Chapter 56: 56. The Outer-Divinity Descends III

The passage descended at a steep angle,the more they advanced the more the chanting grew louder with each step.

Owen led the way, then the passage opened abruptly into a massive chamber.

The ritual chamber was enormous, but the sheer pressure of it’s size paled in comparison to what occupied the chamber’s center.

A massive magical circle had been inscribed into the floor, its lines glowing with a purple light. At the circle’s edge stood the First Seat, his arms raised high and his voice carrying that terrible chanting.

And in the circle’s center, suspended three feet above the ground by invisible forces, floated the Dragon King’s egg.

It was magnificent.

The egg was perhaps four feet tall, its surface gleaming with black scales. Patterns of deeper gold traced across its surface in flowing designs, even from across the chamber, Owen could feel the presence within, dormant but immense.

Black miasma seeped from the magical circle’s runes, tendrils of darkness that reached toward the egg like fingers.

The First Seat’s chanting reached a crescendo, and his eyes which were completely black now, consumed by the same void that possessed the hollow men, turned toward the entrance where the hunters had emerged.

“Those damned females couldn’t do one job right!” he screamed, his voice layered with something inhuman. “But you’re too late! The Great One descends! The vessel will accept His essence—!”

He cut himself off mid-sentence, his expression shifting from a fanatical joy to cold look in an instant as he gestured one hand sharply, and the shadows in the chamber’s corners began to move.

Hollow men poured from side passages the hunters hadn’t noticed, dozens of them, maybe a hundred.

“Kill them!” the First Seat commanded. “Keep them from the circle! The ritual must not be interrupted!”

The hollow men surged forward.

Alfred planted his tower shield and became an immovable wall, hollow men breaking against it like waves against stone. Garrick’s Giant Komodo Earth-Dragon crashed into the horde from the side, its massive bulk creating space through sheer force. Seraphine’s Three-Headed Basilisk coiled through the combat zone, its petrifying gaze turning hollow men to stone.

Felicity’s arrows flew with a mechanical precision, each shot finding a vital target. Isaac joined Alfred in creating a defensive line, his recovered shield working in concert with the butler’s to form an impenetrable barrier.

Odessa, despite her injuries from the previous fight, directed her Azure Sky Dragon in sweeping attacks that scattered the hollow men’s ranks. Compressed Water Streams cut through multiple enemies, creating gaps the hunters could exploit.

But there were too many, their emergement felt infinite.

For every hollow man that fell, two more seemed to take its place. They poured from the side passages in endless waves, their corrupted bodies blocking any advance toward the ritual circle.

Yuki and Owen pushed forward together, carving a path through the horde.

Yuki’s dual katanas were a blur of motion, her swordsmanship making her movements look effortless despite the intense exertion. Her original blade parried grasping hands while Veridra’s venomous katana carved through corrupted flesh, the dragon-forged steel’s corrosive properties ensuring wounds wouldn’t close.

Uru had expanded from her head, forming multiple acidic tentacles that dissolved any hollow man that got too close. The primordial slime’s Regeneration meant it could extend itself recklessly, absorbing damage that would have been fatal to others.

Owen fought lethally, His claws tore through hollow men like paper, his tail sweeping groups off their feet, his wings buffeting attackers away when they got too close.

But even with their combined power, they were being pushed back by sheer numbers.

“There’s too many!” Felicity called out, loosing another arrow. “We can’t reach the circle!”

Owen’s eyes fixed on the egg, still suspended above the ritual circle with the black miasma growing thicker around it.

They were running out of time.

“I’m going through!” Owen announced.

“Owen, wait—” Yuki started, but he was already moving.

He activated Momentum Shift and Dragon’s Aura simultaneously. The S-rank acceleration skill combined with the SS-rank pressure wave created a devastating combination, his forward momentum enhanced while the pressure radiating from his body threw hollow men aside like leaves.

He crashed through the horde like a battering ram, his Indestructible Scales absorbing the impacts of grasping hands and corrupted weapons. Hollow men tried to grab him, to drag him down through the weight of numbers, but his enhanced momentum let him power through.

Twenty feet from the circle. Fifteen. Ten.

The First Seat’s chanting never faltered, but his black eyes tracked Owen’s approach. He gestured one hand again and the floor between Owen and the circle suddenly liquefied, The ground became a writhing mass of tentacles, reaching appendages that grabbed at Owen’s legs and tried to pull him down.

Shadow manipulation?. The First Seat’s ability, the power to give physical form to the darkness generated by shadows, but there was something else within this ability, something that sucked away as Owen.

Owen felt his mana being siphoned away where the tentacles made contact, his strength was now waning as the constructs fed on his mana.

He roared and released Dragon’s Breath, using the flames to incinerate the tentacles immediately in front of him. But more sprouted to replace them, the First Seat’s power seemingly endless within this Shadowy chamber.

Owen was five feet from the circle now, But it might as well have been five miles.

“Yuki!” Owen called out through their mental bond. “I need support!”

Yuki was already moving, having fought her way to within twenty feet of Owen’s position. She activated Gust, the C-rank wind spell creating a focused blast that propelled her forward in a burst of speed.

But more shadow tentacles erupted from the ground, forming a barrier between her and Owen.

She cut through them with both katanas, Veridra’s venom corroding the constructs faster than normal steel could. But they regenerated almost as fast as she destroyed them.

“Uru!”

The primordial slime understood. It launched itself from Yuki’s head, expanding mid-flight into a massive blob of acidic gelatin. Uru crashed into the barrier of the shadow tentacles, secreting corrosive substances at maximum output.

