Reincarnated as an Apocalyptic Catalyst-Chapter 87: The Catalyst and the Key

The world blurred, my vision tunneling as I locked onto the stage.

Mara was being dragged up those stone steps like a lamb to slaughter, the cult leader’s hand pressed against her, his sickening smile carved into his face as he mused himself with all of the chaos going on around him.

Everything else ceased to exist. The screams, the fires, the spells detonating in the sky. It all faded into the background, drowned beneath the deafening roar of my own blood pounding through my ears. The last thread of restraint snapped, and I moved.

[Shadow Dance Activated.]

[Mana: 80/100]

The world flickered as I reappeared behind the first cultist in my path. My dagger whispered through flesh, severing the tendons at the back of his knee before I plunged the blade into his spine. He hit the ground with a gurgled cry, but I was already gone, stepping out of the shadows behind the next one. I ripped through them like leaves in the wind.

A downward slash across a throat. A dagger jammed under a ribcage. A flick of my wrist sent steel through an eye socket. One tried to turn and raise a spell, but it was too slow. My dagger met his jugular before the incantation even left his lips. I didn’t wait for them to fall, I couldn’t wait. Every second was precious.

Good, I thought to myself as more of them swarmed. I would let them come and break themselves on my blades. A cultist lunged from the left, curved blade glinting in the crimson glow of the burning courtyard. I caught his wrist mid-strike, twisting until the bone snapped with a sickening crack. He howled. I drove my dagger up, into the soft spot beneath his chin, silencing him before he could even choke on his own blood.

Ronan moved beside me, his form wreathed in flickering orange and blue flames. Every twitch of his fingers sent waves of fire roaring through the battlefield, engulfing anything and anyone unfortunate enough to stand in his way. He wasn’t as precise as he had been, but I didn’t need him to be, I just needed a weapon to point and shoot, until we made our way through these sick bastards–and I did, I unleashed him upon the cult and he incinerated all that stood in his way.

A shadow loomed from the corner of my eye, I twisted, unable to dodge a cultist swinging a war axe at my head. Ronan had already been formulating a protective barrier and for that split moment, he deflected the attack and resumed his hell fire.

"Thanks, Ronan," I muttered as I got back to business.

The blade buried itself into the ground, sending cracks through the stone. I lunged, my dagger flashing, and the cultist was less lucky, with no magical barriers or friends to assist him before my blade found the weak spot in his armor. I twisted the handle, feeling flesh and muscle give way as he crumpled with a wheezing gasp.

I didn’t care what classes they had, whether they were all mages or knights, barbarians, or druids, or if one of them was king of the fuckin realm. Blood would flow, so very much blood.

I ripped my dagger free and spun, driving my second blade into the throat of another cultist.

Vance surged into the fray, his sword flashing in wide, sweeping arcs, and if I had more time, if I could afford more time, I would have watched his sword dance for hours. It really was a thing of beauty, even as distressed and filled with blind rage as he was right now.

His armor was drenched in blood, but none of it was his own. His breathing was ragged, his eyes wild—whatever rationality he usually clung to had been drowned in the carnage.

The cultists had come prepared, or at least they thought they had. Barriers began erecting, incantations chanted, and some of them even focused on their tried-and-true summoning rituals. They would be nowhere fast enough, as we were already too deep.

We carved through like a scythe through wheat. Try as they might to stop us, they failed every time. A robed figure raised a staff, dark energy crackling at its tip. I closed the distance in a blink, Shadow Dancing to his side before he could even finish his spell.

[Shadow Dance Activated]

[Mana: 60/100]

My dagger slipped between his ribs, cutting his scream short as I shoved him off the raised platform he stood on. He hit the ground in a heap, unmoving.

I went to reactivate Shadow Dance but received an error, and it seemed as though someone was blocking my access to Shadow Magic. My gaze darted around, trying to find the source of this obstacle, and soon found it, huddled together next to who I assumed was the leader–The one holding Mara helplessly before him.

The ground continued to tremble beneath us. I hadn’t been entirely aware of it when I jumped into the fray, but now that I had the slightest moment to assess my surroundings, I could see the courtyard shifting around me.

Dark sigils flared to life, pulsing in the blood-soaked stone. The cultists had drawn them in the middle of the chaos, weaving a massive ritual right under our noses. They were warping the battlefield. The Academy courtyard twisted, reshaping itself into something else, something wrong. The towering walls of the temple Mara had described so vividly in her nightmares flickered into existence, solidifying with every passing second. The air grew thick, heavy, suffocating.

The portal still stood, even as the world changed around us.

None of that mattered, Mara was still up there, still in his hands, and I would burn this entire world down before I let that stand.

The stage felt as though it was just around the bend and yet somehow a hundred miles away. I knew we would have to take out another twenty cultists, if Ronan and Vance could help me push forward, it would only be a few short moments before we reached her. Not having my shadow dance was a pain, but at least we would all arrive at the same time, and put an end to this bastard.

But what to do when we reach her? He could just slit her throat, drain her life, or depending on how strong the fucker was, he could just end our lives with a snap.

The words of the cult leader broke me out of my thoughts. His voice cut through the chaos—it was calm, measured, and deeply amused.

"You’re exactly as she described you."

I froze, not in hesitation, not in fear—but in one part confusion, 9 parts pure, raw hatred, unable to mentally direct my body in what it needed to do next.

The leader still had his hand on Mara’s stomach, fingers tracing over her robes as though she were a pet on his lap, something to keep his mind busy as he weaved his fingers through the fur. The cultists around him chanted in low, guttural tones, the temple sigils blazing ever brighter, the air warping under their influence.

Mara couldn’t move. I could see it in her eyes—the desperate flicker of consciousness trapped beneath some unseen force, held in place like a lamb on the altar.

