Chapter 66: Miasma of the Sun-River

Encased within a shimmering, protective golden energy capsule, Arthur floated amidst the chaotic winds, maintaining absolute, icy focus. Though his colossal Asura soul-hands had just been violently shredded by the Phoenix Spirit’s razor-sharp wings, panic was entirely absent from his crimson eyes.

He was fully aware of the monumental chasm between his current state and a true Sixth-Rank Mage. Even after completing the Second Awakening of his Flame Sword Bone—a legendary milestone he had only ever read about in ancient academy texts, reserved strictly for those destined to wear an emperor’s crown—he knew he was walking a tightrope over an abyss.

A faint, bitter pang of guilt flickered in his chest as he realized that the sovereign bone powering his veins rightfully belonged to the fallen prince. But remorse was a luxury of the weak. In this brutal world, if he wanted to draw another breath, he had to fight with every ounce of his soul until the bitter end.

Fortunately, he was not fighting alone.

Seeing Arthur’s Asura projection stagger under the onslaught, the Royal Academy Principal could no longer remain a passive observer. With a fierce shout, he rocketed upward into the fractured sky, his robes whipping wildly in the psychic gale.

Reaching out with a swift motion, the Principal unsealed his spatial storage ring and drew forth an ancient artifact: a massive, jet-black earthen urn radiating an oppressive, heavy archaic pressure.

As the Principal channeled his volatile Light-element mana directly into the artifact, the black urn began to violently vibrate and expand. In mere seconds, it ballooned outward, stretching over **300 meters in length and eclipsing 400 meters in width**, casting an enormous, foreboding shadow over both Arthur’s spiritual projection and the radiant Phoenix Girl.

The Principal hovered high above the titanic struggle, his face pale with exertion as he pointed the gaping mouth of the colossal urn directly at the imperial flame spirit.

"King Vane!" the Principal roared, his voice cutting through the roaring flames with authoritative fury. "I possess supreme Light-element efficiency, and I am a devout believer of the *Goddess of Magic and Knowledge*.

This sacred artifact was bestowed upon me directly by her temple! Inside this urn is the legendary **Sun-River Water**—a divine thermal liquid so catastrophic it can melt an entire fortified city into molten slag and trigger a boiling flood! If you force me to unleash this, the wrath of the Church of Magic and Knowledge will descend upon your dynasty, and not even your empire will survive!"

It was a desperate, high-stakes warning, invoking the supreme religious authority of the continent to check the Emperor’s bloodlust.

Yet, King Vane was beyond reason. His bloodshot eyes remained locked onto Arthur with single-minded, demonic hatred. The death of his children had entirely burned away any fear of political consequences or divine temples. To the Emperor, the Church, the academy, and the entire world could burn to ashes as long as the boy who stole his bloodline’s destiny paid with his life.

Down below in the ruined plaza, the atmosphere was a stark contrast of bitterness and calculation.

Kael stood amidst the shattered rubble, his fists clenched so tightly that his fingernails dug deep into his palms, drawing warm blood. His body trembled with a toxic, all-consuming wave of jealousy. He had lost everything—his shadow beast, his precious blessings, and his pride.

And now, right before his eyes, his greatest rival, Arthur, had been handed a legendary Flame Sword Bone and an imperial-tier opportunity on a silver platter.

*Why?* Kael screamed internally, his heart twisting in agonizing fury. *Why is my luck so wretched?!*

If Kael had realized that his tragic destiny, his utter loss, and Arthur’s soaring rise were nothing more than the result of a cosmic lucky draw—where the Heavenly Clown’s random whim had accidentally picked Arthur’s name—the fires of his envy would have burned him to ashes from the inside out. The truth was that at the precipice of that terrifying destruction, both Arthur and Kael had lost countless Fate Points. Both had been reduced to beggars in that cosmic balance.

At that moment, when the Heavenly Clown faced a famine of choices, it could not select Seraphina because she had deliberately entangled her destiny’s threads with someone else’s.

Kael was mentally shattered, his morale utterly crushed, whereas Arthur still possessed the mental resilience to recover from the shock. Only a few steps separated the two of them, but there was no one present to reveal that cosmic secret.

And in that infinite, void sky of the cosmos... everything was being controlled.

Floating there, beyond the clouds and space, was the true, terrifying form of the Heavenly Clown. It was no ordinary figure, but a colossal, distorted jester completely enveloped in dense layers of cosmic dark energy. Its hideous, white-painted face—with lips slit back to its ears and the apocalyptic spectacle of shattering planets dancing in its hollow eyes—stared down at the world below.

