Chapter 159: Unknown Being.

Chapter 159: Chapter 159: Unknown Being.

The golden light continued to pierce the heavens.

From high above the academy grounds, Theon watched the brilliant pillar stretch into the sky. Its radiance spilled across the landscape, painting the battlefield below in a false, holy gold. The sight should have been beautiful. It was not. Beauty had no place here—not when the light felt like a wound torn open in the world itself. Theon’s silver hair whipped across his face in the rising wind, but he barely noticed. His icy-blue eyes stayed locked on it, sharp and measuring, while a deeper chill settled in his chest. He had seen catastrophe before. He had walked through it. This was different. This light did not simply destroy. It invited.

Monsters poured from every direction.

Some clawed their way out of cracks that split the earth like open wounds. Others simply stepped out of the light itself, as if the radiance had decided to birth them. Their grotesque forms flooded the grounds, forcing instructors and students into a desperate, grinding defense. The air stank of ozone, blood, and something rough—something that did not belong under any sky.

"Everyone, maintain formation!" an instructor roared, voice cracking under the strain. "Do not let them break through! Long-range support the front line—now!"

"Eastern formation, fall back! Do not engage alone!"

Spells lit the air in frantic bursts of color. Blades met claws with wet, meaty impacts. Explosions shook the ground. The forest around the academy rang with the overlapping roars of things that should never have been allowed to exist. Students—some still children in everything but the blood on their hands—bled and still held their ground. An instructor’s arm was nearly torn free; he gritted his teeth and kept casting. A girl no older than sixteen screamed as claws raked her side, then forced herself upright and drove her blade into the monster’s throat. Theon’s gaze tracked it all with quiet precision. They were doing well enough. For now.

But the golden light was the real problem.

It was not merely releasing monsters. Something was building inside it that made the air itself feel heavy, like the moment before a storm breaks. Theon felt it in his bones, a pressure that had nothing to do with altitude. *What the hell is forming in there?* The question scraped against the inside of his skull. He had brought Ifrith, Silver, and Lazaria up here to remain on standby for exactly this kind of escalation. Hovering with them after flying clear of the chaos below, he had expected monsters. He had not expected this weight.

Several minutes passed. Then the light intensified without warning.

The brilliance swelled. Magical pressure crashed outward in silent waves that made the trees shudder and forced students to their knees. Even Theon, high above, felt his body tremble against the force. The silver strands of his hair lifted as if the air itself recoiled. His jaw tightened. He had faced pressure before—enough to crush lesser men—but this was different. This felt personal. This was the world itself leaning in.

The golden light distorted.

Then a figure stepped out of it.

Humanoid. Ancient. A warrior’s frame wrapped in the appearance of someone who had fought through centuries of blood and ruin. A sword hung at its side—old, scarred, but still hungry. The sight of it sent a sharp spike through Theon’s chest. He had seen relics of old wars. This thing *was* a relic. Or something worse.

It raised its head and screamed.

**RRROOOAAARRR!**

The sound wasn’t a roar. It was a weapon. An ear-splitting, bone-deep cry that hammered across the battlefield like a physical blow. Students clapped hands over their ears and staggered. Some dropped to their knees. Even the instructors flinched.

Theon’s frown deepened, a rare crack in his composure. "What the hell is that?" The words left him flat, but inside something darker stirred—recognition without understanding, the instinctive knowledge that whatever this was, it had not come merely to kill.

The being’s scream cut off. Its head turned slowly. Its gaze swept the sky and locked onto the four figures hovering there: Theon. Ifrith. Silver. Lazaria.

The moment its eyes found Lazaria, it went still.

A red light flickered in its sockets.

It stretched out one hand.

Lazaria barely had time to react before an invisible force seized her. She was ripped from the air and dragged downward with brutal speed. The wind tore at her as the ground rushed up. For a fraction of a second her eyes met Theon’s across the distance—wide, not with fear, but with the sharp, furious calculation of someone who refused to be taken.

"Lazaria!"

Theon shot forward and Ifrith moved at the same instant, but neither could reach her before it was too late. Theon’s hand closed on empty air. The chill in his chest flared into something hotter, sharper. He had watched people die. He had ordered it when necessary. This was different. This was *her*.

The being raised its other hand.

