Chapter : 557

One set of chains shot upwards, forming a dense, domed canopy above his head, a shield of pure, solid steel. Fang Fairy’s brilliant web of lightning slammed into it. And grounded. The thousands of volts of azure energy, which would have flash-fried any other opponent, simply dissipated, absorbed and neutralized by the sheer, overwhelming mass and conductivity of Roy’s manifested steel. The lightning cage, so potent, so inescapable, shattered into a shower of harmless, fading sparks against the unmovable object of the Arch Duke’s defense.

Simultaneously, another, even more massive, wall of chains erupted from the ground before him, a solid, impenetrable barrier of dark, interlocking steel. Iffrit’s colossal, flame-wreathed greatsword, the weapon of annihilation, the scythe of the sun, slammed into it.

The impact was a cataclysm. A deafening, world-shaking KRA-KOOM that was not a sound, but a physical, concussive event that shook the very foundations of the training ground. A wave of pure, white-hot force erupted from the point of impact, superheating the air, sending a shower of molten steel and incandescent sparks flying in every direction. The stone floor beneath the two clashing forces vaporized, turning to glass, then to dust.

The flaming blade, which could have cleaved a mountain, was stopped. Its roaring, chaotic inferno splashed against the unyielding wall of chains, the flames parting, flowing around the unbreakable defense like water around a granite cliff. The sheer, overwhelming force of the blow was absorbed, dissipated, by the sheer, overwhelming mass of Roy’s power.

The attack, the perfect, inescapable, two-pronged assault, had been neutralized. Effortlessly. Almost contemptuously. With a single, defensive gesture.

Iffrit roared, a silent, spiritual sound of pure, frustrated fury, and brought his massive sword back for another strike. Fang Fairy, her initial attack thwarted, was already moving, a silver-and-azure blur, preparing a new, more focused, lightning assault.

But Lloyd watched, a cold, hard knot of profound, humbling awe forming in his stomach. He had unleashed two Transcended spirits, two gods of elemental destruction. And his father… his father had not even taken a single step back.

This was the true, terrifying, unbridgeable gulf. Not just of power, but of mastery. Lloyd was a boy, playing with a hurricane and a volcano. Roy Ferrum was the mountain. The ancient, unyielding, and utterly, comprehensively, immovable mountain. And the mountain had not yet even begun to fight back. The lesson, Lloyd realized with a chilling certainty, was far, far from over.

The training ground had become an arena fit for gods. The air was a chaotic, violent soup of elemental energies, a constant war between the crisp, sharp scent of ozone from Fang Fairy’s lightning, the dry, searing heat of Iffrit’s inferno, and the cold, metallic tang of Roy’s absolute, unyielding steel. The ground was a shattered, molten ruin, a testament to the colossal forces being unleashed.

Lloyd stood at the heart of it all, a conductor orchestrating a symphony of beautiful, terrifying, and thus far, utterly ineffective, destruction. His initial, overwhelming two-pronged assault had been neutralized with a casual, almost contemptuous, ease that had been both humbling and deeply, profoundly, infuriating. His father had not just defended; he had made a statement. Your power is immense, yes. But my mastery is absolute.

But the Major General within him did not know how to quit. Defeat was not an option. A stalemate was merely a tactical problem to be solved. His father had shown his defense. A fortress of steel. Immovable. Impenetrable. A frontal assault was a fool’s errand. Therefore, the strategy had to change. He couldn't break the mountain. So, he would have to erode it. He would have to dance around it, harry its flanks, and wait for a single, fractional crack in its perfect, unyielding defense.

New pattern, his mental command was a sharp, clear signal to his two spirits, a commander adapting his strategy in the heat of battle. No more combined, direct assaults. Fang Fairy, you are harassment. Speed is your only weapon. Do not engage directly. I want you to be a ghost, a gnat, a constant, irritating, lightning-fast distraction. Force him to divide his attention. Iffrit, you are the siege engine. No more single, overwhelming blows. I want sustained, suppressive fire. A barrage. A relentless, unending storm of flame. Do not give him a moment to rest, a moment to think. Overwhelm his defenses through sheer, ceaseless volume. I will coordinate, I will look for the opening. Now. Engage!

