Episode-235

Words : 1625 Updated : Oct 1st, 2025

Chapter : 469 “Fang Fairy,” his mental command was a sharp, clear signal, a commander issuing new orders in the heat of battle. New pattern. No more direct assaults. You are the distraction. The scalpel. Your speed is our greatest asset. Harry its flanks. Draw the attention of the lion’s head and the serpent tail. Force it to split its focus. I will handle the ranged threats and create the opening you need. A flicker of understanding, of shared, strategic purpose, flowed back through their bond. Fang Fairy moved, no longer a direct thunderbolt, but a flowing river of storm-grey and azure light. She became a ghost, a blur, weaving through the scattered debris of the office, her movements a disorienting, unpredictable dance. She didn't attack directly, but feinted, darted, her presence a constant, irritating threat at the periphery of the chimera’s senses. Azgoth roared in frustration, the lion’s head snapping towards her, its massive, shadow-clawed paws swiping at the empty air where she had been a fraction of a second before. The serpent tail lashed out, a black, coiling whip, smashing against the stone floor, sending shards of rock flying. But Fang Fairy was already gone, a streak of light on the other side of the room, her very presence a constant, maddening taunt. While she drew the beast’s primary attention, Lloyd acted. He was no longer the stationary commander. He moved, his own body a fluid shadow, using the overturned tables, the stacks of crates, as cover. He raised his hands, and the air around him shimmered with the cold, hard light of his Steel Blood. This was not a time for brute-force chains. This was a time for surgical precision. Dozens of whisper-thin, almost invisible, steel wires erupted from his fingertips. But they did not target the chimera’s main body. They shot upwards, towards the low, vaulted cellar ceiling. With a series of sharp, almost inaudible thwips, they embedded themselves in the crumbling mortar between the stone blocks, creating an intricate, deadly web that crisscrossed the entire room, a silent, shimmering canopy of razor-edged potential. Jacob Croft, still cackling with glee at his monster’s apparent dominance, didn't even notice. But the goat and ram heads on the chimera’s back, their red eyes glowing with a malevolent intelligence, did. They sensed the new threat from above. The goat head let out a sharp, bleating cry and spat a glob of its corrosive ichor, not at Lloyd, but upwards, at the shimmering web. The black, sizzling acid struck one of the wires. There was a sharp hiss, a puff of acrid smoke, and the steel filament, superheated and impossibly sharp, dissolved, eaten away by the unnatural, corrupting acid. So, the acid negates the steel, Lloyd noted dispassionately. A problem. But a solvable one. He didn’t try to reinforce the web. He changed tactics again. He focused his will, and a single, thicker, more robust chain of steel shot from his hand, not at the chimera, but at one of the massive, bubbling cauldrons of counterfeit soap. The chain wrapped around the cauldron’s thick iron leg and pulled, a sharp, brutal yank. With a tortured groan of protesting metal, the massive, three-hundred-gallon cauldron, filled with boiling, corrosive sludge, tipped. It crashed to the floor with a deafening, echoing boom, its foul, superheated contents spilling across the cellar in a tidal wave of stinking, bluish-grey filth. The chimera roared in surprise and annoyance as the hot, viscous liquid washed over its paws. It wasn't enough to cause serious damage to its magically protected form, but it was a distraction. A messy, disorienting, and deeply, profoundly, undignified one. The floor became a treacherous, slippery mire of hot, poisonous soap. And in that moment of distraction, Lloyd struck. He focused his will, his Black Ring Eyes, hidden behind the blank white mask, flaring with a cold, ethereal light. He did not target the chimera’s senses; he had already learned that was a difficult, high-cost gambit. He targeted something simpler. Something physical. A single, shimmering, bluish-white ring of pure, constricting energy snapped into existence around the base of the chimera’s lashing serpent tail. The serpent hissed in surprise and pain as the ring tightened, a band of pure, irresistible force crushing its shadowy, scaled form. It thrashed wildly, its powerful coils spasming, its focus momentarily ripped away from Fang Fairy. Now! Lloyd’s mental command was a thunderclap. Fang Fairy, who had been waiting for this exact opening, moved. She was no longer a feinting ghost. She was a bolt of pure, divine judgment. The air ripped with the shriek of a thousand birds as she launched herself, not at the struggling tail, but at the suddenly exposed, momentarily unprotected, ram’s head on the chimera’s back. The Thousand Chirp Strike, a concentrated, incandescent point of azure lightning, slammed directly into the base of the ram’s crystalline horns. Chapter : 470 The impact was devastating. The black, light-absorbing