**BOOOOOOOM!**

A massive golden barrier erupted around it and Lazaria, sealing them inside a perfect sphere of light. Theon slammed into the surface an instant later. His fist met the barrier with a dull, final *thud*. Pain flared through his knuckles, irrelevant. "Lazaria!"

He poured magic into a spell and unleashed it. The blast struck the golden surface and scattered into harmless sparks. He struck again. And again. Each attack dissolved without leaving a mark. The barrier did not even ripple. Rage—cold, precise, and utterly useless—clawed at the edges of his control. "Open!" His voice cracked across the battlefield. "Open, damn it!"

Ifrith studied the barrier with narrowed eyes, the usual fire in them banked low and dangerous. Silver stood silent beside him, expression blank and unreadable, but the slight tension in his posture betrayed what words did not. Even Ifrith could not force a way through. Theon’s breathing stayed measured only by will.

Somewhere beneath the calculation, something older and less disciplined whispered that if the barrier did not open, he would tear the sky apart trying.

Inside the enclosure, Lazaria pushed herself off the ground. The being stood several meters away, crimson eyes fixed on her. Blood dripped from its fingers, carrying strange wisps of spiritual energy that bled into the air like smoke. The sight of it made her skin crawl. Not fear—she had trained that out of herself years ago—but a quieter recognition. This thing was not merely strong. It was *wrong*.

Lazaria’s face hardened. "What the hell are you?"

She raised her hand. A spell formed and shot forward. The explosion swallowed the figure and when the smoke cleared, it still stood. Unscathed. The lack of reaction was worse than any counterattack. She clicked her tongue and launched another. Then another. Nothing worked against it. Frustration burned low in her gut, sharp and familiar. She had always hated opponents that refused to break.

The being raised its sword.

The atmosphere changed. Lazaria’s instincts screamed. She leapt sideways an instant before the blade carved through the space where her head had been. Wind from the cut kissed her cheek. Then it followed. Slash after slash, spell after spell, the attacks came from every angle. Lazaria dodged, twisted, ran the circumference of the barrier, searching for any opening—but there was none. The golden wall mocked her at every turn. Outside she could feel Theon’s magic hammering uselessly against it. The knowledge settled like a stone in her chest. She was alone in here. And alone was something she had never liked, no matter how often she pretended otherwise.

*This thing is troublesome,* she thought while narrowly avoiding another cut. *If I keep this up, my stamina will be drained.*

Brute force was useless. So she began to watch instead—every swing, every spell, every tiny shift in posture. Timing. Intervals. The world narrowed to the rhythm of the fight. Her breathing steadied. The dread she refused to name settled into something sharper: focus. She had survived worse by watching. She would survive this the same way.

The being raised its hand again. Magical formations bloomed around its body. A barrage of spells erupted, but Lazaria danced through the explosions, eyes never leaving it. Heat scorched her sleeve. Debris stung her face. She did not flinch.

When the final spell faded, the being’s movements slowed for a fraction of a second. The formations vanished. For a heartbeat, it did not attack.

Then her eyes narrowed. *Wait.*

It happened again. Multiple spells. Then a brief lag before the next cast.

*Two seconds.*

Her lips curled. *After that ability, it needs two full seconds.*

Two seconds was nothing. But in a fight like this, seconds meant everything. The realization cut through the exhaustion and the isolation like clean steel. Outside, Theon was still trying to break the barrier. She could almost feel the force of his will. It steadied her more than she would ever admit.

She waited. Then the being raised its hand once more. Formations appeared. The barrage launched.

Lazaria moved the instant the last spell died.

"Now!"

She crossed the distance in a blur. Her blade flashed.

**SLASH!**

Steel tore through its hand and continued across its torso. For a frozen moment the world held still. Blood—dark, wrong—hung in the air. Lazaria landed several meters behind it and turned to check on the being as it stood motionless, body savaged. *Did I get it?* she asked herself. Hope, sharp and dangerous, flared for one reckless heartbeat.

Then the wounds began to close. Flesh knitted. The severed hand regrew and the damage simply... vanished.

Lazaria’s expression shifted. The hope died cleanly. In its place rose something quieter and more familiar: the understanding that this fight had only just begun. ℯ

Before she could react it was in front of her with a fist crashing into her face.