Chapter 113 : Cost of power

Chapter 113: Chapter 113 : Cost of power

The words left his mouth before he had fully formed the thought. They were quiet, almost casual, but they carried the weight of absolute conviction.

Then he launched forward.

The ground beneath his feet exploded outward, cracks spiderwebbing across the obsidian surface as the force of his departure shattered the stone. His body became a blur, a streak of motion that crossed the distance between himself and Asmodeus in the space between heartbeats.

NIVARETH whistled as it cut through the air.

"Theon! There’s no need to do this!"

Ifrith’s voice cut through the chaos, filled with alarm and something that might have been desperation. He had seen what Asmodeus was capable of and had witnessed the Primordial Demon’s power firsthand, had felt the weight of centuries pressing down on him. This wasn’t a battle Theon should be attempting—not like this, not alone, not against an enemy who had survived for millennia.

Theon didn’t stop.

He didn’t even turn around.

His body continued its trajectory, his eyes fixed on the target ahead. The wind whipped past him, carrying the scent of ozone and destruction, but he paid it no attention. There was only the enemy. Only the blade in his hand. Only the moment that stretched before him like a thread waiting to be cut.

"Stay out of it, he hurt Lyra he must pay."

The words were cold, final, carrying an edge that brooked no argument. This wasn’t recklessness or ignorance. This was a conscious decision, a choice made with full awareness of the consequences.

Theon was choosing to fight.

The distance between them closed in a split second.

Asmodeus barely had time to react. His eyes widened—genuine surprise flickering across his ancient features—as Theon appeared before him like a specter made flesh.

Theon swung NIVARETH with everything behind the attack.

The blade connected.

BOOM!

The impact released a shockwave that rippled outward across the battlefield. The air itself seemed to scream as the force of the strike propagated through the atmosphere, sending debris flying in all directions. The sound was deafening, a thunderclap that echoed off the distant mountains and rolled across the devastated landscape.

Asmodeus was hurled backward.

His body tore through the air at tremendous speed, his form a dark blur against the darkened sky. He crashed into a massive rock formation that had somehow survived the earlier destruction, the impact sending cracks spiderwebbing across its surface.

The enormous rock shattered partially from the collision.

Dust and debris exploded outward, obscuring the Primordial Demon from view. For a moment, there was only silence—the heavy, waiting silence of a battlefield holding its breath.

Then Asmodeus emerged.

He was embedded against the stone, his body pressed into the surface by the force of the impact. His expression revealed something unexpected.

Weakness.

Not serious injury, not the kind of damage that would threaten his existence. But Theon’s attack had actually hurt him. The Primordial Demon’s composure had cracked, replaced by something that looked almost like surprise.

*I bet he didn’t expect me to be able to do that.*

The thought filled Theon with cold satisfaction. He had landed a blow. He had made Asmodeus feel something other than contempt. It was a small victory, a tiny crack in the armor of invincibility that the Primordial Demon had worn for millennia.

But it was enough.

Before Asmodeus could fully recover, Theon launched himself forward again.

He gripped NIVARETH tightly, his fingers wrapped around the hilt with desperate intensity. His body shot through the dust cloud that still hung in the air, his eyes fixed on the target ahead.

He prepared another strike.

This time, the attack never landed.

Asmodeus extended one hand, his palm open, his fingers spread wide. NIVARETH stopped in mid-air, the blade completely immobilized as if it had struck an invisible wall.

Theon was still airborne, his body suspended in the moment of attack, his eyes widening as he realized what had happened.

Asmodeus looked at him.

Then, using only one hand, the Primordial Demon grabbed Theon and violently swung him away.

Theon was hurled across the battlefield like a discarded toy. His body crashed into the opposite side, the impact sending shockwaves of pain through his limbs. He skidded across the ground, debris rising around him in a cloud of dust and stone, his fingers still clutching NIVARETH despite the violence of the impact. In that moment, the power gap became brutally obvious.

*What just happened. Did he just caught my attack. With one hand. And threw me like I weighed nothing.*

Theon struggled to his knees, blood trickling from a cut on his forehead. He looked up at Asmodeus, his chest heaving, his body screaming with pain.

The Primordial Demon was barely winded.

Asmodeus slowly turned toward Theon.

His expression darkened.

His fist tightened, his fingers curling into a fist with deliberate slowness. The casual indifference that had defined his demeanor moments before was gone, replaced by something far more dangerous.

Anger.

