Asher, seeing they had survived, gripped his sword tightly and launched himself toward them like a meteor.
The prodigies, who had witnessed Asher's overwhelming power, exchanged horrified glances. Up until now, they hadn't truly understood who they were dealing with.
They had heard stories and legends of Asher's strength, but seeing it—feeling it firsthand—was an entirely different terror.
Every fiber of their beings screamed for escape, but under the watchful gaze of the advancing figure, hope seemed like a distant memory. With a single, thunderous impact from Asher's landing, the ground erupted into debris and destruction.
Asher appeared right in front of Pericles. Before the prodigy could even register his presence, Asher's blade flashed, severing both of Pericles' arms.
Several agonizing seconds passed before Pericles finally realized what had happened. His anguished cries echoed through the thick smoke of dust and debris as he collapsed to the ground in shock and pain.
Looking up in terror, he saw Asher hovering above him, staring coldly into his eyes. In a blur, Asher disappeared again.
The remaining prodigies, blinded by the dense dust that cloaked the battlefield, were gripped by panic.
They could neither see a way to flee nor fly away—somehow, Asher's oppressive aura destabilized their soul-ores, preventing them from generating enough mantra.
"Wha… wha… what?! He's a monster! I don't want to die! Someone get me out of here!"
Androcleides shouted in desperation, his voice cracking under the weight of his fear.
In the next instant, he felt his body suddenly lighter—his legs were gone.
The realization hit him like a tidal wave, and for a moment, he was numb. Then the pain surged through him, tearing a blood-curdling scream from his throat that echoed even to the distant fortress.
The battlefield was a chaos of dust and carnage.
The other prodigies, desperate and terrified, struggled to escape the maze of debris. But their attention snapped toward an approaching heat—a red and yellow glow faintly visible through the haze, growing brighter and more intense.
Then came the booming voice from above the dust-clouded battlefield:
"Fourth Guardian Technique: Flame Purification."
The prodigies braced themselves with the faint remnants of mantra they could muster, but it wasn't enough. A scorching sea of fire tore through the battlefield, triggering an explosive force that rippled across the area.
Seconds later, the dust began to clear, revealing the aftermath. Several of the prodigies were critically wounded, their bodies scorched and barely clinging to life. Two of them, Pericles and Adeimantus, had perished—burned to ash in an instant.
Above them, Asher hovered, his six radiant plumes blazing like a divine inferno. His fiery sword gleamed, his majestic shield glowed, and his golden armor shone brilliantly in the moonlight. He was the embodiment of a guardian, radiating unmatched authority and power.
Meanwhile, across various empires, rulers sat in their thrones, watching the events unfold on the battlefield through mana-infused crystal drones.
In the grand echoing halls of the Avalon Royal Castle, Emperor Wolven Leo sat uneasily on his throne.
Before him was a shimmering projection—a live feed displayed through mantra-infused crystals and rune-imbued machinery. This advanced technology, created by the S.T.E.E.L Organization, captured every harrowing moment of the battlefield in excruciating detail.
He watched as their plans crumbled with each passing second. He knew his son was powerful, but even he was taken aback by the sheer display of strength.
Yet he wasn't the only one shocked and terrified. Surrounding the throne were the corrupted royal consorts, ministers, dukes, and representatives of the noble families—all pillars of the Avalon Empire.
Even they exchanged fearful glances. They began voicing their concerns to the Emperor, their whispers spreading through the chamber like wildfire.
"If Asher succeeds… he will definitely hunt us down for what we've done to him. No one in the empire can stop him."
Duke Alaric murmured in fear.
The High Minister, Vassilis, nodded, cold sweat trickling down his face.
"Our defenses would be crippled, and even if by some miracle we survive his wrath, our enemies will see this as a sign of weakness…"
"This isn't the boy I watched grow with my own eyes."
One elder added in a shaking tone.
"At first, I thought he wouldn't dare attack us, but after what just happened—slaughtering thousands of rankers like they were nothing—I can only feel fear now."