crystal, which had seemed so unbreakable, shattered with a sound like a thousand wine glasses exploding at once. The ram’s head let out a single, silent, agonized bleat, its red eyes extinguishing like dying embers, before its entire upper torso dissolved into a cloud of dissipating black smoke and glittering, crystalline dust. A wave of pure, spiritual agony ripped through the chimera. It let out a terrible, layered roar of pain, staggering sideways, its coordination shattered, its body thrashing in a frenzy of agony and rage. The constriction ring around its tail flickered and vanished as Lloyd’s concentration was momentarily broken by the sheer, violent feedback. They had wounded it. Seriously wounded it. They had severed one of its heads, crippled one of its attack vectors. But the battle was far from over. The chimera, now driven by a pure, unadulterated, wounded fury, was even more dangerous. The remaining lion and goat heads turned, their eyes, now blazing with a new, terrifying, focused hatred, locking directly onto Lloyd. It had identified the true source of its pain. Not the flashing wolf. But the quiet, white-masked figure who wielded the impossible, crushing rings and the subtle, invisible threads of command. With a roar that shook the very foundations of the cellar, the wounded, enraged Black Spirit charged, no longer toying, no longer testing. It charged to kill. The wounded chimera was a force of pure, primal rage. Its charge was not the clumsy lumbering of before, but a terrifying, ground-shaking stampede, its remaining heads—the roaring lion and the hissing, ichor-spitting goat—focused with a singular, murderous intent on the white-masked figure who had dared to cripple it. The stone floor cracked under its heavy, shadow-clawed paws, the treacherous, soapy sludge splashing up in foul, corrosive waves. Lloyd stood his ground, his mind a vortex of cold, rapid-fire calculation. The previous strike had been successful, but costly. The effort of maintaining the binding ring while Fang Fairy delivered the blow had taxed his Void reserves. The battle of attrition he had initiated was now working against him. The chimera, while wounded, was still immensely powerful, fueled by Jacob Croft’s desperate, soul-burning pact. He and Fang Fairy needed to end this. Now. With a single, decisive, and absolute, finishing blow. The Spear of Justice. It was their ultimate weapon, their ace in the hole. But it required time. A few precious, uninterrupted seconds of focus to build the blueprint, to channel the immense power. Seconds he did not have with a wounded, enraged, interdimensional nightmare-beast charging at him. Fang Fairy! Lloyd’s mental command was a sharp, desperate, and utterly trusting, roar. I need a window! Three seconds! That’s all! Blind it! Stun it! Give me three seconds, no matter the cost! A wave of pure, fierce, unwavering loyalty flowed back through their bond, a silent, absolute affirmation. Three seconds, Master. You will have them. As the charging chimera closed the final distance, its lion’s maw gaping, ready to tear, its goat’s head preparing to spit a final, point-blank blast of corrosive ichor, Fang Fairy moved. She was no longer a feinting ghost, a harassing scalpel. She was a sacrifice. A living shield of storm and light. She launched herself directly into the path of the charging beast. And as she flew, she unleashed the full, untamed power of her Ascended form. Her Lightning Cloak erupted, not as a defensive nimbus, but as an offensive, omnidirectional explosion of pure, blinding energy. With a deafening, world-shattering CRACK-BOOM, a sphere of brilliant, incandescent azure light detonated from her form, a miniature sun of pure lightning. It was not a piercing strike; it was a sensory overload, a flashbang of divine, elemental proportions. The chimera, caught completely off guard, roared in agony as the blinding light and concussive, electrical force slammed into it. The lion’s and goat’s heads both squeezed their eyes shut, momentarily blinded, their roars turning to howls of pain and confusion. The charge faltered, the beast stumbling, disoriented, its senses overwhelmed by the sheer, violent purity of the lightning. It was a window. A single, precious, three-second window, bought with a massive expenditure of Fang Fairy’s own spiritual energy. Lloyd saw her ethereal form flicker violently from the effort, a testament to the immense cost of the gambit. But she had given him what he needed. Lloyd did not waste a fraction of a second. His mind became a fortress of absolute, unwavering focus. He ignored the blinding afterimage of the flash, ignored the screaming protest of his own reserves. He built the blueprint. He envisioned the spear. Perfect. Dense. Unstoppable. Its tip a point of pure, conceptual sharpness. Its shaft a contained hurricane of churning, azure lightning. Its purpose: not to wound, not to disable, but to utterly, comprehensively, annihilate. To deliver judgment.

Episode-235

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