The tension of the previous chapter had barely subsided when Solomon found himself trapped in a deadly predicament, surrounded by the Dark Order's forces. Their ghostly figures closed in on him, sealing off every possible escape route. The weapons they carried shimmered with an eerie, otherworldly glow, and the cold intent to kill poured from their eyes like a tangible force.
"You fool! How dare you infiltrate our domain? Today will be the day you meet your end!" a hulking member of the Dark Order roared, brandishing a black war axe that radiated malice.
Solomon's expression grew grave. He knew all too well that he now stood at a crossroads between life and death. If he abandoned his mission to save himself, the Victoria family would surely fall into the abyss, and the entire continent of Glory would be doomed to eternal darkness. Yet, to fight to the death against these ruthless foes seemed a near-certain path to defeat. The odds were stacked against him, and failure would mean he would never see his loved ones again.
In this critical moment, the faces of his family and friends flashed through his mind like fleeting glimpses of a fading dream. Lianna's gentle smile stood out among them, as warm and reassuring as the sunlight on a spring morning.
"Solomon, no matter what happens, I believe in you. You will protect our family and safeguard this land," he seemed to hear Lianna's resolute voice whispering in his ear.
"My family's future, my promise to Lianna, and my duty to uphold peace on this continent—these are responsibilities I cannot forsake. Even if there's only the faintest hope, I will fight to the end for justice!" Solomon murmured to himself, a determined glint flashing in his eyes.
Without hesitation, he tightened his grip on his weapon, the embodiment of his strength and conviction. "Come on then! You vile creatures of darkness, I, Solomon, am not afraid of you!" he shouted, his voice echoing defiantly through the sinister encampment.
The battle erupted in an instant. Solomon threw himself into the fray, using every ounce of his skill and strength to hold his ground. His movements were swift and precise, like lightning darting through the ranks of his enemies. Each strike carried a surge of powerful energy, crashing against the enemy's defences like relentless waves upon a stormy shore.
"Take this!" Solomon roared, his weapon slashing through the air. A burst of energy erupted from the strike, sending several enemies flying backward.
"This one's tougher than he looks! Surround him! Don't let him escape!" shouted one of the cultists as the Dark Order's members pressed their attack with renewed frenzy.
Solomon utilised the terrain to his advantage, ducking behind large boulders to evade the concentrated strikes of his enemies and slipping through the ruins to exploit their weaknesses. He executed the techniques from the Sacred Law Codex with masterful precision, the energy within him surging like a raging torrent, transforming into devastating blows that forced back any foe who dared to approach.
Yet the enemy forces seemed endless, pouring in like an unrelenting tide. Their strength was formidable, and Solomon began to feel his stamina wane. Wounds started to appear on his body, blood seeping through his torn garments and staining them crimson.
"Ha! Let's see how much longer you can hold out!" one of the cultists sneered.
"I won't go down so easily!" Solomon gritted his teeth and fought on with unwavering determination. The resolve in his eyes burned so fiercely that even his enemies could not help but feel a flicker of unease.
Just as Solomon's strength was nearing its limits, a sudden and overwhelming surge of energy erupted from within him. The sacred battle aura that lay dormant in his core flared to life like a volcanic eruption, coursing through his body in an unstoppable wave of power.
"This… this is incredible!" Solomon thought, a spark of hope igniting within him as he felt his strength multiply severalfold.
His aura transformed, his entire being radiating an almost divine might. He stood now not as a mere warrior, but as a battle-hardened champion, a venerated war god descended to the mortal plane.
"You wretches of darkness, prepare to meet your end!" Solomon bellowed, charging back into the fray. His strikes became unstoppable, every blow carrying the weight of an earthquake. The cultists fell before him like leaves swept away by an autumn storm.
Amidst the chaos, Solomon's keen instincts discerned a fatal flaw in the Dark Order's strategy.
"So, this is your weakness. You rely too much on the power of dark magic, leaving yourselves vulnerable in close combat!" he thought, a plan forming in his mind.
But just as he began exploiting their flaw to devastating effect, reinforcements arrived. From every direction, waves of fresh, elite cultists surged into the encampment. These newcomers were clearly better trained and equipped, their cold, calculating eyes locking onto Solomon as they closed in with mechanical precision.
The tide of battle shifted once more. Surrounded by a fresh horde of enemies, Solomon found himself once again at the mercy of the Dark Order's relentless assault. How could he overcome this new onslaught? Could he break free of their encirclement and continue his mission? Or had the Dark Order laid even more sinister traps in wait? The answers remained shrouded in a veil of uncertainty, leaving Solomon's fate teetering on the edge of the unknown…