Lord of the realm

Chapter 195: Shattered heart

Not shattered, not dispersed—but cracked, like glass struck by a hammer. Fissures spread across the sphere’s surface, and through those cracks, Jaenor’s blade penetrated.

It scored across Draelusa’s chest, cutting through the illusion of his human form to reveal something beneath—flesh that was wrong, that existed in ways that defied normal biology.

Draelusa hissed in pain—actual pain, not just surprise—and the void sphere exploded outward in all directions.

Jaenor was caught in the blast, thrown backward twenty feet before his wings arrested his motion. His clothing was shredded, his exposed skin showing burns from contact with raw void energy.

But he’d drawn blood. Proven he could hurt a Sin.

"You actually wounded me," Draelusa said, and now his voice carried genuine respect. "No one has managed that in... decades? Centuries? I lose track."

The cultured facade was cracking, revealing something more primal beneath. His human form flickered, and for a moment, Jaenor saw his true shape—something massive and terrible, too many limbs and features that shouldn’t exist together.

Then the illusion reasserted, but the mask was thinner now.

"I underestimated you," Draelusa admitted. "Thought you were still developing, still learning to harness what you’d become. But you’re further along than I realized."

He raised both hands, and the power he manifested now was exponentially greater than before. The void didn’t just appear—it erupted from him like a volcanic explosion, expanding in all directions with devastating speed.

Jaenor had perhaps a second to react.

His wings wrapped around himself and his companions—they’d stayed back but were still too close to this level of power. He channeled everything he had into his shields, layering defense upon defense as the void rushed toward them.

When it hit, the world went silent.

Not quiet—silent. Complete absence of sound, as if the concept of noise had been temporarily erased. The void swallowed everything it touched, and Jaenor felt his shields being eaten away layer by layer.

He poured more power into them, drawing from reserves he hadn’t known he possessed. The merged energy flowed like a river, responding to his desperate need with quantities that should have been impossible.

His shields held. Barely.

When the void finally receded, when sound returned to the world, Jaenor stood in the center of a perfectly circular crater fifty feet across. Everything that had been there—grass, soil, even rocks buried deep—was simply gone. Erased at the fundamental level.

His companions were safe, protected within his shields. But he was gasping for breath, his merged power depleted to dangerous levels.

Draelusa stood at the crater’s edge, breathing hard himself. That attack had cost him significantly—even a Sin couldn’t manifest that level of power without consequence.

"We’re both running low," he observed. "This could continue for hours, with neither of us gaining decisive advantage. Or we could acknowledge that you’ve proven your point."

"My point?" Jaenor managed, still recovering.

"That you’re not easy prey. That claiming you as a vessel will require more effort than I’m willing to expend today." Draelusa’s human mask had fully reasserted now, showing nothing but calm calculation. "I’ll withdraw the legion. Frostvale is safe. For now."

"Why?" Jaenor demanded. "Why back down when you clearly have more power available?"

"Because," Draelusa said, "killing you is counterproductive. We need you alive for the resurrection. And because continuing this fight draws attention—other Sins, Magdalyna, possibly even Ascended beings. I’d rather avoid those complications."

He began backing away, toward where his legion waited in increasingly nervous formation.

"This isn’t over, Jaenor Arkwright. You’ve delayed the inevitable, proven you’re stronger than expected. But you can’t fight all Seven Sins simultaneously. You can’t protect every village, every person you care about."

"Watch me," Jaenor growled.

Draelusa laughed—genuine amusement mixed with dark promise.

"I will. We all will. And when you finally falter, when exhaustion or bad luck or sheer numbers overwhelm you—we’ll be waiting."

With that, he turned and walked back to his legion. Orders were shouted, and the massive force began withdrawing, retreating the way they’d come with the same disciplined efficiency they’d shown advancing.

Within minutes, they’d vanished into the forest, leaving only the devastation of the battlefield as evidence they’d been there at all.

Jaenor’s wings faded, his power receding as adrenaline drained away. He stood swaying slightly, and Rena was there immediately, supporting him before he could fall.

"You did it," she said quietly. "You fought a Sin and drove him off."

"I survived a Sin," Jaenor corrected. "There’s a difference."

He looked toward Frostvale in the distance, seeing smoke from cooking fires, signs of normal life continuing unaware of how close they’d come to annihilation.

"But they’re safe. That’s what matters."

Morgana approached, her healer’s hands already glowing as she assessed his injuries.

"You’re hurt. Multiple void burns, power depletion, internal damage from channeling that much energy. You need rest. Days of it, probably."

"We don’t have days," Jaenor said. "The northern breach—"

"Can wait a few hours while you recover enough to function," Morgana interrupted firmly. "You’ll do no one any good if you collapse mid-flight."

She was right, and Jaenor knew it. He nodded reluctantly.

"A few hours. Then we continue north."

They made camp on the crater’s edge, taking advantage of the cleared ground. Ba’narussa positioned herself protectively, her seven heads constantly scanning for threats.

As Jaenor rested, as Morgana worked to heal what could be healed immediately, he thought about the battle. About how close it had been, how much power Draelusa had held in reserve.

He’d won today. Driven off a Sin, protected Frostvale, proven he could stand against forces that should have overwhelmed him.

But Draelusa was right about one thing.

He couldn’t fight all Seven simultaneously. Couldn’t be everywhere at once, protecting every target.

The war was just beginning.

And he’d need more than raw power to survive it.

He’d need strategy. Allies. Resources.

And most of all, he’d need to become even stronger than he already was.

Because the next time he faced a Sin, they’d be prepared for what he’d become.

And he needed to be prepared for what they might become in response.

The storms were here.

And he was standing right in the middle of them.