The constructs began to dissolve, creating an opening.

Then Owen pushed through, his claws extended, reaching for the egg—

The First Seat’s other hand gestured, and a massive shadow construct manifested directly in Owen’s path. It took the form of a giant serpent.

The serpent struck.

Owen barely dodged, the shadow-snake’s fangs passing inches from his throat. Where its body touched his scales, mana got siphoned.

His Indestructible Scales held against the physical damage, but the metaphysical assault was harder to resist.

The serpent coiled around him, constricting, trying to crush and drain him simultaneously.

Owen’s mana reserves were dropping rapidly. The restriction field already limited him to half power, and now the shadow construct was actively feeding on what remained.

He had maybe a minute before he would be too weak to fight.

He activated Sovereignty of Space-Time.

Time didn’t slow enough. The restriction field fought against the skill, limiting its effectiveness to barely perceptible dilations in the flow of moments.

But it was enough.

Owen twisted within the serpent’s coils, his enhanced perception letting him find the gap in its grip. He slipped through, his smaller humanoid form allowing a maneuverability his full dragon size wouldn’t have permitted.

Free of the serpent, he lunged forward with everything he had left.

His clawed hand stretched out, fingers extended, reaching for the egg still suspended above the ritual circle—

And then he made contact.

His fingers wrapped around the golden surface, and Owen yanked the egg from its position with all his remaining strength.

The effect was immediate and catastrophic.

The ritual circle’s purple light flared to a blinding intensity, then shattered like glass. The magical formations that had been carefully maintained through the First Seat’s chanting got destabilized instantly as their purpose was now disrupted by the removal of the vessel they had been designed to fill.

The black miasma that had been seeping from the circle suddenly had nowhere to go.

It erupted outward in an explosion of dark energy, washing over the chamber in a wave of corruption that made everyone stagger. The hollow men collapsed en masse, their animating force severed. The hunters dropped to their knees, struggling against the psychic pressure.

And the First Seat screamed.

The black miasma swirled through the air like a living thing, drawn to the one who had summoned it.

It flowed into the First Seat’s body through every orifice—mouth, nose, eyes, ears—until his entire form was filled with corruption.

His body changed. Expanded. His robes tore as his frame grew from six feet to eight, then ten, then twelve. His skin darkened to the color of a starless void. His eyes blazed with a purple fire. Four additional arms erupted from his torso, each one ending in claws that dripped with reality-warping darkness.

When he spoke, his voice was layered with countless others, a chorus of the different tones.

“FOOLISH MORTALS!” The First Seat’s voice shook the chamber, stone cracking from the sonic pressure alone. “YOU THOUGHT TO DENY THE GREAT ONE HIS VESSEL? INSTEAD, I SHALL BECOME HIS AVATAR! I AM HIS POWER QUADRUPLED! I AM HIS ENTROPY GIVEN FORM! I AM—”

A shadow lance materialized in one of his six hands, the weapon appearing from nothingness. He hurled it at Owen with force that would have pulverized mountains.

Owen brought the Dragon King’s egg close to his chest protectively and tried to dodge, but his mana reserves were too depleted, his body too exhausted.

The void lance caught him in the shoulder, and the painful exploded in him unlike anything he had experienced. Not physical pain, but metaphysical pain. The sensation of his existence feeling like it was being corroded.

He crashed into the chamber wall hard enough to create a crater, still clutching the egg, blood pouring from the wound where dark energy fought against his Indestructible Scales.

The First Seat stalked toward him, all six arms manifesting shadow weapons—lances, swords, axes.

“YOU WILL DIE SLOWLY,” the First Seat promised as his transformed face twisted into a smile of malevolent joy. “I WILL UNMAKE YOU PIECE BY PIECE, DRAGON WHELP. AND THEN I WILL CONSUME YOUR COMPANIONS. AND THEN—”

Then Something fell from his tattered coat pocket.

The Prison Realm cube clattered across the stone floor, and a voice echoed from within.

“BOY!” Dominus roared, his consciousness focused entirely on the young dragon. “THE CUBE! DESTROY IT! NOW!”

The First Seat’s six eyes widened in horror. “NO! DON’T YOU DARE—”

Owen didn’t hesitate.

He had barely any mana left. His body was failing, the wound spreading corruption through his shoulder. But he had enough for one more activation.

Sovereignty of Space-Time.

Time slowed to a halt For exactly one second.

He released the egg carefully, letting it rest on the ground. Then he lunged for the Prison Realm cube, his clawed hand closing around its crystalline surface.

Then he squeezed with everything he had in him.

The Prison Realm cube shattered.

Then time resumed.

The pocket dimension that had existed within the cube collapsed, spilling its contents into the physical world. Energy erupted outward in a nova of golden light that washed away the purple corruption, that pushed back the black miasma, that made the First Seat stagger backward with his arms raised against the brilliance.

And in the center of that light, a figure materialized.

Dominus.

The Dragon King stood seven feet tall in his half-dragon transformation. His face was noble, with sharp features that suggested both wisdom and ferocity. His eyes burned with power, golden like Owen’s but impossibly deeper, containing eons of accumulated knowledge and strength.

He wore robes of deep red and gold, A crown rested on his head, its design simple but regal.

Four massive wings extended from his back.

Dominus looked first at Owen, his golden eyes meeting the young dragon’s for a moment.

Then the Dragon King turned to face the First Seat, and his expression became cold as the void between stars.

Then Dominus spoke, with his voice carrying an absolute authority about it.

“I told you your end was near”

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