They had ridden the entire day, the wind a constant, metallic sting. Emmet maintained his meditative pose, perched atop Cliff's back with arms crossed as Cliff streaked fast and low, his body a sleek, horizontal blur of muscle. Emmet meticulously charted the map, tracing their destination.

  "We head to this first base," Emmet directed.

  They arrived at a simple, abandoned village, which was quickly confirmed as a Cult hideout. Finding it deserted, Emmet carefully inspected the remaining items. "Definitely, all items belong to the demonic cult," Emmet confirmed. "Hmm, this truly is one of their hideouts. Then we have to check the others."

  Cliff groaned internally and muttered aloud, "Oh, flying to our next stop..."

  Cliff instantly felt the familiar punishment shock surge through his body. Emmet's voice was sharp. "No complaining."

  Cliff sighed and obeyed. The next base was empty. The third was the same. After the fifth one, Emmet spoke again.

  "...Cliff, you head back to Jasper and the others. I made a mistake." He explained his original plan. "Originally, I wanted to mislead the Inquisitors to one of the Cult's bases and let them fight. I don't think they're amateurs, though; they'll track and catch up quickly. Change of plan: I'll fight them head-on; you go back to Jasper."

  Cliff, despite the lure of freedom, had to object. "You won't survive them, Emmet. No matter how strong you think you are, the Inquisitors are on a different level. I've seen them in action. Each one possesses divinity and artifacts that could shatter a whole city. Aren't you afraid of death?"

  "Who isn't afraid of death?" Emmet countered, his gaze distant. "You fly fastest. If we go back together, it will only slow us down. Besides, I've already died more than once, so I can escape death another time." Emmet's voice dropped. "Just go."

  Cliff didn't bother to reply directly. He grunted and said, "Well, I guess that's for the best." Emmet's death, Cliff thought, caused his dark soul to stir—freedom from the invisible shackles Emmet had placed on him. Yet, a cold dread whispered that he wouldn't be able to fix the others if Emmet was dead.

  "Fine, I'll go," Cliff said aloud. "Try not to die."

  Cliff didn't wait for a reply. He flew as fast as he could and vanished toward Jasper's location.

  Emmet now remained alone. He had to intercept them. He counted his remaining rend crystals. He had to survive using them. He didn't plan on dying today. Emmet jumped and sprinted, moving with abnormal speed and power across the broken ground, heading toward the area he calculated would intersect with the Inquisitors' approach. He quickly found his vantage point: a high ground above a deep canyon. He waited there, knowing they would pass this path, giving him a clear view even from a distance. This is the perfect spot.

  Plan A: Attack them using the crystal spear from afar. Maybe they will turn back if they incur enough damage.

  Plan B: Escape? Nah, it's too late. There is no other choice: he has to fight.

  Then, from afar, he noticed a single figure—a man in silver armor with a cloak and metallic wings, resembling a dark angel. They can fly? Emmet realized. Ah, that's why they caught up easily. This is going to be hard.

  Emmet immediately summoned his Obsidian Totem, solidifying a huge, dense throwing spear. Next, he called forth a Hellfire Totem. "I haven't tried combining these before," Emmet muttered. This will consume too much rend energy, but he will seize the chance to give it a go.

  With a grunt of raw, monstrous strength, Emmet catapulted the spear. His own physical power alone could propel it far and fast, but he added another layer: the Obsidian Totem's inherent crystalline vibration energy accelerated its flight, almost creating a sonic boom. The hellfire imbued to it added a final, dark boost to its deadly velocity. He aimed, and launched it.

  The spear impacted the inquisitor's chakram with a tremendous, shuddering sound—the dying echo of a star, abruptly silenced—followed by a shockwave of cold, corrupt energy that reeked of ozone and burnt metal. The very air seemed to tear. The ground cracked for hundreds of yards around Adam as if the canyon itself had screamed in pain. Dust and debris shot skyward in a towering mushroom cloud, briefly obscuring the battleground.

  "Oh my, that was more powerful than I thought!" Emmet mused, momentarily stunned by the sheer devastation. Before he could recover, one of the Inquisitors was already above him, hurling a golden lance ten times its size. Emmet barely leapt sideways. The lance struck the earth, shattering the canyon floor.

  Then, a third Inquisitor summoned a dark hand. It was a shadow construct that emerged from the ground, yet it held surprising physical mass, not merely the feel of shade. It didn't just push him; it hit him with the weight of a falling mountain. Emmet felt his ribs scream, his lungs deflate against his will, and a blinding white flash scorched his vision as the force smashed him through every rock and hill in his path.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Emmet skidded to a stop, his body momentarily pinned. The giant dark hand hovered, ready to crush him. With a desperate burst of raw physical strength, Emmet twisted, not fighting the hand, but flowing with its momentum. He converted its downward pressure into a lateral leap, outmaneuvering the crushing grip and rolling behind a massive, fractured slab of canyon wall.

  Three versus one, Emmet thought, spitting dust and blood. Clearly, this is an extreme disadvantage. I wasn't prepared for this kind of fight. He carefully analyzed his foes, searching for a flaw he couldn't see. Their teamwork is phenomenal; they possess perfect synergy for defense and offense.

  The leader with the chakram—Adam—wears his power like a halo. Judging from the way he shielded his allies, this guy is a controlling type, a good strategist with battle experience. His chakram prevents Emmet from using his spears at range.

