CHAPTER 119: THE PRIMORDIAL RIFT’S WRATH 3

The altar erupted with a deafening roar, spawning riftprimals, such as titanic, multi-limbed beasts with glowing cores, molten spines, and armored shells, larger and more ferocious than the titans, their movements a blur of deadly precision that left the trio reeling.

"Form up!" Kelvin shouted, his voice was barely audible over the rift’s roar, Xerion reared, his flames were ignited in a blazing arc that lit the chasm.

He channeled a fire Convergence and a searing fire lance sliced through a riftprimal’s core, the beast dissolving in a burst of ash, but the Sovereign dove, its talons tearing into Kelvin’s chest, blood gushed as he staggered, the pain blinding him, his vision was swimming with dark spots.

He cursed under his breath and channeled a fiery vortex, while Xerion’s flames roared through the gauntlet, searing the stormhawk’s wing and forcing it back, but his strength faltered and blood pooled beneath him as he fought to stay upright.

Lyra wove a shadow cage while pinning two riftprimals, her gauntlet trembled as tendrils tightened, Salaris’s talons rendered their cores in a blur of feathers and claws, but a primal’s claw gashed her arm and blood sprayed as her gauntlet flickered, her cry of pain echoed through the chasm.

The visions showed her sister’s ghost, accusing her, but Salaris’s screeches rallied her, the raptor rendered another core despite her wounded flank, saving her tamer.

Darius fired a radial soulstone blast and shattered three cores in a blinding explosion of green light, but a primal’s spine tore into his side with blood gushing as he stumbled, his concussion blurred his vision into a haze.

Rhoam crushed another primal, with his plates deflecting claws, but a talon grazed his flank and blood seeped between his plates, his roars shoke the ground.

The rift primals pressed harder, their cores regenerated, their roars amplified the visions to unbearable intensity. Kelvin took another hit, a primal’s claw tore his thigh, blood pooling as he nearly collapsed, his vision faded and the pain was a relentless tide.

Xerion’s flames kept him standing, incinerating a primal, its core exploded in a shower of sparks. Lyra’s side was struck, blood gushed, her cage was weakened as her strength ebbed, but Salaris saved her, rending a core in a burst of violet light.

Darius’s leg buckled, immediately, a primal’s claw tore his shoulder, his soulstone trembled as blood streamed down his face and his concussion became worsened, but Rhoam’s roars anchored him, crushing a primal, its core shattering.

"We can’t hold it!" Darius shouted, his voice engulfed with desperation, with blood dripping from his brow, his body trembled on the edge of collapse.

Kelvin’s vision swam, Veyra’s visions were merged with the rift’s pulse. "You are nothing and you will fail."His hands shook, the image of his father’s burning form the flashing before him, but he roared and said, "Lets stay together!" and pulled the codex, decoding its final rune with trembling fingers.....

"The Veil’s origin is its core. Destroy it." He pointed to the altar’s glowing core which was pulsing with Veil energy, the heart of the Sovereign’s power.

Lyra pinned three primals, her gauntlet was nearly failing, blood streamed down her arm and thigh, but Salaris slashed cores despite her wounds, her screeches was a defiant cry.

Darius’s radial blast shattered four cores, his arm trembled with effort, blood was gushing from his side, his vision doubled. Rhoam crushed another primal, his plates scarred and blood seeped from his flank.

Kelvin channeled a final fire lance and Xerion’s flames pierced the altar’s core, the beam was fueled by every rune and artifact in his arsenal, his body screamed with pain as blood poured from his wounds.

The Sovereign screeched, its ethereal form collapsed in a surge of violet light, its wings dissolved into ash.

Veyra and Torin staggered, their runes were dimming, their faces were also filled with shock. Lyra’s shadow runes lashed out, binding their wrists in a coiling net, her gauntlet flared despite her faltering strength.

The cloaked figure appeared, its blade was raised, runes glowed with dark energy, but Kelvin’s fire lance struck it, and its form dissolved into ash with a final, fading scream.

Veyra and Torin struggled, their runes were extinguished, their bodies crumpled to the ground, defeated and their plans shattered.

The altar exploded, the rift collapsed in a blinding violet surge that shook the chasm, the riftprimals dissolved into ash, and their roars faded into silence.

The Veil’s origin was destroyed, its energy dissipating in a wave of fading light that left the chasm eerily still.

The trio collapsed, bloodied and broken, their beasts sprawled beside them, alive but battered.

Kelvin’s chest, shoulder, arm, and thigh wounds bled freely with his vision fading as he lay on the molten ground, Xerion’s warmth the only thing keeping him conscious.

