Talent Awakening: Draconic Overlord Of The Apocalypse - Chapter 474: • The Wailing Void Part Three

Chapter 474: • The Wailing Void Part Three

Galisk’s brows furrowed. His golden mech bristled behind him, forming new armaments, new shields, reacting instinctively to the shift.

“Death of purpose…” he echoed, almost to himself.

Around them, Union officers staggered—some dropping to their knees, clutching their heads, others standing still in the middle of battle, rifles hanging limp in their grasp. Their eyes became unfocused, as if some invisible weight pressed down on their very will.

“You feel it, don’t you?” the horned woman whispered, raising one hand.

The shadows rippled outward in waves—waves of nihilism, seeping into hearts and minds.

“Why fight?” her voice echoed in their heads. “Why bleed, why resist, when all your strength is just a delay? When everything you build cracks and burns in the end?”

A Union officer screamed and fired blindly into the air, breaking under the pressure. Another simply collapsed, sobbing as he tore off his helmet.

“ENOUGH!” Galisk shouted, golden energy bursting out in a pulse that pushed the creeping shadow back.

He straightened, wiping blood from his mouth.

“The only reason I haven’t turned you into a smudge in the pavement is because of that ability of yours. Don’t push your luck with me.”

He pointed at her, and behind him, the sky blazed gold once more. Massive swords and glowing constructs formed a divine circle around him.

True, Galisk—despite all the powerful hits he was throwing—was far from what he was actually capable of. He was holding back, painfully so. The fact was, he was far more powerful than her. Honestly, with his strength, he could have obliterated her the moment she displayed hostility.

But…

Why hadn’t he done so? Well, he initially tried—and that was what got him so roughed up in the first place. Now he was just testing the waters.

How could he not, when he was facing a power that could make the damage he dealt to her be inflicted on him instead?

Her power was flipping cause and effect—but that wasn’t the only thing it was doing. It seemed to be strangely tied to time and space manipulation.

From what Galisk had observed so far, there seemed to be a damage limit. When she had obtained wounds up to a certain extent, she would instantly switch out all that damage at a point of contact with another attack—resulting in a sudden spike in pain and fatigue for the receiver.

But a simple talent, blessing, or Authority couldn’t do that.

There was only one thing in existence that allows a being to win regardless of all odds stacked against them.

Something that, once its conditions were fulfilled, even the celestials would fall to its mercy.

A Celestial Title.

Galisk narrowed his eyes, golden light flaring around him like a divine corona.

“Tell me…” he growled, his voice low but sharp enough to cut steel. “You’re a Celestial Title Holder, aren’t you?”

For a heartbeat, the city went still—smoke wafting, rubble groaning, sirens distant.

Then she giggled.

It was a chilling sound—too calm, too amused, too inhuman.

“Whatever gave you that impression?” she asked, tilting her head. Her violet eyes glinted from behind the black skull mask, and the shadows coiled around her like serpents dancing in slow motion.

Galisk’s fists clenched. “Just answer the damn question, woman!”

As he shouted, the golden energy surged beneath his feet, lifting him skyward. His titanic golden mecha shimmered back into form, plates of golden metal clicking into place as he rose higher and higher above the city, the very air humming from the sheer density of his ether.

Below, her voice echoed again, carried on a ripple of shadow.

“And if I am… Son of Thllor… what will you do about it?”

Galisk hovered midair, light crackling around him like a storm held in restraint. His golden eyes narrowed, a flicker of realization tightening his jaw.

He let out a cold breath, his voice dipping into a chill, almost mocking tone.

“A House Head being a Household member… sounds like a downgrade to me.”

Yes, for a title holder to surrender to another was perhaps the most disgraceful thing that existed in the multiverse—one appointed as a head yet choosing to follow behind another. Most would rather pick death.

His words echoed through the blasted city, drawing the attention of Union officers and guild evac squads alike.

“I wonder…” he continued, arms folding as the massive mecha behind him mirrored the motion, casting a shadow over blocks of destruction. “What could Oboros have promised you? What could tempt someone with a Celestial Title into playing errand girl?”

His gaze sharpened. “What wasn’t possible with your own power… that you thought you’d find in his?”

For a moment, the woman stood still—shadow swirling tighter, unnaturally, around her.

Then, with a slow tilt of her head, she replied, her voice dripping with cool disdain.

“It’s not about power. It’s about truth.”

“And Oboros…” she stepped forward as the air rippled with warping shadow, “…offered a truth this reality refused to see.”

Galisk chuckled, low and bitter, the sound reverberating through the fractured skyline like rolling thunder.

“Why is it always the people in the dark that think they’re fighting for the light?” he asked, shaking his head with a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. His golden aura flickered brighter for a moment, casting long shadows over the battlefield. “That always seemed to amaze me.”

He raised his hand, and the light constructs behind him shimmered, reshaping into angelic wings of luminous blades, humming with energy.

“You paint yourself a martyr, cloaked in shadow and a sob story. But if a so-called tragic hero ends up dragging the lives of innocent people into their mess…” his voice hardened as he pointed down at the rubble, where civilians screamed, smoke billowed, and Union officers fought tooth and nail to push survivors out of collapsing zones, “…doesn’t that just make them a villain?”

He hovered higher, golden light spreading behind him like a celestial storm brewing.

“Tell me, shadow-bearer…” his tone sharp as a blade, his eyes widned, “how many more have to die for your enlightenment?”

She smiled as she said, “Enough to pay the price. Phenomenal goals requires great sacrifices.”