Chapter 523: Inevitable IX
Naval’s shout cut like thunder through the grinding silence.
He spun his trident, leaping into the pull of the Maw instead of away from it. The sea’s fury roared through his veins, and a spiral of tidal resonance exploded outward from his weapon.
"Then drown on me!"
The surge was not mere water—it was the oath of the deep, the unbroken rhythm of storms that had never yielded. It crashed into Glothar’s devouring pull, forcing the black fire to choke on the taste of an ocean that would not end.
Glothar’s helm snapped toward him, crimson slits narrowing. The Maw behind the Sovereign expanded, drinking in the tide, grinding it into mist. But as the hunger pulled, Roselia thrust her staff forward, her flame weaving through the ocean like blossoms in a storm.
Her hymn rose, her voice raw yet resolute. "Flame that burns beyond endings—ignite what cannot be swallowed!"
The water blazed, each droplet blooming into a rose of fire. The hunger gagged, turning the feast into ash before it could be devoured.
Liliana’s threads lanced outward, cutting through the collapsing void. She bound Leon’s fractures tighter, weaving them into a lattice that glowed like a spiderweb spun from defiance itself. Her voice shook, but her will did not.
"If you’ll fall apart, then I’ll make even your ruin a shield."
Roman barreled through the collapsing ground, fists blazing like anvils of thunder. He slammed them together, the shockwave resonating in perfect counterpoint with Leon’s Fifth Pulse. The cracks across Leon’s body pulsed, not as wounds, but as spears of resonance that stabbed outward, striking Glothar’s devouring blade again and again.
The void itself trembled under the clash.
Above, Milim burned like a newborn star. Her flames flared into wings, her body nothing but incandescent light. She bellowed, hurling herself down like a falling sun.
"Glothar! If you’re the Maw—then try this bite!"
Her impact came like a meteor, slamming into the Sovereign’s helm just as Leon’s fractures howled with amplified resonance. For the first time, Glothar staggered. His blade sputtered, the black flame guttering like a candle in the wind.
The void-floor cracked. The Maw’s pull wavered. For a breath, inevitability itself faltered.
Leon’s chest heaved, his grin bloody and bright. His fractured rings blazed as he thrust his hand forward, his voice carrying the echo of all of them together.
"Fracture Requiem—Resonant Collapse!"
The world split. Possibilities screamed into being. Threads of reality broke free of inevitability and unraveled Glothar’s hunger at its roots.
The Maw convulsed. The devouring blade cracked down its length, flames of swallowed thrones flaring in chaotic defiance. Glothar’s helm tilted back, the first hint of strain rasping through his guttural voice.
"...Impossible."
But Leon only bared his teeth, blood and light spilling down his jaw.
"No—inevitable!"
And the clash roared brighter, as Sovereign and Flamebreaker tore the void into shards of ending and refusal.
The void howled like a throat torn open.
Resonance shattered in jagged chords, fragments of worlds screaming past as Glothar and Leon’s clash split reality down to its marrow.
The devouring blade cracked further, black flame spraying like liquid shadow. Glothar’s massive frame bent beneath the pressure, helm tilted back as if even inevitability itself strained to hold.
But the recoil hit Leon like a hammer.
His fractures spread in a lightning storm across his chest and down his legs. Blood spattered into the void, glowing white-red where it touched the broken air. His breath came ragged, each inhale tearing his ribs wider.
"Leon!" Roselia cried. She thrust her staff forward, fire rushing out in a desperate wave—but the flame frayed into nothing before it could reach him, eaten by the lingering maw-pull.
Liliana’s threads snapped taut around his body, binding crack after crack, her voice trembling with every stitch.
"Hold—hold together—damn you, don’t you break now!"
Naval planted himself beside Leon, his trident braced like a pillar. Tidal resonance surged from him, not to attack, but to steady Leon’s collapsing rhythm. "Stay upright, Flamebreaker. If you fall, we all drown."
Roman roared, fists slamming into the void-floor. The shockwave anchored them all, a brutal counterweight against the hunger still pulling them toward the Sovereign.
"Keep fighting it! If you falter now, he takes everything!"
Milim, still burning like a star, dove low and slammed her palm against Leon’s back. Her flame wrapped around him, not as a strike, but as fuel. "Borrow it—burn through me if you have to!"
The Fifth Pulse writhed inside Leon, unstable and wild. Resonant Collapse had torn inevitability open for a heartbeat, but the recoil was dragging him down with it. His fractures screamed louder, light spilling like a river from beneath his skin.
And Glothar rose again.
The Sovereign straightened, the cracked devouring blade still clutched in his gauntlet. The Maw behind him shuddered wider, black fire belching forth in a thousand voices of devoured thrones.
The helm tilted, crimson slits blazing brighter. His voice rolled like thunder through bone:
"Good. You tear yourself apart beautifully. But the Maw does not stop. It becomes."
The devouring blade split fully in his hand. Instead of shattering, it unraveled into molten shadow, flowing upward into his body. The cracks across his armor burst into streams of black fire as Glothar spread his arms.
The Maw behind him collapsed inward—then bloomed outward again, larger, vaster, no longer a rift but a crown of endless hunger.
"You thought you fought a Sovereign." His voice was no longer only Glothar’s, but a chorus of every swallowed throne. "But I am not Glothar alone. I am the Maw."
The void shook like a drumbeat struck by the end of all songs.
Leon staggered, blood running freely, his allies holding him upright by thread, fire, tide, and brute force. His cracked rings spun, dim but defiant.
"...Then I’ll fracture the Maw itself."
The Fifth Pulse flared again, unstable, demanding release.
The Maw’s crown burned across the horizon, black fire unfurling like wings made of extinction. Each flame was a memory of something devoured—worlds swallowed, thrones silenced, wills broken. The chorus of voices within it rose, a tidal hymn of endings.
Leon’s knees buckled, his body a map of fissures glowing white-hot. The Fifth Pulse clawed at his chest like a beast rattling its cage, begging to be freed without restraint. Every heartbeat threatened to rip him apart from the inside.
Naval’s trident jammed harder into the void-floor, anchoring the group against the Maw’s gravitational pull. His voice thundered with the weight of seas.
"Leon—don’t give in to collapse yet. Ride it, damn you. Ride it!"