Brandon then shifted his chilling gaze to Devon, his grin a haunting promise of the malevolence that lay ahead.
"I guess family doesn't mean much to you either, eh boy?"
The words hung in the air, chilling in their implications.
Sir Adam dangled from Brandon's grip, the former's feet twitching helplessly off the ground.
Sir Adam's attention darted to Devon, a look not so much of pleading but of curiosity, wondering how his grandson would react.
With a fluidity that masked his deadly intentions, Brandon moved in an elegant dance of power and speed.
He stood a distance away from Crystal and in a heartbeat, he was upon her grandfather, gripping the old man's neck fiercely.
Despite the palpable danger, a cruel smile played at the corners of Brandon's lips.
His gaze locked onto Devon's, a silent challenge, a taunting dare that said more than words ever could.
Crystal turned to face them and screamed,
"Please Brandon, NOOO!"
Devon felt a cold weight settle in his chest as Brandon's words, laden with malice, pierced the still air.
His eyes darted back and forth, avoiding eye contact.
As his grandfather's disappointed eyes sought his, something broke within him.
'I'm sorry, old man...'
Devon's thoughts raced, driven by panic and self-preservation.
'You've had your time. The world needs leaders, not relics. It's a new age, and I won't be the sacrificial lamb.'
A surge of resentment bubbled up, years of living under Sir Adam's imposing shadow flooding back.
'You've looked down on me all my life, the Heart of Civilization is the only way I can bounce back! It's… It's for the nation.'
He averted his gaze, a thin sheen of sweat forming on his brow.
He felt his grandfather's gaze on him — a mix of disbelief, despair, and the vestiges of hope that had all but evaporated.
Sir Adam, despite the constricting grip around his neck, managed to focus on the boy he had raised, mentored, and invested in. The pain was not from the lack of air, but from the stark betrayal he felt.
'Devon...'
Sir Adam's thoughts were a mournful whisper.
'Did I protect you too much? Did I not prepare you for moments like this? Or did I elevate you so high that you've forgotten what it means to be human?'
The weight of disappointment was heavier than any physical assault.
'The Heart of Civilization... I hoped it would remain our secret, our final trump card. But seeing you now, it's clear: we've already lost.'
In silence, grandfather and grandson exchanged heavy glances.
Every fleeting second deepened the chasm between them.
Sir Adam's eyes fluttered weakly, his life teetering on a precipice of despair and fading hope. Each labored breath seemed to drain more of his spirit, his faith in his lineage all but shattered.
Brandon's sneer was evident even through his helmet, the disdain dripping from his every word,
"So this is the great Devon Winchester, huh? Pathetic..."
But before anyone could react, the courtyard was bathed in a brilliant, almost blinding, luminescence.
Tears threatened the corners of Crystal's eyes as she took in her grandfather's plight. Anguish and determination churned within her.
As she clenched her fists, her ethereal armor responded, shimmering with divine energy and pulsing with shared outrage.
The air around her became thick with electricity, each particle charged with her raw emotions.
Drawing upon all the pain, fear, and hope she felt, she unleashed a determined cry, invoking,
" [ Divine Judgement ] !!!"
As the bolt of lightning surged forward, a floating golden text appeared above Crystal,
[ Skill Cast: Divine Judgement - Tier 1 ]
[ Effect: Wrath of the Wronged | Damage: Moderate Betrayal Severity | ]
From her raised palm, an intense bolt of lightning surged forward, its power and trajectory reminiscent of the legendary bolts hurled by Zeus himself.
The electric blue beam roared through the air, causing the very ground to tremble in awe.
Instantly recognizing the threat, Brandon's black abyss ethereal armor sprang to life.
The armor's helmet seamlessly enclosed around his face, the visor glowing ominously, signifying its battle mode activation.
With a swift motion, he hurled Sir Adam towards Crystal, hoping to use him as a momentary distraction.
Almost simultaneously, his other hand shot out, grabbing Devon by the throat, asserting his dominance over the younger man.
Crystal's heart raced as she watched her grandfather's limp form being thrown her way.
Rushing forward, she caught him in her arms just as his body began to convulse, his lungs gasping for breath after the brutal asphyxiation.
*Cough…* *Cough…* *Cough…*
Each cough was a painful reminder of the precarious situation they were in.
In the split second it took for all this to unfold, Brandon, with Devon in tow, tried to evade the relentless bolt of lightning.
The bolt seemed alive, swerving and twisting with an uncanny precision, as if guided by the very hand of the gods.
Anticipating a direct impact, the courtyard held its collective breath.
A deafening roar accompanied the blinding flash as the bolt struck its mark.
The ground quaked, and a plume of dust and debris shot into the air, obscuring vision momentarily.
When the dust finally settled, a horrific sight greeted them.
Brandon, though singed and visibly affected by the attack, had his palm pressed against Devon's chest.
A ghastly, inky tendril connected the two, and it was evident that the life force was being siphoned from Devon directly into Brandon.
The younger man's eyes were wide with terror and pain, his body withering slowly as if days of his life were being stripped away.
" [Devour] !!!"
Brandon exclaimed with a malicious glee.
The dark energy around him pulsed and surged, absorbing Devon's essence voraciously.
The surrounding air grew cold as life was drawn out, and a revitalized Brandon, now glowing with an eerie light, stood tall, basking in the temporary boost of power.
There was a brief moment, as Devon's life was being siphoned away, where Brandon's gaze turned distant.
A hazy flashback – a younger Brandon, scarred and battered, perhaps a memory from an early battleground or betrayal.
That glimpse into his past, fleeting as it was, hinted that there was more to his cruelty than just raw ambition.
There were wounds, deeper and older, fueling his actions.
The resounding echoes of the terrible feast of energy Brandon had just partaken in hadn't even begun to fade when another, even more menacing presence took center stage.
From behind Brandon, Baph emerged, his hulking silhouette even more imposing than before.
Behind him, a formation of elite warriors – the 100 enlightened ones – spread out.
Every single one of them had an aura that was palpable, a testament to their individual prowess and the collective might they represented.
Each step they took resonated with discipline, determination, and power, creating a rhythm that felt like the foreboding beat of war drums.
As one, they stomped, the ground quivering under their might, sending ripples of dread through the very heart of the Capital City.
Their eyes, filled with a fierce light, scanned the horizon, assessing, judging, and almost taunting anyone who dared stand in their way.
With a single, synchronized motion, they entered into their battle stances, their synchronized movements so precise that they seemed to move as one singular entity.
A chilling testament to their unity and shared purpose.
Then, with an energy that could shake the very heavens, Baph led them in a ferocious battle cry.
"RAHHHH!"
Their voices melded into one booming sound that seemed to shake the very foundation of the city.