Within moments, they all dropped to their knees, pleading with the Emperor to summon reinforcements and use every resource the empire could muster.
But amidst the chaos, Asher's father could only stare at the projection of his son, shock etched on his face. He couldn't tell if the feeling stirring within him was fear… or pride, pride in having fathered someone so terrifying in a time of war and conquest.
He knew, however, that if Asher wasn't stopped, he would become the greatest threat the world had ever known. Though he had done his fair share of heroic deeds in the past, he was now keenly aware that the continent feared his son's power far more than they revered it.
As he became lost in thought, his elder son, Leo Zebulon, stood beside him.
Leo wasn't a fan of betraying his younger brother, but he had no say in the matter. Though he cursed Asher for taking all the glory and privileges, deep down, he could never wish death upon him.
And yet, there he sat among the consorts, their cruel and corrupt family members, and his own father. Leo muttered a curse under his breath.
In another corner of the room, a cluster of noble children were also watching the event unfold through a similar projection.
Rhesus and Kain sat side by side, paralyzed by fear as they witnessed the true might of the father of the boy they had always bullied — Abaddon.
Across the other empires, rulers mourned their losses. The Indigean Empire and Theones Empire, in particular, reeled from the deaths of their treasured prodigies, Pericles and Androcleides.
All eyes remained glued to the screen, waiting to see what Asher would do next. And then it happened. From the projections visible across the empires, Asher turned slowly, his cold gaze piercing through the viewers.
He raised a single finger, a sphere of glowing mantra energy forming at its tip. Without hesitation, he began destroying the hidden surveillance drones hovering in the skies above him.
Each drone exploded in a burst of light, and the screens in royal halls flickered with static. One by one, every empire lost sight of what was happening.
In the Avalonian royal chamber, Leo Zebulon gasped in fear.
"He… he destroyed the surveillance," one noble stammered, his face pale.
"Asher knew we were watching."
Another added in a trembling voice.
"I'm afraid… he's coming straight for us."
Another elder panicked, all while the Emperor, hearing the panic and fear and pleading, couldn't bear the pressure anymore.
He got up from the throne and headed out of the chamber in a hurry, escorted by his elite guard. He walked through the silent halls with echoing steps toward the royal temple — the god the Avalonians worshipped and their religion.
When he arrived at the Temple of Zuryxal, he gave orders for the guards and nobles to wait outside. They watched as the Emperor entered the grand sanctuary alone.
The Temple of Zuryxal was a vast, ancient structure, carved from white marble that gleamed under the soft light of enchanted braziers.
Statues of the god of gods, Zuryxal, lined the hall, each one carved with painstaking detail that depicted the god in various displays of power: raising fire, holding the sky, seated in judgment, and so forth.
Once inside, the Emperor was greeted by the Flame Apostle, the priest of Zuryxal and an actual demi-god. The Emperor proceeded to the sacred chambers of the temple.
His footsteps echoed as he approached the statue of Zuryxal himself. This was a towering figure carved in dark granite. The god sat on an ornate throne, one hand holding the sun, with a fierce, judgmental gaze.
Suddenly, the Emperor went on his knees and bowed before the statue of the deity, shivering all over.
"Great Zuryxal," he cried out in a trembling tone.
"I come to you as your servant, your loyal follower. My son, Asher… he's too strong. He's defied the boundaries of man, and those who pursued the Penthagorux-Divine Soul have all been annihilated."
He paused and continued in a more desperate tone.
"I beg of you, mighty god Zuryxal, to intervene. Send your divine warriors from above, those who can contain such power… Please, protect us."
As he finished speaking, silence fell in the chamber. Several seconds later, the eyes of the statue in front of him lit up in flames, and then it moved its gaze toward the Emperor, whose face was bowed down.
A rumble of fire filled the temple, echoing off the marble walls. The Emperor looked up as a flash of light burst from above, illuminating the entire chamber in a blinding radiance.
The statue of Zuryxal glowed in flames, radiating energy throughout the temple.
