The battlefield was scorched and trembling.
Aetherius and the remaining five elders stood at the center of a storm—a whirlwind of spiritual energy spiraling around them. The peak had crumbled into chaos; trees torn from their roots, stone pillars shattered, the heavens groaning from the sheer weight of power being unleashed.
And yet, amidst it all…
Clark SanJose still stood.
Blood ran down his arms in rivulets, soaking into the torn fabric of his robes. Cuts and burns covered his body, his breath ragged and shallow. His hair fluttered wildly, and his Red Demon Eyes glowed like twin torches in the twilight.
Aetherius wiped a trail of blood from the edge of his mouth.
"You've lasted longer than I expected… and wounded more than I allowed."
Around him, the Elders were in disarray. Elder Ragnor was on his knees, coughing up blood. Elder Kanzo lay slumped, unmoving. Two others were clutching each other, barely staying upright.
Clark was swaying, every breath an act of rebellion.
Then, he whispered, "No more holding back."
He raised his hand to his heart—and plunged his fingers into his chest, straight into his Inner Core.
Aetherius's eyes widened. "You fool—what are you—!?"
Clark roared, and a blinding light erupted from his body. The clouds above twisted, the winds recoiled, and the earth beneath the mountain trembled in reverence—or fear.
"Forbidden Path— Self Sacrifice: Scarlet Annihilation Bloom."
It was his final technique.
Clark ignited his very essence—his vitality, his years of cultivation, all condensed into a singular burst of wrath and truth.
A massive sigil bloomed beneath his feet, etched in crimson and gold, spiraling outward with raw, unstable energy.
"From ashes to end…" Clark murmured.
"Let this be… your reckoning!"
The explosion that followed split the sky in half.
A wave of red fire and spiritual entropy engulfed the peak—incinerating the cliffside, turning stone into molten glass. The Elders were hurled like leaves in a typhoon. Two screamed as they were consumed instantly, their bodies unable to withstand the sacrifice's purity.
Even Aetherius was forced to shield his body with layered domains—his outer robe vaporized, and a slash of energy tore across his chest, drawing blood.
When the inferno cleared, the battlefield was silent.
Clark knelt near the cliff's edge, swaying like a broken reed.
His skin was pale—translucent—and his aura was nearly gone.
Aetherius floated before him, stunned… but grinning.
He touched his wound and nodded.
"…Incredible," the Clan Leader said. "Even I could not predict you would grow this much."
He looked down at Clark with a mixture of regret and admiration.
"You truly are the genius of this century."
Clark chuckled hoarsely. "Then… why try to kill me?"
"Because genius threatens order," Aetherius replied coldly. "And I am… the keeper of order."
Behind him, the surviving elders—bloodied, some unconscious—groaned and writhed in agony. One clutched the remains of a shattered body. The cost of Clark's final defiance was steep.
But so was the toll on the boy himself.
Clark took one last look at the battlefield—then turned to the cliff.
Behind him, Aetherius stepped forward.
"There's nowhere left to run, Clark."
Clark sighed, his voice low. "I know."
He took a step back—his heel now on air.
The wind howled again.
"…Then I'll stop running."
And he let go.
His body fell backward, arms open like wings.
Aetherius's eyes widened. "NO!"
He lunged—but the distance was too great, the explosion too recent. His hands closed on empty air as Clark's form vanished below the clouds, swallowed by the endless chasm below.
Silence.
Aetherius stood frozen at the edge, fists trembling.
"…Damn you, boy," he whispered, voice tight with rage… and sorrow.
Far below, the abyss swallowed all sound.
The only thing that remained… was red mist curling into the wind, like the final breath of a dying flame.
Chapter Ends.