CHAPTER 179: IMMOLATION

But his attacks met the same fate as before, bouncing harmlessly off the shimmering veil of [Fractured Existence].

I tightened my hold around his throat, feeling the violent pulse of his energy struggling against mine. Then, without breaking eye contact, I channeled power into my palm.

The air shimmered as [Inferno Lance] came to life, flames spiraling outward in a coiled surge of heat and pressure.

The fire caught instantly, blooming across my hand in a fierce crimson glow. Vorn barely had time to scream before the heat consumed him. The flames erupted from my palm, devouring flesh and bone in a blinding flash. His head burst apart in a spray of embers and ash, his body collapsing to the ground with a dull thud.

Smoke curled upward, carrying the scent of scorched flesh. The fire in my hand hadn’t faded—it continued to twist and gather, condensing into the shape of a blazing lance that burned hotter with each passing second.

I turned to face the others, my voice calm but edged with contempt.

"There’s more to me than just teleportation, Fools."

None of them moved.

I tilted my head slightly, my tone dropping to a dangerous calm. "What’s wrong? Didn’t Amon tell you that part?"

"Bastard!"

Hissra hissed, his voice sharp enough to cut through the rising tension.

The air around him shimmered, heat distorting his outline as flames began to crawl along the haft of his spear.

The others followed suit, their movements tightening as mana surged around them—shadows shifting, poison mist coiling, the hum of a drawn bowstring trembling faintly in the air.

They were all preparing to strike.

Meanwhile, I didn’t move. My focus wasn’t on them but on the faint blue window flickering before my eyes—the notification that had appeared the instant Vorn’s body hit the ground.

Ding!

[You have killed a Drugar’s Chosen.]

[You have leveled up.]

[All base stats +1.]

[You have gained +3 free stat points.]

[You have received 500 Skill Advancement Points.]

[You have inherited all of the Chosen’s learned skills.]

[You have inherited the Chosen’s kill count.]

Alright. I pumped an invisible fist, a small grin tugging at the corner of my mouth.

Receiving new skills was always a good thing. The more, the better—it was free growth, no complaints there. But when I glanced at the inherited skill list, one in particular stood out:

[Pain Rush].

Yeah, no. That one could stay buried.

Inflicting pain on myself just to get stronger? No, thanks. I wasn’t that desperate. The idea alone made my skin crawl. What kind of lunatic willingly carved themselves open just to gain an edge? Sure, Vorn had made it look dramatic, but I wasn’t about to turn into a walking collection of scars for power.

I let out a small breath, half amused. "Scar Demon," I muttered under my breath. "Even if it sounds cool, it’s not worth the look."

"Damn you!" Hissra’s voice cut through my thoughts. His entire body shimmered, heat radiating off him in waves as embers began to rise from his armor. His glare burned hotter than his flames. "Do you realize what you’ve done?!"

I met his fury with a calm stare. "Eliminated one of you," I said simply.

His expression twisted, anger spilling over into something almost feral. "Eliminated? You fool—he’ll never return!"

"Good," I said, nodding once, my tone calm, almost casual. "That’s exactly why I destroyed your graveyard first."

"Damn you!" Hissra bellowed, his voice raw with fury. His teeth clenched as he raised his arm, flames spiraling around it like a living serpent. The heat radiating from him distorted the air, and then—without hesitation—he thrust his hand forward.

WHOOSH!

A torrent of fire erupted from his palm, roaring through the clearing like a released inferno. It tore through the ground, devouring everything in its path until it crashed into me, engulfing my body in a sphere of searing heat.

The force of it shook the earth beneath my feet, scattering ash and molten dirt in every direction.

He didn’t stop there. More flames followed—layer upon layer—each one hotter, brighter, angrier than the last. The world turned white-orange for a moment, the temperature spiking so high that even the trees at the edge of the barrier began to wilt and crackle.

And then, finally, the assault ceased.

The flames receded, the air hissing as embers drifted down like dying stars. Smoke rolled outward, thick and suffocating, shrouding the area in a gray haze. For several seconds, no one spoke. Even the other Chosen watched in silence, waiting to see what would remain once the fire cleared.

I stepped forward slowly, brushing a layer of soot from my shoulder.

And when the smoke finally cleared and they saw that I was left completely unscathed, disbelief flashed across their faces—quickly replaced by fury.

Then, all at once, they moved.

I didn’t wait for them to coordinate.

My arm snapped forward, and an Inferno Lance

shot from my hand, tearing through the air like a meteor. It streaked toward Hissra, the flames shrieking as they cut through the space between us. He barely managed to raise his spear before it hit, the explosion lighting up the clearing and scattering shards of molten earth in every direction.

I was already moving before the blast faded. My focus locked onto the next target—Nira.

She was quick, lighter on her feet than the rest, her movements fluid and silent. I closed the distance fast, Gravefang drawn and angled for a clean strike. But just as I swung, her form shimmered—and vanished.

"The hell..." I muttered, halting my momentum as my blade sliced through empty air.

A flicker of instinct made me drop low a second before two blazing streaks cut across my peripheral vision. Arrows.

I twisted to the side and leapt back, barely avoiding them.

The shafts burned with a dull crimson hue, slicing through the air with unnatural precision.

My eyes darted upward—Gork, the archer, was perched on a high branch, bow drawn, his next arrow already nocked and glowing hotter than the last.

The first pair of arrows didn’t simply miss—they followed. Their trajectory bent mid-flight, homing toward me like guided fire. I clenched my teeth, pushed off the ground, and rolled back as they streaked past.

They didn’t stop.

The moment they hit the earth, the ground erupted.

BOOM!

BOOM!

Two violent bursts of flame and dirt tore through the clearing, the shockwave slamming into my chest and forcing me backward.

But after a few steps forward, something suddenly clamped around my ankles, yanking me to a halt with brutal force.

I frowned and tried to move, but my legs wouldn’t budge. The pull was solid—unyielding. I glanced down and saw what held me, and for a split second, my mind blanked.

The ground itself had risen to grip me. Literal hands of compacted earth, molded from the dirt beneath my feet, were wrapped tightly around my boots, their grip solid enough to dig into the leather.

"The fuck..." I muttered, irritation bleeding into my voice.

Before I could react, a guttural voice rasped above me.

"Die..."

I looked up just in time to see...