CHAPTER 1162: DEPLETING THE WELL (2).

When the glow faded, Cain was standing at the epicenter—barely. His body was broken, armor gone, blood hissing where it touched the molten ground.

The Archon was still there.

Its armor was cracked, glowing with leaking light, but its movements were still precise.

DAMAGE REGISTERED. THREAT LEVEL: CRITICAL. COUNTERMEASURES ENGAGED.

Its halo fragmented further, shards orbiting faster until they became a storm of light.

Nebula’s jaw tightened. "That’s not good."

Cain laughed bitterly, blood in his teeth. "No kidding."

The halo fragments launched outward in all directions, cutting through the landscape like razors.

Nebula and Cain moved as one.

Nebula’s few remaining blades shot forward, intercepting what they could, while Cain used their brief cover to close the distance again. He wasn’t thinking anymore—just reacting. Every instinct was survival, nothing more.

They moved like predators cornered in their own trap.

Cain drove his fist into the Archon’s torso again, cracking more of its plating. Nebula followed with a blade strike to the exposed joint, carving a deep gash. Sparks rained out.

The Archon grabbed Nebula by the throat and hurled him aside, then turned—just in time for Cain to smash his heel into its jaw, forcing its head sideways.

Another explosion. Another shockwave. The crater widened further, lava pouring from its edges.

But the Archon didn’t fall.

It stabilized midair, wings expanding to full span—each metallic feather glowing with nuclear heat.

RESTRAINT LIMITERS RELEASED. FULL PURGE AUTHORIZATION GRANTED.

Cain’s stomach dropped. "Oh, hell."

Nebula, bloodied but conscious, wiped his mouth. "I think we made it angry."

The Archon’s wings beat once.

The resulting blast flattened everything within sight—mountains in the distance fractured, molten rivers evaporated, and the sky itself burned.

The two of them barely survived—Cain diving behind a shattered ridge, Nebula using his remaining metal fragments to form a thin, flickering barrier that shattered on impact.

Both of them were on the brink.

Cain could barely see. Nebula’s right eye was gone, half his face burned raw.

And still, they looked at each other through the haze, neither willing to yield.

Cain’s voice came out like gravel. "We can’t kill it."

Nebula nodded slowly. "No. But maybe we can bury it."

They both looked up. The Archon hovered above, light building in its chest, preparing something catastrophic.

They didn’t have time.

Cain reached out, hand trembling. "One shot."

Nebula smirked faintly, blood trickling down his chin. "Then let’s make it count."

The ground around them began to melt again—two dying men forcing the last drops of their power into the same, collapsing battlefield.

Above them, the Archon’s light reached its peak—so bright it tore shadows from existence.

And then the world disappeared in gold and white.

There was no sound. Only the silence that follows when reality breaks.

The world hadn’t ended—yet.

The air was thick with ash and shimmering dust, the remnants of molten glass falling like rain. Where the crater once stood, there was only a vast pit of burning light and twisted rock. The Archon’s blast had carved through layers of the earth, leaving a wound that bled gold and smoke.

Cain crawled from the wreckage, fingers digging into broken stone slick with molten runoff. His body screamed. The circuitry that once pulsed gold along his arms now flickered erratically, barely keeping him conscious.

Every nerve felt raw. Every breath tore his chest apart.

Still, he forced himself up. "Still... not dead...?"

A groan came from nearby. Nebula. Half-buried under debris, armor melted to his flesh. He shoved the rock off himself with a sharp grunt, coughing violently as smoke poured from his lungs.

"Not yet," he rasped, his voice nearly gone. "But close enough."

Cain staggered over, the ground shifting beneath him like liquid. The light at the center of the crater pulsed again—slower this time, deeper.

The Archon was regenerating.

Its blackened armor was reforming, shards snapping back together in midair, liquid gold crawling along its limbs like veins of molten mercury.

Nebula watched it rise, disbelief in his bloodshot eyes. "How the hell do we fight that? It’s rebuilding itself from the ground up!"

Cain’s reply was dry, almost humorless. "Then we break the ground."

Nebula gave a hollow laugh. "Brilliant. Kill the planet to kill it. You’re really one of a kind, Cain."

Cain ignored him, eyes locked on the regenerating giant. His vision blurred in and out, but the lines of runes still burned behind his eyelids—patterns, sigils, conduits of power he could barely hold in his head without losing consciousness.

"I don’t need the planet," he muttered. "Just the Core beneath it."

Nebula’s eyes widened slightly. "You’re not serious."

Cain didn’t answer. He staggered closer to the edge, the molten air warping around him.

The Archon lifted its head, one eye blazing brighter than before.

RESTRUCTURING COMPLETE. TARGETS REACQUIRED.

Cain’s lip curled. "Welcome back."

The Archon’s halo reignited, spreading outward until it formed a rotating sphere of light. Energy surged down its arms—raw power that split the air like lightning, tearing open rifts that spat molten debris across the field.

Nebula raised both hands. His remaining metal shards spun wildly, dragging themselves into a single massive blade twice his height. It wasn’t elegant. It was jagged, desperate—a weapon born out of survival, not pride.

Cain’s voice was steady despite the blood pouring from his mouth. "You keep it busy."

Nebula frowned. "And what are you doing?"

"Ending this."

Nebula hesitated, then grinned through the pain. "Fine. Just don’t die before I do."

The Archon moved first—wings folding inward, body vanishing in a burst of light.

It reappeared midair, right above Nebula.

The impact was instantaneous. The shockwave split the ground like paper, molten rock spraying upward in geysers. Nebula barely managed to raise his blade in time; even then, the force drove him to his knees. Sparks exploded around him, the pressure alone threatening to crush him flat.

He screamed through clenched teeth, pushing back against the Archon’s weight.

Cain didn’t watch. He had already begun descending into the fissure forming beneath the crater.

Each step felt heavier than the last. The Core pulsed below, a living sun imprisoned within the planet’s crust. The closer he got, the louder it became—its rhythm syncing with his heartbeat until the two became indistinguishable.

The metallic light crawled up his arms again, brighter this time. His veins glowed gold. His bones hummed.

"Come on," he hissed through gritted teeth. "One last time."