NOVEL NEXT Chapter 31: The Bloodstained Vision
Somewhere at the edge of the Sixth Heaven lies the realm of the God of Astronomy and Foresight, a domain where stars are born and their fates are overseen. It is a realm perpetually cloaked in the velvet darkness of eternal night, its sky a tapestry of countless twinkling stars, each of different sizes and colors, with only the narrowest of spaces separating them. Dark clouds drift beneath this glittering expanse, like restless shadows shifting and swirling, momentarily obscuring and then unveiling the shimmering lights.
Beneath this celestial canopy lies a sprawling complex of mechanized buildings, each designed for the meticulous observation and recording of the stars' enigmatic behaviors. On top of one of these buildings, two celestial watchers stood vigilant, their telescopes trained on the heavens, their eyes intent on deciphering the language of the stars.
As they gazed, the tranquil darkness was shattered. The night sky rippled with circular waves, each undulating outward like rings on a still pond disrupted by a single drop of water. This phenomenon repeated thrice, mirroring the three times Nyxander released lightning from his body in the ancestral world, its force transcending realms. The sky seemed to groan under the strain, threatening to spill its secrets and collapse under an invisible weight. The stars dimmed, their brilliance muted, as though robbed of their joy, casting an unsettling gloom over the watchers.
A chill descended upon the two celestial men, their breaths caught in their throats. "Wha..." one began, his voice barely a whisper, before an unseen force hurled them backward as though by an invisible, merciless hand. Struggling to regain their footing, they exchanged panicked glances, their faces pale, drenched with sweat that clung to them like a second skin.
Their trembling bodies betrayed the fear that gripped their hearts, as if they had glimpsed the shadow of an inevitable doom. Their minds, momentarily blank with terror, finally sparked with purpose. "Let us inform the Lord!" they exclaimed in unison, their voices tinged with desperation as they dashed toward the God of Astronomy and Foresight's research room like sprinters chasing salvation.
Meanwhile, in the research room, a vast chamber lined with towering cabinets, ancient records and discoveries lay meticulously stored within countless cells. At the farthest edge of the room stood a table cluttered with star maps, astronomical dictionaries, and the tools of a scholar's trade. Behind the table, a man with the dignified air of a leader in his forties sat in quiet contemplation. Dressed in a pristine white garment, his long black hair fell in elegant waves as he browsed an ancient book, the weight of its history evident in every page.
The two celestial men burst into the room, stumbling between the meticulously arranged cabinets. He raised his head, his calm eyes observing their disheveled state. "I don't think I've ever seen you both act like this. I hope nothing is amiss," he inquired, his voice steady, though his furrowed brows betrayed his concern.
The men gasped for breath, their words tangled and broken as they fought to explain. Finally, after piecing together their message, the God of Astronomy and Foresight understood. "So you mean the sky behaved as though it's about to lose its very foundation and collapse entirely?" he repeated, his voice laced with disbelief. His brows knitted tighter as he fell into deep thought. The two men glanced sharply at each other and gave him a nod.
Counting the phalanges of his right hand with his thumb, he began to chant softly, his voice like a murmur carried on the wind. His subordinates watched him intently, their gazes flickering between each other in shared curiosity, eager for their lord's answer. Moments later, his vision plunged into a swirling void, as though his consciousness traveled to a distant and unknowable place.
An indistinct image began to form before him, a silhouette teetering on the edge of clarity. Yet before he could fully grasp it, his mind was violently snapped back, his body recoiling as he coughed up blood. "Kuff, kuff," he sputtered, crimson splattering across the sacred texts on the table.
The two men darted to his side, their faces etched with alarm. One steadied his right shoulder. "Master, are you okay?" he asked, his voice tight with worry. The other supported his left side. "Should we tend to your injuries?" he added, his tone urgent.
The God of Astronomy and Foresight raised a trembling hand to silence them. "There's no need to be alarmed. It's not as severe as it seems," he said, his once commanding voice now fragile and fragmented. "Prepare my coach. I must report this to the Heavenly God."
Exchanging a brief glance, his subordinates nodded and hurried to carry out his command, their footsteps echoing like distant thunder in the vast, silent chamber.
Back to the primordial world, inside the pit located within, Nyxander stood adorned in his new living fabric battle suit, shimmering with streaks of lightning that danced over his form like restless fireflies. His eyes, once a stormy blaze, gradually dimmed, revealing his serene sky-blue pupils. Yet, a faint, otherworldly change took root, a thin purple thread, delicate as spider silk, traced itself through his pupils in the shape of a crystal so fine it was nearly invisible, a secret whisper of his newfound power.
