SUPREME ARCH-MAGUS - Chapter 958 - 958: Will you Avenge?!

“I was next in line to become the Heavenly Spear Goddess,” the spirit whispered. “My soul was forged in discipline. My power in restraint. But my love… was in her.”

The mirror shifted.

Years passed in seconds. The two girls grew — now graceful women, divine and revered.

The mirror showed a grand ceremony. Celestial beings lined the high halls. Elders bowed. A throne of spears hovered above the fire-ringed arena.

“This was the day I was to ascend,” she said.

The goddess in the vision walked toward the platform in golden robes, the divine insignia glowing across her palms. Her sister stood beside her — face covered in a veil of joy.

Until the final step.

Naera moved behind her, and with a motion too fast for the eye, drew a gifted dagger — stabbing it into her sister’s spine.

The memory went cold.

The flames died.

And the spear throne vanished into smoke.

Kent’s heart froze.

He saw the look on Naera’s face — not one of rage, not even triumph — but calm detachment, as though this betrayal was long overdue.

“She told the High Seat that I had plotted against the realm,” the goddess said, her voice strained but steady. “That I intended to seize the Flame Sovereignty for myself. They believed her.”

The next scene was silent.

The elder sister — her — was bound in divine chains. Stripped of her title. Her name burned from the temple walls.

She was cast out — into the void.

The mirror now showed a broken version of the divine woman — kneeling alone in a realm of drifting stone and cursed wind. Her hands shook. Her flames flickered like dying embers.

And yet…

She did not cry.

She did not scream.

She sat. Endured. Waited.

“They erased me,” she said. “But I refused to vanish. I buried my pain and waited for a world where power would be given to one who does not crave it.”

She turned to Kent now, the mirror fading into soft ash behind her.

“That world… is this one. That time… is now.”

Kent said nothing at first. His gaze was low, clenched in quiet fury. Not just at her sister, but at a divine realm so ready to crush truth for the comfort of lies.

Then he spoke — softly, but with weight.

“Why me?”

The goddess looked at him long — as if seeing into every storm of his past.

“Because you’ve never had a realm protect you.

Because you’ve carried yourself with pride even when alone.

Because you seek power not for glory… but to be ready when it matters.”

Her fingers opened.

The divine bow hovered once more — not between them, but beside him. Now it glowed with warmth and choice.

“I ask only this: will you help me restore what was taken from me?”

“Not revenge. Not war.

But justice.

The truth.”

Kent stepped forward, his hand resting upon the floating weapon. The bow pulsed, not with light — but with a presence that now felt like a heartbeat, strong and stable.

“And what will you give?” he asked.

She knelt.

Not dramatically.

Not like a servant.

But as one spirit acknowledging another.

“I will become your weapon spirit. I will obey your every command. My fire will answer your will. My loyalty will not break, even if your soul does.”

Kent stared for a long moment. Then slowly, he extended his hand.

“Then rise. Not as a servant. Not as a shadow.

But as my partner.”

Her eyes widened, just slightly.

No one — not even gods — had offered her that word in a thousand years.

She stood. The bow flared. And in a spiral of glowing flame, her spirit merged into it again — this time not buried deep within, but woven into its center, her presence now seated at the heart of its power.

And far above, in the divine sky, something shifted.

A ripple moved through the old heavens.

A name once burned away… whispered itself back into the fabric of fate.

–

The calm before the storm had deceived them.

For days, the Sea Realm had remained silent — unnervingly so. No ripples, no whale songs, no tremors. Even the seabed volcanoes, known to rumble like an old man in sleep, had gone still.

It was the silence of a realm holding its breath.

And then — everything snapped.

It began with a pulse. Not of sound, but of pressure — like the entire ocean inhaled at once.

Fishermen in the coastal rings of the Coral Spirit Clan dropped their nets in horror as the tides pulled back without warning, exposing entire reefs and seaweed plains. Thousands of fish flopped on bare stone, and ancient shells cracked from the dryness.

The elders of Coral Mountain rushed to the great tide bell — but it was too late.

The sea came crashing back.

Not in waves — in walls.

A monstrous tide surged back into the region, higher than any seen in centuries. It slammed into the outer coral structures like an angry god, and the waters — once clear and glittering — turned a deep crimson hue, as if the ocean itself bled.

Then came the sound.

A roar.

A cry.

A howl from the abyss — something not alive, yet deeply aware.

–

At the very heart of the Coral Spirit Clan, there stood the Coral Mountain — a living structure formed over a million years by spirit coral, acting as both home and shrine to generations of spirit channelers.

It glowed with gentle pink and azure tones, and its inner halls hummed with life.

But not today.

The second pulse hit the Coral Mountain directly — an explosion of divine energy that rippled through the seabed like a fissure of lightning. The spiritual roots of the coral structure began to crack.

Then came the third pulse — a vibration of unknown origin that tore across the realm.

The entire left flank of the mountain shattered.

Massive segments of the coral cliff broke apart and fell into the depths, releasing entire libraries, spirit gardens, and ancient vaults into the black trench below.

The elders screamed.

The sky turned eerie black, despite it being mid-day.

Children and guardians rushed for safety. But the entire realm had entered a storm that was not of wind or war — but awakening.

–

Miles away, at the base of the Sea Trench’s volcanic region, the dormant furnaces cracked open.

For thousands of years, the Stonejaw Volcano had remained asleep. It was said to only awaken when a god bled beneath the sea.

Today, it erupted.

Magma surged upward like a spear, glowing bright gold and molten red. The pressure caused superheated steam explosions that blew holes through layers of crust. Boiling water shot hundreds of meters into the ocean like pillars of flame trapped in liquid.

Entire colonies of spirit kelp burned into cinders underwater. Lava flowed into abandoned caves, and rare thermal beasts — long thought extinct — stirred and fled toward safer depths.

–

Above all this chaos, the sky — once a rich, calming cerulean — began to darken unnaturally.

This was no ordinary storm. There were no clouds, no thunderheads. Yet the light was swallowed whole.

A thick, inky veil rolled across the sky, starting from directly above the Naga Clan’s Ancestral Temple, spreading outward like spilled ink across silk.

Daylight was erased in minutes.

Even birds refused to fly.

Elders in nearby human kingdoms climbed their towers, gazing up in disbelief. They called it “the day the sun forgot to rise.”

–

Within the Sea Trench, protected by runic currents and barrier walls, lay the Ancestral Temple of the Naga Clan — a sacred place carved from ancient shellstone and blood-marked pearls.

It had been quiet for centuries. Until now.

A brilliant blue-gold beam shot up from the temple’s central spire, punching through sea and sky, visible even from the surface.

The protective runes around the temple ignited, one by one, burning in ancient serpentine patterns. The walls of the structure glowed as if being lit from within by an unseen sun.

Inside the deepest chamber, where only high priests dared step, the Ancestral Throne — a throne that hadn’t shimmered in a thousand years — began to hum.

Mosaic tiles depicting naga wars and sea legends cracked under the pressure.

The guardians knew what it meant.

“Someone has awakened an artifact forged in the breath of the sea gods,” whispered the high elder.

“No… worse. Something ancient has chosen a bearer.”

–

Back at the Forge

And at the very center of it all — beneath layers of chaos, fire, and storm — Kent still sat in prayer, his body unmoving, his face calm. The divine bow floated beside him, now gently pulsing in rhythm with his heartbeat.

Muni Naga stood nearby, unmoving, tools still in his hands, watching the tremors spread outward through divine runes etched on the forge walls.

He muttered under his breath, the corners of his lips curling into a half-smile:

“So the gods are trembling…”

“Good. It means the bow has chosen the right one.”

–

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