CHAPTER 91: A HOPE

[: 3rd POV :]

Even with her mightiest roar—one that could reduce continents to ash and turn oceans into deserts—the barrier stood unscathed.

The sound of Melira’s attack still echoed through the skies, yet the shimmering wall of bluish-white light remained untouched.

Steam rose from the sea that had vaporized under the sheer force of her breath.

The very atmosphere trembled with residual energy.

And yet... nothing. Not a single crack on the barrier.

A tense silence followed.

The gathered rulers and their armies stared in disbelief.

Kaelgor, the Beast King, broke the silence first with a low growl.

"Impossible... That attack could have split the world in two."

His sharp beast-like eyes narrowed, filled with both awe and dread.

Sylthara, the Dragon Empress, tightened her grip on her glaive, her golden eyes flashing in disbelief.

"Though it carried divine essence...yet...this barrier..."

Her voice trailed off, uncertain whether to finish the thought.

Lilith, the Demon Queen, crossed her arms, lips curling into a grim line.

"If even that failed... then what else should we do?"

Melira landed back on the deck of her flagship, her crimson-black scales peeling away as she returned to her human form.

Her breath was steady, but her expression... it was dark, her brows furrowed in frustration.

"Even my attack was useless..." she muttered under her breath, her eyes burning with rage and worry.

She turned sharply toward Sylvene.

"Spirit Empress, is there really no other way...?"

Sylvene’s golden eyes dimmed as she shook her head slowly, her voice heavy with sorrow.

"That barrier... was forged with the lives of the First Generation of Rulers"

"They poured everything—their Thrones, their Origins, their souls—into sealing this land"

"To shatter it, you’d need a force equal to their combined existence"

"But currently...it’s impossible...

Melira’s voice shook with restrained fury.

"Damn it all!"

The tension was suffocating.

Until a deep, resonant voice broke the silence.

"Then we make the impossible... possible."

All eyes turned toward Xerath, the Demon King.

His towering form radiated demonic majesty as his eyes burned with a dangerous gleam.

He extended his hand, and within his clawed palm appeared a sphere pulsating with uncertain energy—black and purple swirls devouring light itself.

"Behold... the Orb of Nebula."

Gasps erupted once more.

Even Melira’s eyes widened in shock.

"That... thing still exists?" Sylthara hissed, her scales faintly flickering with golden light.

Xerath’s lips curled into a savage grin.

"It does. Passed down through my bloodline for eons"

"A weapon that can wound even the laws themselves. It can erase... authority."

Sylvene’s brows furrowed, her voice stern.

"Xerath, that artifact is forbidden for a reason. It can unravel reality itself if misused."

"And what choice do we have, Spirit Empress?"

Xerath’s tone was sharp, cutting through the rising tension like a blade.

"Your visions showed that boy fighting endlessly against infinite monsters. If we hesitate, he’ll die—or worse. Tell me, is that what you want?"

Melira stepped forward, her voice fierce and commanding.

"Use it. Whatever the cost, we break that barrier. My son is inside, and I will not abandon him."

For the first time, Xerath’s grin softened—not with kindness, but with grim respect.

"As you wish, Empress"

"But know this: once the Orb awakens, there is no turning back. Not even gods can predict what will remain standing."

The weight of Xerath’s decision hung in the air like a storm ready to split the heavens.

The Orb of Nebula pulsed faintly in his hand, its swirling core of violet and black mist promising devastation far beyond mortal comprehension.

But there was a catch—one that all present understood.

The artifact could not be used recklessly.

Each activation required decades—sometimes centuries—to recharge, drawing energy from the Demon King’s bloodline itself.

Once spent, it would fall dormant, its immense power sealed until the flow of time restored it.

Yet Xerath did not hesitate.

His eyes burned with grim resolve.

"For the one who saved my son... I will spend what cannot be regained."

He stepped forward, wings of shadow unfurling behind him as the Orb in his hand pulsed violently, as if awakening from a deep slumber.

The other rulers watched in solemn silence, each sensing the magnitude of what was about to unfold.

Melira clenched her fists, her voice low yet trembling.

"Demon King... are you certain? Using it now means your people will be defenseless for decades..."

Xerath smirked darkly, his gaze never leaving the barrier.

"Defenseless? Perhaps. But debt... must be repaid in full."

Then he raised the Orb high.

The sky darkened.

The sea grew still.

The very air seemed to recoil as if in fear of what was coming.

Tiny motes of violet light began to flicker around the Orb like stars forming in a newborn galaxy.

One by one, they multiplied, until hundreds... then thousands... hovered in the void around Xerath, humming with cosmic resonance.

