontiff’s Diviners," he commanded softly. "They are the eyes of the capital. If they cannot see the Dungeon’s internal mana flow, the Royal Army is fighting blind. Slip past their siege lines. Infiltrate the Grand Cathedral. Slit their throats and burn their scrying arrays."
"It will be done, Master," Lyriel whispered. She completely dissolved into a flat, two-dimensional shadow, rapidly sliding down the sheer face of the obsidian wall and racing invisibly across the plains toward the capital.
Kaelen turned his gaze toward the courtyard below.
Elara was standing before a massive, roaring Abyssal furnace she had constructed directly in the open air. Dozens of towering, heavily muscled Abyssal Brutes stood flawlessly at attention around her.
Using her Level 50 Abyssal Forge-Master skills, Elara was mass-producing thick, jagged void-iron plating and vicious trench-maces, outfitting the Dungeon’s natural spawns with military-grade armaments.
Kaelen casually leaped from the two-hundred-foot battlement. He didn’t use a spell to slow his descent. He simply crashed into the courtyard like a meteor, the obsidian floor cracking violently beneath his heavy boots, entirely absorbed by his massive physical stats.
Elara looked up, wiping soot from her flushed cheek. Her emerald eyes immediately dilated with deep affection. "Master. The first battalion of Brutes is fully armored. Their void-iron plates are highly resistant to standard piercing arrows."
"You work too hard, Alchemist," Kaelen murmured, stepping into her personal space. The intense heat of the forge was nothing compared to the heavy, suffocating pressure of his Level 65 aura. He grabbed her waist, pulling her flush against his chest.
Elara gasped, her hands resting against his solid chest. "I only exist to build your empire, Kaelen."
"And you are building it perfectly," he whispered, pressing a heavy, demanding kiss to her lips. He deliberately fed her a small, highly concentrated pulse of his void mana, rewarding her exhaustion with a violent spike of euphoric energy.
[Harem Intimacy Maintained. Buffs Applied: Crafting Speed +50% for 2 Hours.]
Elara pulled back, her chest heaving, completely intoxicated by the casual exchange of power.
He turned and looked toward the massive, heavily reinforced iron gates of his new fortress. Beyond those doors, the combined military might of Aethelgard was slowly gathering, terrified of the dark god that had claimed their lands.
"Let them build their camps," he declared, his deep voice carrying over the crackling flames of the forge. "Let them deploy their knights. When the sun sets, we open the gates."
