Life Number 0-Chapter 34: The Fate
The King of Vardisia shattered the spear, freeing himself, but his breaths were labored, his body trembling, nearly collapsing to the ground. Egologia was in the sky, drawing closer and closer...
"Hah, Your Majesty..." His voice dripped with mockery. "You look like a scarecrow now... What happened to you? A sack of grain devoured by birds?"
His eyes narrowed as he descended slowly. "A foolish decision to let me live... Even lowly creatures like you have their pride and traditions, don’t they?"
The king panted, watching him approach, as if preparing for something.
"That damned iguana..." the king said hoarsely. "I should have killed you myself... The fire element... I wanted the captive iguana to kill you... It’s the only one that wouldn’t be affected by your flames..." He lifted his head with difficulty, his body bleeding icy heat. "I suppose I will burn because of this... You are more chaotic than I expected."
Egologia smiled dangerously. "Of course, I am. And now, you’re filling my head with your drivel... Are you charging up your energy?" He pursed his lips in disdain. "Unfortunately, that rule... I don’t support it."
And as he descended quietly, he suddenly shot forward like a flash.
The king opened his mouth to unleash a cyclonic roar, his head spinning violently, lashing everything around him with a deadly storm of ice. But Egologia was faster. He appeared in an instant with a swift side kick to the king’s face, shutting his mouth forcefully, then dropped to the ground, following up with a precise punch to his hardened abdomen, lifting his body into the air.
He didn’t give him a chance to breathe—Egologia’s fists came together and hammered down on his body like a sledgehammer, crushing him into the ground. Then, with two kicks, a double strike, he sent him flying away as if relishing tearing him apart more and more...
The king screamed... "Perish, human... Perish!" He enlarged his hand into massive icy claws and lunged. Egologia leaped back as the claws struck the ground, causing freezing explosions to burst in every direction.
One of them caught Egologia’s leg, but before it could freeze him completely, he detonated it with a sudden burst, crimson threads spilling from his leg as he continued flying with his wings without pause.
The king created an icy wall beneath him, ascending swiftly through it, as giant ice arms formed from the rising frost, launching in every direction.
But Egologia surged forward, only to be swatted down by one of the arms. He crashed into the ground, and through the rising dust, icy arrows shot in, scattering the haze—no sign of the crimson demon...
And when he reached the king, he headbutted him like a nail being driven in, sending them both flying out of the icy chaos, slamming him into the ground with force.
Egologia lunged again to deliver a finishing blow... but no, he retreated at the last moment, startled by a sharp surge of ice erupting from that very spot.
The king’s reaction was delayed... Egologia shot toward him, summoning the crimson sword, shattering the wall into glass-like shards that rained down like a storm... but the king had vanished.
Suddenly, the shards clustered into a single point, rapidly forming an icy fist that struck Egologia’s face directly, shattering his nose gruesomely and hurling him backward, dragging across the ground, bleeding profusely.
He stood and stepped back, but before he could regain his composure, he saw the shards condensing further, forming the very image of the king himself.
"Damn... What is he trying to achieve?"
Even the king himself was surprised at his speed of evolution, his body turning into a spectral frost, lunging like a ghost, his sharp hand swinging down on Egologia... but he dodged low, followed by a barrage of punches... no, stabs, striking beneath the icy arm, shattering it completely.
The shards now scattered, dispersing everything, but before he could process it, the area turned into a swirling vortex, ice crashing into him, shocking him with every strike—there was no escape from this storm.
Then, in a single moment, all the shards launched, piercing his body midair, and now he was falling—before even touching the ground, a massive ghostly palm struck him, sending him flying again, then pulling him back into the air with the current, only to be launched once more. The slaps continued relentlessly.
A colossal face formed, the king’s figure becoming incomprehensible, turning into a nightmare playing with him...
And with a pained scream, "[Vortex-Maga]!" 𝐟𝐫𝕖𝗲𝘄𝚎𝗯𝕟𝐨𝕧𝐞𝚕.𝕔𝕠𝐦
The Vortex gate formed behind him, in an instant absorbing the storm, pulling all the elemental fragments into it.