The Dwarf King muttered under his breath, awe slipping into his gruff voice.

"By the Anvil... I’ve only read of it in the oldest records. But to see it with my own eyes...it’s marvelling..."

A deep vibration thrummed through the ground.

The rulers felt it in their bones.

The energy gathered faster, spiraling inward, condensing into a core of blinding violet brilliance no larger than a pebble—yet heavy with the power to scar reality itself.

Xerath’s voice became a guttural chant, ancient syllables spilling forth in a tongue older than history.

The Orb resonated with his words, glowing brighter, until its surface cracked—not with damage, but with energy straining to be released.

Melira’s eyes widened.

"It’s ready..."

With a final growl, Xerath thrust his arm forward.

"Orb of Nebula... OBLITERATE!"

The Orb fired.

A singular beam of violet annihilation erupted outward, tearing through the sky with a shriek of rending reality.

The clouds above were split open, ripped apart in perfect symmetry.

The sea below churned violently, pushed away as if fleeing the light.

Space itself seemed to ripple, distort, and tremble under the beam’s passage.

And then—impact.

The Forbidden Continent’s barrier flared violently, runic sigils blazing across its surface as the beam struck with a force that made the heavens quake.

The light was so intense that the rulers were forced to shield their eyes, though even through closed lids, the violet brilliance burned.

The sound was indescribable—like glass breaking across infinite dimensions, yet holding firm against the shattering. The sea boiled.

The winds howled like dying titans.

A vortex of raw energy surged where the beam met the barrier, swallowing light and shadow alike.

For a heartbeat, it seemed as if the world itself might split.

Then... silence.

The light faded.

The storm stilled.

When the rulers dared open their eyes, they saw it—a hairline fracture, barely visible, running across a small portion of the barrier.

It pulsed faintly, mocking them with how little had been achieved despite unleashing such catastrophic force.

The air trembled, the sea surged, and the ground beneath the rulers cracked from the lingering resonance of the Demon King’s attack.

The crack on the barrier flickered faintly, spiderwebbing ever so slightly—fragile proof that their combined might and Xerath’s sacrifice had not been in vain.

Melira gasped, hope flaring in her chest for the first time.

"It’s... working! The barrier—it’s finally—"

But her words died as reality itself screamed.

A thunderous tear echoed across the sky—not the sound of something breaking in the world, but of the world being forcibly opened.

Above the Forbidden Continent, a gash of pure nothingness ripped across the heavens.

Space warped and bled with lightless brilliance, a wound in existence so deep that stars flickered out within its edges.

The temperature plummeted and rose at once, wind howling in multiple directions, as if creation itself did not know whether to flee or bow.

Then... it appeared.

A colossal, invisible hand.

Not invisible by absence, but by the incomprehensibility of its form.

Its outline shimmered like heat haze, its presence vast and alien, stretching from the rift as if descending from realms beyond mortal knowing.

Energy rippled around it—primal, untainted, transcending all laws and elements, a force that could command not just destruction, but concepts themselves.

"By the will of forge... what... what is that?!" The Dwarf King pointed.

Sylvene’s voice echoed.

"A Will that should not interfere..."

The gigantic hand reached down with agonizing slowness, yet every inch of its movement carried the weight of a world-ending verdict.

Its fingers stretched wide, closing around the crackling violet energy still surging from Xerath’s Orb of Nebula.

Melira screamed, her voice raw.

"No! Don’t—!"

But it was too late.

The hand closed.

The catastrophic energy—the power to scar reality, to undo the barrier—was caught as though it were a fragile candle flame.

The violet radiance flared once, straining against the grip of the unseen titan.

And then, with a single, effortless squeeze, the light shattered—crushed into nothingness, extinguished like a whisper in a storm.

A shockwave rippled outward, silent yet suffocating, pushing all seven rulers back despite their immense strength.

The hand lingered for a moment longer, almost as if acknowledging their defiance.

Then, slowly, it withdrew into the rift.

The tear in the heavens sealed behind it with an ominous finality, leaving only the untouched barrier below—pristine once more, the faint fracture already mending itself.

Despair settled like a shroud.

Melira sank to her knees, her voice barely a whisper.

"Even that... wasn’t enough..."

Xerath growled low, his claws digging into the earth.

"No... it was enough"

"But something else—something beyond this world—chose to intervene."

Sylvene turned her gaze to the sealed sky, her face pale.

"The first generation... didn’t just build a barrier. They called upon... *that*... to watch over it."

The rulers fell silent, the weight of their realization pressing down like the hand that had just stolen their hope.