He began to look around, his gaze piercing the fabric of space surrounding him. It rippled and swayed like a thick, transparent liquid, its surface shimmering as though the air itself had melted into a dense, otherworldly substance. Each step he took was like a deliberate push through an unseen ocean, the cohesive force parting before him yet clinging softly to his presence, resisting without restraint. As he walked, none of the strange fluid stuck to him; it hovered, quivering, before gently retreating as though acknowledging its master.
Nyxander stretched out his hand, cupping a portion of the spatial fluid as though catching fragile bubbles. It pooled in his palms, shifting and sparkling, its texture like liquid glass brimming with boundless energy.
A strange, almost reverent sensation surged through him, the feeling of manipulating the infinite, of bending the void itself to his will. Though his skill was far from mastery, the echoes of his babyhood escapades, where he had once sneaked into the battle arena, now filled his mind. Those early moments of playful defiance had granted him an inkling of void bending, enlightening him to a power he could barely comprehend.
He stood captivated by the swirling bubbles in his hands when the air trembled with sudden hostility. One of the primordial rhinos, a beast of unyielding might, launched a searing attack. A beam of light, sharp and blinding, tore through the void like a thunderbolt splitting the heavens. Nyxander felt it before he saw it, the trembling of the void in front of him, rippling with the force of the incoming strike.
As the attack neared, his instincts roared to life. "Aetherial Shroud Manipulation: Void Blade!" he shouted, his voice reverberating through the thick space around him like a war drum. The liquid void in his hands trembled, then transformed with startling precision, freezing into twin blades of transparency, glinting like ice under moonlight.
With a fluid motion, he bent the void blade in his right hand, absorbing the incoming beam as if it were a mere stream of water captured by an unyielding dam. The blade shimmered, pulsating as it drank the light. In the same breath, he pointed the void blade in his left hand toward the rhinoceros, his voice sharp and commanding as he released the energy.
The beam erupted back, magnified in its intensity, cutting through the void like a celestial arrow. It struck the primordial beast with unerring precision, piercing its head and bursting out through its body with such force that it cleaved through to its very core. The rhino's colossal form trembled, the force of the blow rippling through the arena as it fell, lifeless, to the ground.
The other four rhinoceroses, enraged and unyielding, immediately took their stances to attack. But their efforts were in vain. Nyxander charged forward, a blur of motion, closing the gap in an instant. With a single swing, he cleaved through the skull of the nearest rhinoceros, slicing it open without resistance. Blood sprayed like a crimson fountain, a grim testament to his power.
Witnessing his ability to absorb and retaliate with their attacks, the remaining three beasts abandoned their long-range strategies. Their primal intelligence betrayed them as they opted for a head-on assault, charging in unison,one in front and two from either side. Their combined momentum was a sight to behold, a tidal wave of fury aimed at annihilating him in one strike.
But Nyxander, ever the tactician, leaped into the air with a grace that defied his mortal frame. The three rhinoceroses crashed into one another beneath him, their confusion evident in their thunderous bellows. He landed smoothly behind the one across from him, driving his blade deep into its rump, the weapon sinking into its flesh like a vengeful specter.
The beast writhed, its massive body quaking as internal damage ravaged it from within. As it resisted the pull of death, Nyxander wrenched the blade free, the sound of tearing flesh echoing like a grim symphony.
Before he could regain his stance, the rhinoceros on his right charged with blinding speed. Nyxander noticed the attack a moment too late, raising his right arm to block. The impact sent him skidding backward, his right-hand void blade flipping high into the air, spinning like a falling star. The beast saw an opening and seized it, unleashing a thunderbolt from its horn with terrifying precision.
Nyxander, seemingly vulnerable, had already devised a plan. He absorbed the incoming thunderbolt with the void blade in his left hand, the weapon vibrating with contained power. Then, with a swift and calculated strike, he released the energy into the rhinoceros on his left, the impact carving through the creature with devastating finality. It collapsed with a heavy groan, leaving only the one that had unleashed the thunderbolt standing.
Nyxander sprinted to his left, leaping into the air with catlike agility, his eyes locked on the void blade still spinning above. Catching it mid-flight, he landed with a predatory grace. Both warrior and beast stood still, their gazes locking—a silent exchange of determination and raw power. The air between them thickened, brimming with the unspoken promise of the final clash.