Lyra’s arm, side, and thigh wounds gushed blood, her gauntlet was dim, her body trembled as she leaned on Salaris, the raptor’s flank was bleeding heavily.

Darius’s chest, shoulder, and leg wounds bled profusely, his concussion was blurring his vision, his soulstone slipped from his shaking hand, but Rhoam’s presence anchored him tightly, the panther’s plates were cracked and filled with blood.

They scavenged loot from the fallen riftprimals and the Sovereign’s remains: riftprimal scales pulsed with defensive energy, psychic cores glowing with mental resistance, and a final tablet that etched with Veil runes.

Kelvin decoded it, his hands shaking: "The Veil is ended. Rebuild the Sanctum."

They split the loot evenly, Kelvin took extra cores for mental resistance, Lyra scales for armor reinforcement, Darius runes for his soulstone, their movements were slow and pained, but it was a testament to their survival.

The journey back to the Sanctum was a grueling ordeal, their injuries crippled them, each step they took was a battle against their collapse.

Kelvin’s wounds bled heavily, his chest and thigh wounds tearing open with every movement, his vision fading as he leaned on Xerion, the serpent’s scales scarred but steady.

Lyra’s arm and thigh wounds left her limping, blood dripped onto the molten rock, her gauntlet flickered as she leaned on Salaris, the raptor’s flank was bleeding and her talons dragging as well.

Darius’s chest and leg wounds bled profusely, his concussion was worsened, and his vision was doubling as he leaned on Rhoam, while the panther’s plates cracked and blood seeped between them.

The molten ravines and jagged gorges seemed endless, the terrain punishing their broken bodies, but their beasts guided them, their bonds a lifeline through the agony.

They managed to bandage their wounds so as to gather strength that can get them to Sanctum infirmary.

Kelvin clutched the codex, its runes were dim, though his voice was weak but it was resolute as he was bandaged and filled with pain. "We ended the Veil. Master Veyra, Master Torin, the Sovereign and they are gone for good."

They reached the Sanctum’s infirmary which was a vast, cavernous chamber carved deep within the ancient stone of the school, its walls were etched with intricate healing sigils that pulsed with a soft, golden light, casting shifting patterns across the rune-etched cots where the Tide’s Crest, Kelvin, Lyra, and Darius—lay broken and bleeding.

The scent of antiseptic herbs, sharp and medicinal substances, filled the space, mingling with the faint hum of restorative runes that vibrated through the polished stone floor, a stark contrast to the molten chaos and violet fury of the Primordial Rift.

Shelves lined the walls, laden with jars of beast-bonded salves, vials of essence-infused oils, and bundles of dried herbs glowing faintly with Sanctum magic, their surfaces shimmering in the golden light.

The cots, sturdy and carved with protective runes, were spaced evenly across the chamber, each surrounded by trays of healing tools—rune-threaded needles, crystal-infused bandages, and psychic shards pulsing with mental clarity.

Kelvin collapsed onto his cot, his chest, shoulder, arm, and thigh wounds were bleeding profusely despite his self applied bandage, the blood soaking through his torn armor and staining the rune-etched fabric beneath him, leaving dark crimson pools that glistened in the infirmary’s glow.

Each breath was a labored struggle, the gash across his chest was burning with every rise and fall movement of his heart, the claw marks on his shoulder and arm throbbing as if the riftprimal’s molten claws still tore at his flesh, sending waves of pain that threatened to pull him under.

His thigh wound was a deep, jagged tear from the Sovereign’s talons, pulsed with agony, each movement was a test of his dwindling endurance.

Xerion, his Level 8 Legendary End-Tyrant, sprawled nearby, his twenty-foot serpentine form was a cascade of crimson and gold scales, scarred from battles across the Shattered Peaks, Verdant Hollow, Iron Fens, Riftspire, Abyssal Caldera, Sanctum, Veil Heart, Abyss Core, and now the Primordial Rift.

The serpent’s amber eyes flickered with exhaustion, his gouged scales oozing faint traces of blood, yet his warmth pulsed through their 82% sync ratio, a steady anchor that dulled Kelvin’s pain and kept him tethered to consciousness.

The Veil codex was heavy in his pack beside the cot, its leather cover etched with runes that pulsed faintly in the golden light, was a silent reminder of their triumph over the Veil’s origin.

But the cloaked figure’s vanished as the shadow lingered in his mind, a nagging threat that refused to fade, its runes were haunting his thoughts like a specter of battles yet to come.