The Primordial Demon raised both arms, his palms facing the sky, his eyes blazing with ancient fury.

"Enough of this game."

The words carried weight. They weren’t spoken—they were declared, proclaimed, announced to the world like a judgment from on high. The atmosphere suddenly changed, the air itself growing heavy with pressure.

The battlefield became unnaturally quiet.

Then Asmodeus began floating upward.

Higher.

Higher.

Until he was suspended above everyone, his form silhouetted against the darkened sky.

Asmodeus raised his hands toward the heavens.

Then he spoke the incantation.

"Nivalthuros Javlis."

The words echoed across the battlefield, ancient and terrible, resonating with power that predated the world itself. Theon felt them in his bones, felt the weight of centuries pressing down on him as the spell began to take form.

The already-dark night sky became even darker.

Not simply cloudy or stormy. Darkness itself seemed to consume the sky, swallowing the light like a void opening to devour everything. There was no visible moon. No stars. No source of light anywhere in the heavens.

The entire battlefield was swallowed by darkness.

Then—

BOOM!

Lightning struck.

Then another.

Then dozens.

Then hundreds.

Lightning began appearing throughout the sky around Asmodeus, bolts of raw elemental power tearing through the darkness like wounds in the fabric of reality. They weren’t random—they were being drawn toward a central point, converging on the space above the Primordial Demon’s outstretched hands.

A massive sphere began forming above him.

The lightning condensed into the enormous sphere, its surface crackling with barely contained power. Then the atmosphere around it began compressing, the air itself bending around the growing mass.

The pressure became suffocating.

Then fire began forming around the sphere, flames twisting around the lightning like serpents of destruction. Earth rose from below, massive chunks of stone pulled into the formation by forces beyond comprehension. Water began spiraling around the growing catastrophe, its surface reflecting the chaos within.

All five elements began merging.

Lightning. Air. Fire. Earth. Water.

The result was an enormous cataclysmic elemental sphere, a miniature apocalypse suspended above the battlefield. It looked less like an ordinary spell and more like the end of the world given form.

The surrounding environment began reacting to it.

Trees bent. Rocks cracked. The ground trembled and the air became almost impossible to breathe, thick with pressure and heat and the promise of annihilation.

Ifrith looked upward.

His expression changed completely.

He recognized what Asmodeus was preparing. This wasn’t an attack meant to defeat someone—it was an attack meant to erase everything in its path. The kind of spell that didn’t leave survivors nor leave anything at all.

"We need to leave here! All of us! Right now!"

His voice carried across the battlefield, urgent and desperate. He had seen this before and had witnessed the aftermath of such power, had stood in the ruins of Kingdoms that had been reduced to dust. This was not a battle that could be won through courage or determination.

Theon looked toward the enormous sphere, its surface crackling with elemental fury. Even he realized how dangerous it was, how impossible it would be to survive if it descended.

"I also support that."

For once, Theon agreed completely with Ifrith.

They needed to escape.

Before anyone could move—

Asmodeus looked down.

A faint smile appeared on his face.

"No one is leaving here."

He raised his hand higher and the magical energy around him suddenly spread outward. A gigantic barrier began forming around the battlefield, walls of energy rising from the ground and connecting with the sky.

"Demon’s domain."

A barrier closed in around them.

The entire battlefield became sealed.

No escape. No teleportation. No running through the walls. Everyone inside was trapped, their fates bound to the catastrophe that loomed above them.

Theon felt the barrier settle around them like a cage, its presence pressing against his senses. He could feel its strength, its permanence, its absolute refusal to let anything pass through.

He’s sealing us in. With him. With that thing.

The realization was cold and terrible.

Ifrith looked upward at Asmodeus.

Despite the terrifying situation, he didn’t look afraid. Instead, he looked almost disappointed.

"You really are a fool, you know."

Asmodeus looked down, his expression unchanged.

Ifrith continued, his voice carrying the weight of past knowledge. "You’re willing to destroy everything—including yourself—just to make sure he doesn’t escape."

Asmodeus responded, his voice calm and matter-of-fact.

"It’s best we all die together than for any one of you to escape."

The line revealed just how far the Primordial Demon would go. He wasn’t merely trying to kill Theon—he was willing to destroy the entire battlefield, sacrifice everyone within it, and potentially risk his own existence to guarantee Theon’s death.

The desperation behind the decision was almost palpable.

Ifrith looked at the enormous spell.

Then he said, his voice carrying an edge of accusation.

"You know the cost of that power you’re using."