Chapter 44: Tragedies and Reinforcements
The battlefield still reeled from the apocalyptic clash of sword and claw.
Dust and blood swirled together in the broken winds, choking the lungs of every cultivator still alive. The Bright Blade Sect trembled on its last legs, walls fractured, barriers shattered, and the cries of the dying echoing across every courtyard.
The Fourth Sword's brilliance had faded.
The Sect Leader, who once stood like an unshakable pillar, now staggered beneath the weight of his own power. The Execution Formation was never meant to last forever. Its borrowed strength devoured his flesh, its divine radiance burning him hollow from the inside. His every breath was a rattle, every step a refusal to kneel.
Opposite him, the Mortal Shedding Demonic Beast straightened to its full height, monstrous grin cutting across its scaled face. Crimson eyes glowed with amusement as it pressed forward, savoring the sight of a legend unraveling.
Each clash rang louder than thunder, shaking the ruined sect grounds. Every strike drew more blood from the Sect Leader, his robes torn, bones groaning like breaking trees in a storm. Yet even as his body crumbled, his sword still sang, biting deep into the beast's hide.
It was not enough.
The Demonic Beast chuckled low, a predator playing with its prey. "Crumbling already, human? I expected more from your kind."
Far across the battlefield, tragedy drowned the sect.
The proud courtyards had become graveyards. Statues lay toppled in rubble. Broken disciples bled out against shattered tiles.
Amid the carnage, Elton Solman fought like a drowning man thrashing against the tide. His Silver Tier 3 aura blazed, yet his body screamed with every motion. Wounds burned along his arms, blood soaked his clothes, and each breath was an agony that clawed at his ribs. Still, he moved. Still, he swung. Stopping meant death.
Around him, brothers and sisters fell one by one. Each scream lodged itself into his chest. Memories crashed down like waves—
The Great Brawlmanica Sect-Kingdom War.
Ash choked skies, the cries of innocents buried under the Fighting Brawlman Sect's slaughter. Elton as a child, drenched in blood, standing alone in a world already emptied of family.
The Stone Forest.
Christy's eyes blazing as she fought, nearly torn apart by a Gold Tier beast's claw. Her hand stretched toward him—then ripped away by teleportation light. His hand never reached hers.
The guilt suffocated him, dragging him deeper than any wound.
"Stand up, you damned fool," his inner voice snarled, its tone sharp, merciless. "Do you want to rot here? Forgotten, nameless, trampled into mud?"
Elton's teeth clenched. Rage and shame collided. With a roar, he forced his battered body upright, aura igniting with reckless defiance. Something cracked inside him—like chains snapping.
Power surged. Silver Tier 4 essence exploded through his veins like a storm breaking its dam. His sword blurred faster, his strikes crushed harder. The battlefield sharpened. Pain dulled. His fury carried him forward.
Yet even with newfound strength, death did not stop. Bodies still piled. Beasts still pressed. The tide did not care about breakthroughs.
Nearby, his companions fought their own wars.
Zoro Tatsumaki, the black shadow, carved with dual katanas, every strike lethal. Ramiro, wielding a fallen comrade's Gold Star Rank spear, tore through enemies with savage precision, each blow like thunder. The twins Kuroha and Kageha bled but refused to yield, weaving formations that ripped beasts apart even as their knees buckled.
Cedric and several nobles had retreated deeper into the sect grounds, their blades wet, their eyes grim. Survival outweighed valor.
The Soloman family carved their way out, dragging Erica with them, their path carved in both protection and arrogance. She struggled against their will, fury in her eyes, but they shielded her from the bloodbath.
The world had become steel, blood, and silence. No gods answered. Only death.
Then the heavens screamed.
A colossal boom ripped through the skies as the Sect Leader's body came crashing across the battlefield. He tumbled like a broken comet, trailing blood and shattered pride, before slamming into the earth with crushing force. Stone fractured into a jagged pit. His sword quivered as he tried to rise, body trembling with stubborn defiance.
The Mortal Shedding Beast stalked forward, grin stretched wide. "One by one… you'll all fall. This sect, the others, even those fools at the Bright Brilliant Blade Sect—you'll all be wiped from history. Our Demonic Beast Kingdom, under the Rackshalla Clan, will rise from your corpses."
The Sect Leader coughed blood, yet still raised his trembling blade. Still dared to defy.
The beast laughed, raising its claw for the killing blow.
Then—
The sky split apart.
Two battleships erupted from the clouds, runic hulls gleaming like divine metal. A swarm of smaller ships and war banners followed in their wake. The banners snapped in violent winds—symbols of sect power recognized by every disciple below.
The Demonic Beast froze. Its grin faltered. Its nostrils flared in sudden unease.
Across the battlefield, survivors lifted their eyes. Elton, Zoro, Ramiro, Erica—all turned upward, hope flooding into faces etched with exhaustion and despair. Some disciples collapsed to their knees. Others gripped their weapons tighter.
For the first time in what felt like eternity, they truly believed survival was possible.
Reinforcements had arrived.
Thunder shook the world as cannons from the battleships fired, streaking light across the skies. Explosions churned the earth into molten craters, annihilating scores of beasts. The ground shook as if heaven itself had joined the war.
Fear spread among the demonic horde. Beasts shrieked and scattered before the bombardment.
On the broken ground, the Sect Leader staggered, his body barely holding. Blood dripped from his lips, but his sword refused to lower.
Then—two titanic auras crashed down.
Two figures descended from the ships, cloaked in brilliance, their pressure so fierce that countless cultivators dropped to their knees. One bore the insignia of the Bright Brilliant Blade Sect. With a flick of his finger, he unleashed a razor-thin line of sword Ki that slashed into the beast's shoulder, hurling it back with a roar of fury.
Gasps filled the sect. The Bright Blade Sect disciples wept with relief.
Banners unfurled above the battlefield:
Bright Brilliant Blade Sect.
Fighting Brawlman Sect.
Over two thousand elite disciples poured into the warzone, their robes gleaming, their formations sharp. Sword light, elemental arts, and crushing waves of aura ripped into the beast tide like a storm without mercy.
The Mortal Shedding Beast sneered, blood dripping from its wound. "You think this changes anything?" it snarled.
The Bright Brilliant Blade disciple said nothing. His gaze was cold as winter.
The Fighting Brawlman disciple cracked his neck, disdain in every word: "No need for chatter. Kill the beast."
They attacked together, sword Ki tearing the heavens, brute force shattering the ground. Their combined assault forced the beast backward, savage wounds opening across its scaled hide. With an unwilling roar, it finally broke free, fleeing into the wilderness in a storm of broken earth and smoke.
Among the rubble, Elton and his squad watched as a familiar figure descended.
Prince Hunter.
His silver-trimmed robe bore the crest of the Bright Brilliant Blade Sect. His aura radiated pure might—Gold Tier 1, brushing against Gold Tier 2. His presence bent the air itself.
Without hesitation, he drew his Burning Royal Long Sword and charged, his strikes blazing like fire across the field. In a single fluid motion, he skewered a retreating Gold Tier 2 beast through its eye, killing it instantly.
The battlefield erupted in cheers. Disciples surged forward, their morale reignited, their blades cutting with renewed fury.
Above it all, more Mortal Shedding Realm cultivators descended from the ships, their divine senses sweeping miles of land, their slaughter effortless. The Bright Brilliant Blade experts scowled, anger burning at the destruction. The Fighting Brawlman experts remained cold and detached, judging all as inevitable.
None noticed the faint stirring, hidden deep among the ruins several miles away.
And as blood and hope mingled in the ashes of war, the battle was far from over.