With a resounding boom, a flaming beam struck from the heavens toward the temple. The beam hit the statue's outstretched hand, causing the sphere in its grasp to radiate fire like the actual sun.
This was a sign that the elder god had responded to his request.
The Emperor bowed three times to show his respect before he got up to leave. As he exited the inner chamber, the guilt of his actions gnawed at his conscience.
All he could say was, "Asher, forgive me."
Emperor Wolven Leo kept his head bowed, the weight of guilt pressing down on him. He closed his eyes, speaking silently in his mind to his son.
'Asher… forgive me. This was the only choice. To make sure you defy the gods and they can eradicate you. Even the very gods you worshipped since birth see you as a threat… That is why they conspired to provoke you into acting. I am sorry I cannot be the best father for you in this life.'
Back on the battlefield, the prodigies continued to struggle for their lives as they begged the hero to spare them.
"You… you… you can't do this! Aren't you the hero? Spare us!"
One prodigy, looking up at Asher with a half-burnt, unrecognizable face, spoke in desperation as tears swelled in his eyes.
"Yes… as the hero, you can't annihilate us. We are the top prodigies of the human continent. If you cut us down… the future of humanity would be in chaos once you're gone. Think of it!"
Another spoke, trembling, attempting to persuade the hero, who quietly gazed at them with empty eyes from above.
"You care for the future of humanity, don't you? If we die, the other races would belittle us. So, please… have mercy!"
Another one spoke, crawling on the scorched ground.
Asher, without a word, lifted his sword once again, high above him, as he continued to look at the prodigies struggling below.
They were shocked by this action and started crying for mercy even louder. Then Asher's voice broke the chaos.
"I used to care about humanity… but the word is used to. Where was mercy when you slaughtered every single one of my men? Yeah… I thought so."
Without hesitating further, he gripped his sword with both hands and began channeling all his mantra into one attack.
The darkened sky somehow became even darker, until he roared at the top of his voice:
"Ultimate Guardian Technique, World Dominance!"
In a fraction of a second, nothing happened. Then, out of nowhere, the battlefield turned cold as a massive golden palm began to form above. It easily covered half the empire.
Citizens and others beneath this attack froze in fear. Asher swiped his hand downward, directing the attack.
With that gesture, World Dominance began taking effect. The first effect was the sudden gravitational push from the oncoming palm. All rankers below five-star common ranks were instantly crushed and vaporized into nothingness.
Deep in the mountains, a figure lay in a crater, looking toward the battlefield. It seemed he had crashed through three mountains before being stopped by the fourth.
It was Gad. Moments ago, he was unconscious, but suddenly he woke up just in time to see the whole sky covered by the massive golden hand.
The sheer pressure sent him back into unconsciousness within seconds. His body, still at the Imperium rank, was too damaged to resist.
Back to Asher, he hovered in the sky, staring down at the prodigies who continued pleading in tears and regret.
Behind his cold look, Asher still felt sadness in his heart. But if he left vile, selfish people like the prodigies alive, the human continent would only suffer in the future. With one last glance, he wished them to die in peace.
The prodigies screamed as some began cursing Asher's name, but none could escape the inevitable. The golden hand continued its descent, its fingers curling like the grasp of a titan, crushing down the mountains in its range.
But just as the hand was about to make contact, something changed—something ominous.
Then it happened.
Everything… stopped.
The air stilled.
The debris that had been swirling around froze mid-air.
The dust that had been kicked up, the cries of the prodigies, even the wind itself, vanished.
Time itself had come to a standstill.
Something wasn't right, and Asher, unaffected by this time stop, questioned himself.
"What… the… hell is happening?"
Immediately after he said that, a voice reverberated across the human continent. This caused Asher to be on high alert, reading the atmosphere to identify the cause.
From thin air, a crack appeared and gradually expanded, starting to resemble fractured glass.
This caused Asher to instinctively fly back. He knew one thing for sure.
"Void traveling… are the gods that desperate to destroy me?"