He carried nothing, relying instead on the immense mana he inherited, along with his sweeping offensive movements. He wore a long golden coat, ready to pounce at any moment. Facing them was the bull Howard, nickConamed "The Collapse ," with a vile smile as steam rose from his nostrils with every inhale and exhale. He lowed slowly, then addressed them in a contemptuous tone: "You know, Golden Boy... Since the old king’s departure... this kingdom hasn’t been the same. Immortality has been broken—even that of the one always deemed the strongest, Valeras... perished... in a way no one understood." Silan furrowe
Morgan looked around; there were no corpses. No remains. Only dust. The air was thick with it, a grim reminder of the bodies that had vanished. The human warriors were gone, leaving nothing but this fine, ashen residue on the barren surface. Morgan could see it. He could feel them, even
Egologia laughed. "Old man, you can’t grasp my arsenal!" He dropped to the ground, freed from the strange storm, then stepped back, watching the king struggle against the Vortex.
looked down, would have felt regret—but he didn’t. So, what was this feeling? Was it emptiness? No, emptiness isn’t heavy. Yet he felt an unbearable weight, a pressure crushing his chest—heavier than when his body had been broken and his face scarred. His lips parted as if to say something more, but no words came out. Morgan, at the final threshold, paused for a moment. He didn’t turn. He didn’t raise his voice. But he said: "Stay where you are... child."
There is now "there," and where should that "there" be? Morgan stood with the three... The first: Frederick—the eldest among them, tall with a lean yet taut body, his eyes cold, and his golden hair cascading over his shoulders. He wore light armor, indicating his preference for speed and agility in battle. His grip rested on the hilt of a long spear. The second: Reinhardt—the bulkiest of the brothers, his body sculpted like a golden statue, his eyes gleaming beneath thick brows. His hair was short and
But he didn’t want to waste the Maga pointlessly—its only purpose was to rid him of the catastrophe. He stop it, looking at the king now, who had become an unpredictable phantom.
destroying. But neither was he waiting. He was simply calling. Not just a roar—but a declaration, an open will, an explicit command: "Come to me... Or else, I will come to you." "Your kingdom trembles," his hollow voice echoed. "It can no longer stand. It can no longer rule without loss. So, I have come."* He had come to decide have messy, with a deep scar adorning his neck. The third: Silan—the youngest, his eyes sharp as daggers. in their absence. He spoke, his voice a mix of questioning and self-reproach: ’Valeras, you convinced me. You affirmed the necessity of this. And here you are, not even here to welcome me.’ He stood still for a moment, his eyes slowly scanning the rubble, taking in the sheer scale of the devastation. In a hoarse, barely audible whisper, he whether this kingdom deserved to endure... or if its time had ended. At the massive gate where they confronted him, Claude, having just arrived, watched as his father Morgan
sky like a predator under his command. But the younger man had already moved, leaping, spinning mid-air, and lunging with a kick straight at Howard’s neck. A cracking sound! But Howard smiled. His palm tried to catch the kick, but Morgan was faster, landing on the ground and delivering a punch from his glowing state... The impact struck Howard’s fist, the ground shattered beneath them, the earth splitting as light erupted. Morgan’s aura began to invade Howard’s outstretched hand. The axe was there, returning to carve its path toward Morgan, who noticed it and smoothly disengaged to evade it... That was exactly what Howard needed. He pursued him in that instant, his grasping palm extending toward Howard’s neck. But Morgan preempted him with an ascending vertical kick, striking him like a solar explosion. Howard was lifted violently, golden blows raining upon him, one after another... Then Morgan spun to finish the strikes with a side kick that embedded itself in Howard’s
Howard clenched his fists, pausing in the sky for a brief moment, then—without hesitation—he launched himself again, like an arrow loosed from a fully drawn bow. He hurtled toward Morgan, colliding with him violently, marking the beginning of a ferocious aerial battle.
Punches rained down, impacts echoed through the space between them, each one like the detonation of a small star.
Something beyond all else.
Two colossal forces colliding, relentless, unwavering.
Two meteors locked in combat, in a dance unlike any other—where nothing in this world could stop them.