  The other guy, Altare, with the lance seems tough and fast. In terms of raw strength, he’s nothing compared to Emmet, but his artifacts and Divinity easily suppress him. And the woman, Amaris, who wields the shadow divinity—she is clearly an Eclipseborne. The shadow mage commands both defensive and offensive skills, and she can cover the range attack. Emmet needs to keep moving.

  He thought of his rend crystals and the limited supply he carried. His Hellfire is eclipsed by their holy light, and his Obsidian Crystal constructions, though usually strong, feel like brittle glass in front of their raw, radiant power. His finite reserve won't be enough against the Inquisitors, so he must budget his remaining resources carefully. He gritted his teeth. He's still at a massive disadvantage even if he relies purely on his strength and martial prowess. He needs to force an opening.

  The man who had thrown the giant lance spoke. "You okay there, Adam?"

  "Yeah, I'm good," Adam replied, shaking off the hit. "Good thing it is made of corrupted energy; my chakram negated much of its damage. What's the status there, Altare?"

  Altare replied, his voice taut, "Amaris got him."

  Adam appeared near Emmet, who was still struggling to stand. "You're strong," Adam conceded, "too bad you're using demonic energy. A perfect counter to our holy light." Emmet considered shouting a denial. The thought hit him, knowing the Luminaries generally don't listen to pleas, but perhaps he should try. "I am not a member of the Cult!" he shouted.

  "Oh? Then why did you attack us? And you can't deny this demonic power you have."

  Emmet summoned four more Hellfire Totems and launched fire toward the Inquisitors. Adam’s chakram duplicated, creating a shield. Altare raised his divine shield. Amaris spoke for the first time, her voice cold and resonant. "Your fire is tainted, Heretic. It merely warms our skin."

  Adam began to speak, but Emmet was already in front of him and drove his fist into Adam's face, sending him hurtling. Altare’s discipline frayed. That was a pure force strike. This man battles like a barbarian, not a Heretic. He is abnormally strong. He needs discipline, not questioning. Altare immediately engaged Emmet with a lance coated in Warrior Divinity, but Emmet’s crystal wall was easily splintered.

  Adam returned, holy energy sealing his fractured jaw. He glared at Emmet, his pride burning. That monster! That punch almost killed him if not for his Divinity. His voice was laced with cold fury: "How dare you!" He immediately snapped a command: "Let's not waste time." Altare and Amaris moved instantly, initiating a divine skill.

  Amaris cast her shadows beneath Emmet’s feet, forming a Pool of Divination, spiritually mapping his deepest weaknesses. Next, Adam erected the Pillars of Testimony—a geometric prison custom-built for his destruction, one pillar emitting an anti-magic field to silence his totems. The Altar-Lid manifested above the cage and slammed down, pressing Emmet with the suffocating, crushing weight of divine law.

  Inside the Bastille, Emmet’s powers failed. The anti-magic field instantly negated his Hellfire Totems, and his rend crystals crumbled to dust. All he could rely on was his raw physical strength. Emmet gouged his boots into the earth, roaring as he fought the invisible, crushing force.

  Adam glared. "Keep the cage up," he commanded. He then began preparing his ultimate skill: Lex Divina. "Let's end this," he stated.

  Adam unfolded the chakrams from the fabric of reality itself. Three rings of blazing white gold began to orbit him—The Word, The Law, and The Judgment. The chakrams compressed divine light into an incandescent white thread, hotter than a star's core, imprinting the verdict: "You Are Unmade." The condensed light shot forward, aimed at Emmet.

  Adam watched the attack converge. This man is too strong, and it's risky to let him live, he thought. Too bad you are going to be purged today.

  The holy energy formed a shining Judgment Arrow of Light above Emmet. Emmet looked up at the terrifying, absolute light. "Not good," he whispered. "Is this the end of me?"

  He let out a tired sigh. He would accept this fate if it was truly his end. There are powers that are beyond him. He was truly a little mote of dust in the eye of a desert storm. His strength failed; he lost all will to resist. He knelt, accepting his fate. In that final moment, the only sound was the faint, high-pitched hum of the Lex Divina’s light. "I hope Cliff made it back safe. Too bad I haven't cured the others. I'm sorry. Eanne, I can't save you now." He waited for the divine judgment.

  Then, suddenly, the sky shuddered and the clouds darkened. A streak of black lightning tore through the sky, crashing down and instantly obliterating the Lex Divina as if it were nothing. The massive sphere of absolute blackness erupted, striking them with a concussive force that felt like a god had pushed them aside. Adam tumbled, his armor skidding across the stone. He didn't think; he simply scrambled back, his mind screaming one terrifying name: Chaos.

  Emmet was enclosed in the massive dark sphere. The three Inquisitors immediately retreated far from the chaotic epicenter.

  Chaos Sphere, Adam thought, his silver armor tense. A Chaos Divinity? A Chaos Being... such power...

  Altare stared at the black sphere with wide, fearful eyes. The three Inquisitors wondered if the unknown being was defending the man they fought or if it was swallowing him. "What now?" he asked Adam.

  Adam's voice was low and cautious. "Is this the Darklord himself? If this thing was protecting him, then who is the man we just fought?" Adam was just assuming. "Hold your positions. This power is far beyond us. We keep our distance and remain on high guard."