"You fight so desperately," the cult leader continued, his golden eyes locking onto mine. "So much rage. So much fear. It’s almost beautiful." His lips curled into something I couldn’t identify, but no longer rested the simple curve of a smile.

"Tell me, Lucian," he drawled, tilting his head, "Do you even know why we need you? Why your very existence was the key to everything?"

My name, he said my name. That was enough to send me reeling, to strike me to the core, not with blades but with words. Mara didn’t miss it either, her eyes though stunned as they were, resonated with a flicker of understanding as she struggled to put together the pieces.

He laughed.

"The parasites? The spread of your cursed touch?" He shook his head. "You truly thought that was your purpose? No. That was merely the catalyst. The real gift... the real key... has always been in her."

His hand pressed harder against Mara’s stomach.

I didn’t understand what he was saying, I felt like I was reading a book when suddenly all of the words swirled together into an indiscernible mess. I know only a few brief moments had passed by, but it might as well have been an eternity as I gazed up at them, watching his hand glide along her stomach before I finally put the pieces together. Mara was pregnant, they wanted her child, they wanted my child!

A wave of black tendrils detonated outward from my body as I lost control, whipping through the air as they desperately tried to find something to snatch up and tear apart. The sigils around the cultists shattered, the intricate lines of blood and bone rupturing as raw, abyssal energy bled into the world.

I lunged forward as the world shattered around me, the ground beneath my feet cracking and warping under the weight of my power. My hands were now coated in pure shadow, forming wicked claws that stretched toward the leader’s throat, the abyss in my veins crying out for his life, for his soul, for his end.

The moment before I reached him, something stopped me, as the air itself collapsed inward, thickening like tar, slowing my movements, and forcing me back. A gravitational pull, invisible yet suffocating, anchored me in mid-air.

I snarled, shadows flaring violently from my body as I tried to break free, my form twisting against the unseen force. My rage burned too hot, my need to kill too great to be restrained.

The cult leader laughed, a deep, guttural chuckle, smooth as silk and sharp as a dagger, a sound filled with amusement, and control.

"Look at you," he purred, his lips curling in satisfaction as I strained against his magic. "I was beginning to think the void had abandoned its wayward son. But no—here you are, finally embracing your birthright."

I roared, tearing through the force holding me in place, my body snapping forward—only to be yanked back again, my momentum crushing under an even greater weight.

My mind burned. A thousand images flooded through me—her eyes, her lips parting as she called my name, her shaking fingers reaching out–she was trying to say something, trying to reach me.

I saw it now, the flickering shadows across my body, the way the tendrils of darkness didn’t belong to me anymore. They moved on their own, writhing hungrily, expanding with every breath, every heartbeat. I had given in to my emotions, I had allowed them to overrun me, but I didn’t care. I wasn’t wielding power anymore, no, I had become power.

The leader took slow, measured steps away from me, heading toward their alter, and dragging Mara with him.

I thrashed harder, every instinct screaming to kill him, to tear him apart, to rip the flesh from his bones and scatter his soul into the abyss where nothing could ever find him again, but I couldn’t move, my body wouldn’t let me–something told me Mara didn’t want me any closer either.

I jerked, my breath ragged. The world blurred. The fire in my blood turned cold. The abyss twisted inside me, trying to pull me deeper, trying to consume what little was left of Caidan.

"You feel it, don’t you?" His voice dripped with satisfaction, his fingers pressing deeper against Mara’s skin. "You were never meant to be the harbinger, Lucian."

A pulse of black energy rippled from his hand into Mara’s body.

Mara let out a gut-wrenching scream, fueling my hate, twisting my emotions further out of my own control–the world vanished as I pried myself from his spell and shifted into the shadows, but not fast enough.

The leader snapped his finger and a portal appeared behind him. He casually stepped back into the portal, still holding Mara, still smiling, still mocking me.

As I spilled out of the shadows and into the world, Mara turned her head, her eyes locking onto mine, and this time—this time I heard her.

"I love you... Lucian." Then she was gone, the portal behind them was gone.

I hit the ground too late, my claws raked through empty air, tearing massive grooves into the stage. There was no air in my lungs, there was no air anywhere.

For a full second, I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, couldn’t think, and then the void took me. It pushed my consciousness into the furthest recesses of my mind, and began pulling control from her.

I screamed—a raw, guttural, abyssal howl—as everything collapsed. The temple shook. The Academy shattered around me. The weight of my rage, my agony, my failure ignited in an explosion of black energy, ripping through the remaining cultists with absolute devastation.

The darkness swallowed everything in its wake—friend or foe, living or dead. The survivors ran. The few remaining students, the last of the faculty, even those who had fought alongside me. They saw what I had become, and they ran.

It wasn’t enough, I wanted the world to burn, I wanted them all to suffer.

I had lost her, and now, the world would pay.

A hand gripped my shoulder–it was Ronan.

I lashed out. A tendril of void wrapped around his arm, ready to tear him apart, but he didn’t move. He held firm, staring into my eyes with something close to—pity.

"You will destroy everything," he said, his voice flat, emotionless. Final.

His words pierced through me like an ice-cold dagger, cutting deeper than the void ever had...Destroy everything. Not just the cult, not just the people who had taken her. Everything and everyone.

I was no longer fighting them, I was fighting myself. The shadows faltered, the storm stilled, and the void retreated.

My vision blurred. The weight of my own rage, my own power, and my own failure crashed down on me all at once. And then—Blackness. freēwēbnovel.com

[Cultists Killed 47]

[XP: 5000 x 47 for 235,000]

[Amulet Bonus: Times 10 for 2,350,000 XP in total.]

[Total XP: 10628900/104857600]

[Congradulations! You have leveled up!]

[You are now Level 24]

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