From its long, simian fingers, countless **invisible threads** stretched outward—black and white strings connected directly to the hearts and spines of Arthur, the King, and the Principal fighting below. At the flick of its fingers, it was manipulating every breath down below like a puppeteer.

It had widened its special *Heavenly Eyes* to their absolute limit, allowing it to clearly perceive every shift in the universe’s destiny. Yet, ironically, despite that omnipotent vision, it was entirely unable to detect Ethan’s blood-magic clone hidden down on the ground, completely concealed behind the fractures of space.

Down on the battlefield, the devastation had reached its absolute peak.

Floating in mid-air, the Principal had tilted the gaping mouth of his colossal black urn directly toward the majestic Phoenix Girl.

"Suffer this!" the Principal roared, pouring his remaining light-magic mana straight into the urn.

*Rumble—!*

It was not ordinary water emerging from the urn, but a boiling, thick, glowing-red torrent known as the **"Burning Sun-River Miasmal Water"**, crashing toward the Phoenix like a catastrophic flood. The liquid was so intensely destructive and blistering that wherever its spray scattered into the air, space itself melted down, turning into vacuums.

The Phoenix—which was actually the magical avatar of the King’s supreme flame—possessed no ordinary physical body. Seeing the boiling miasmal water hurtling toward her, her form suddenly distorted, shedding its solid state in a fraction of a second to transform into a pure, blazing **stream of red flaming energy**.

Twisting through the air like a serpent to evade the lethal deluge, she zipped away at an angle. Wherever that boiling water fell below, the stone foundations melted like butter into molten lava.

On the other side, Seraphina wasted not a single second. Utilizing her supreme **Space Blink Technique**, she blinked as far away from the lethal miasmal zone and devastation as possible. The Principal’s intent was clear—he was deliberately steering the boiling miasmal torrent away from Arthur and his clone, raining down absolute hell exclusively on the King and his flame spirit.

However, the Phoenix faced another monumental crisis. She couldn’t just save her own life; she had to pull King Vane up to safety away from the apocalypse as well.

The King, who moments before had been intoxicated by the arrogance of his own power, was now beginning to panic. If the boiling miasmal water pouring from the Principal’s urn even brushed his skin, it would melt right through his sixth-rank defensive armor and strip the flesh from his bones.

"Hurry! Pull me up and away from the mouth of this urn before this tide swallows us whole!" the King screamed orders to his Phoenix spirit.

Surrounded by raging infernos on all sides, the King rocketed straight toward the high skies alongside the Phoenix. The same old, terrifying imperial flame manifestations reappeared around him, assisting his upward ascent.

But there was a major hitch. The King’s primary expertise did not lie in light or space magic, but purely in **flame and lightning elements**. Moreover, due to the Principal’s age, experience, and the massive weight of the ancient urn, the Principal’s flight speed couldn’t quite match the King’s frantic pace.

The Principal was managing multiple fronts simultaneously—protecting Arthur below, keeping Kael safe, and controlling the discharge of the colossal, hundreds-of-tons-heavy miasmal urn. His limbs were trembling, and a slight slack formed in his magical control.

And right there—that was the microscopic window the King had been waiting for!

Capitalizing on his blistering flame velocity, the King ripped through space in a single bound and closed the distance directly beside the Principal.

Yet, he was committing a monumental mistake. He had forgotten that the Principal was not alone.

*Crack—!*

From below, Arthur’s colossal **Asura soul body** suddenly began to float mid-air without any physical support. Boiling blood streamed from both of Arthur’s eyes down his cheeks; he was pouring his remaining life force and the last remnants of his spinal strength into this single strike.

The three terrifying heads of his Asura body jerked upward simultaneously. All six of their crimson eyes burned like hot embers with blinding rage. Rippling the air with shockwaves, the Asura threw out a massive, illusionary grasp with its colossal hands to snatch the King right out of the sky.

"Stop him!" the King wheezed, ordering his Phoenix spirit.

The Phoenix understood instantly. She immediately pivoted her direction. The massive, hundred-meter-long **flaming feathers** trailing behind her whipped forward, spreading like a shield. Concentrating all her energy mid-air, she materialized a **blazing flame spear** forged purely from solar fire in her hands.

Without wasting a second, the Phoenix hurled the burning spear downward with all her might directly toward Arthur’s ascending Asura head.

*Boom—!*

A deafening explosion rang out, and Arthur’s illusionary Asura technique shattered into fragments mid-air.

Even so, the King was given no chance to recover. Because on the other side, shifting the trajectory of his urn, the Principal had poured an entire ocean of boiling miasma straight down from the sky right above the King’s head.

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