The dance began.

Chapter : 558

Fang Fairy became a living thunderbolt, a streak of pure, azure light that was almost impossible to track with the naked eye. She did not try to penetrate Roy’s steel fortress again. Instead, she moved in a wide, disorienting, and utterly unpredictable circle around him. She unleashed a constant, harassing barrage of her smaller, more energy-efficient Lightning Darts. They were not designed to break his defenses, but to test them, to force him to react.

Zzz-T! A shimmering dart of solidified lightning would shoot from her hand, aimed at his exposed left flank. A section of Roy’s chain-wall would instantly, almost preternaturally, shift, a dozen thick, dark steel links flowing like liquid metal to intercept the dart, which would shatter against them in a harmless shower of sparks.

Zzz-T! Before the first attack had even fully dissipated, another dart would lance in from the right, aimed at his head. Another section of the wall would rise to meet it, a silent, perfect, and utterly unflappable defense.

She was a ghost, a phantom, her speed a constant, harassing presence, forcing Roy to perpetually adjust, to shift his defenses, to divide his focus between the ground and the air, between his left and his right. It was a beautiful, elegant display of speed and precision, a masterclass in tactical harassment.

And while Fang Fairy was the distraction, the irritating, stinging gnat, Iffrit was the sledgehammer. The relentless, roaring, unstoppable sledgehammer.

The nine-foot-tall demon of magma and fire planted its massive, smoking feet, its grip on the colossal, flame-wreathed zanbatō shifting. And then, he began to swing. Not the single, overhead cleaves of before. But a relentless, side-to-side barrage, a storm of arcing, fiery death.

FWOOSH! The massive, flaming blade would scythe through the air, leaving a trail of superheated, shimmering reality in its wake, and slam into Roy’s defensive wall of chains. The impact was a deafening, concussive BOOM, a shower of sparks and molten metal. The chains would hold, absorbing the immense kinetic and thermal energy.

FWOOSH! Before the echoes of the first blow had even faded, the blade would swing back from the other direction, another roaring arc of fire, another cataclysmic impact.

Again, and again, and again. It was a relentless, brutal, and utterly, comprehensively, overwhelming barrage. The training ground became a forge from hell, the constant, rhythmic BOOM-BOOM-BOOM of Iffrit’s blows a deafening, terrifying percussion, the air filled with the shriek of stressed metal and the roar of untamed fire.

Lloyd watched, his mind stretched taut, a puppeteer controlling two gods of war. He was the nexus, the command center, coordinating their attacks, his will the thread that wove their disparate powers into a single, cohesive strategy. He felt the drain, the constant, immense expenditure of his unified power core, a river of energy flowing out of him to fuel the storm and the inferno. It was exhausting, a monumental effort of will and endurance.

But it was working. Or at least, it was having an effect.

He saw his father, for the first time, begin to… work. Roy was no longer the still, immovable mountain. He was an active defender, his own immense Void power flowing, constantly reshaping his fortress of chains. A section would bulge outwards to absorb one of Iffrit’s blows, then ripple and reform to intercept one of Fang Fairy’s lightning darts. His movements were still economical, his control absolute, but he was now fully engaged, his entire being focused on maintaining his perfect, unbreakable defense against the relentless, two-pronged assault.

He was not under pressure, not yet. He was not being overwhelmed. But he was being… tested. He was being forced to expend his own energy, to actively counter the ceaseless, chaotic dance of lightning and flame. The rapier had been replaced by a thousand stinging needles, and the mountain was being pelted by a relentless meteor shower. It was not a battle he could lose, not yet. But it was, for the first time, a battle.

Lloyd felt a flicker of grim, hard-won satisfaction. He had not broken his father’s defense. But he had forced him to take the duel seriously. He had forced the mountain to acknowledge the storm.

The dance of lightning and flame continued, a beautiful, terrifying, and utterly spectacular, stalemate. And in the heart of it all, Lloyd stood, his will a fortress, his mind a razor’s edge, waiting, watching, for a single, fractional, and almost certainly fleeting, mistake. The opening he needed to turn this spectacular display into a true victory.