Shadow Over the Heavenly Throne-Chapter 63: Looks like your legendary technique doesn’t work so well

Chapter 63: Looks like your legendary technique doesn’t work so well

Sylphia jumped to her feet, her scream tearing through the silence of the stands.

"Mom!"

Her voice echoed, breaking the tension hanging over the arena. Her eyes widened in absolute terror. Beside her, Aldrich remained perfectly still. His fists were clenched, his arms taut like steel cables. Only his gaze—locked onto the center of the battlefield—betrayed that he knew exactly what Veynessa was doing.

Yllara furrowed her brow slightly. Her hand was still buried in Veynessa’s body when the woman’s form began to shift. A subtle pulse coursed through her figure, and her outline began to ripple, as if the air around her had suddenly warped. In a single flash, her body exploded into hundreds of tiny, shimmering fragments of light, drifting like shattered glass catching sunlight—then vanished without a trace.

Something in the air behind her shimmered unnaturally. An intangible presence seemed to slip through reality. Yllara didn’t hesitate. Her muscles tensed instantly, and she spun with fluid precision. Her fist cleaved the air in a fraction of a second—and struck a body.

Light burst at the point of contact. Veynessa’s form trembled, then fractured like a crystalline structure under pressure—splitting across the torso, arms, and neck. Sparkling shards floated for a heartbeat before dissolving into fading sparks. ƒreewebɳovel.com

"What the..." Yllara growled.

Another ripple. This time on her left. Before she could turn, she felt a hand on her shoulder. Her body reacted before her mind—she grabbed the intruder’s arm and, in one fluid motion, hurled it over her hip. The form slammed into the stone floor with force that made the air vibrate. Another explosion of light, another clone shattered into dust.

But before she could finish her motion, a sudden blow struck her from the side. Something hard and fast.

Yllara blocked it at the last moment, but the force was enough to knock her back several steps. She dug her feet into the ground, slowing the momentum, and immediately scanned the arena.

Seven.

Yllara froze. Her eyes widened just slightly, and the fingers of her left hand clenched the air tighter, as if confirming what she saw was real.

Seven silhouettes of Veynessa stood at different points on the battlefield. Each motionless, like statues of living light, ready to move but paused in timeless stillness. Their eyes gleamed with identical focus, and tension shimmered between them—like the world itself held its breath before a storm.

The stands fell silent.

"What kind of technique is that?" Elder Maerion muttered.

Theron narrowed his eyes.

Fenthar crossed his arms. "If those are parallel bodies, and her soul jumps between them... then even a strike to the heart means nothing," he said quietly, squinting. "Notice... every time one body is destroyed, another appears immediately in its place."

Calista drew in a sharp breath, frustration flashing in her eyes. She remembered that technique from their friendly spars. She hated it. Fighting Veynessa in that form meant one thing: she was up against seven opponents at once. Each moved differently, each could attack from any direction, and destroying one meant nothing. Another instantly appeared.

Worse—Calista clenched the armrest—Veynessa could transfer her soul between bodies. Hitting the real one was nearly impossible. This technique had no elegance. It was pure, exhausting torment for the opponent.

Sylphia exhaled through trembling lips, her gaze darting across the arena like a lost child. One moment she saw her mother with a hole in her chest from Yllara’s attack; the next, new forms appeared out of nowhere. Something twisted tight in her chest. Her thoughts struggled to keep pace, but logic no longer applied. There were seven Veynessas. Unspoken questions swirled in her eyes.

On the arena, all seven Veynessas moved at once, like a single organism with seven limbs. Each moved differently—two raised their hands, tracing complex patterns in the air that birthed new energy blades. A third flanked wide, seeking a weak point. The others charged head-on.

Yllara sprang into action. Every move she made was like slicing through fog—swift and precise. Her hands and feet danced between attacks, and when she struck a body, it shattered in a flash, as if made of tensioned crystal.

But for every one destroyed, another emerged.

Energy swords whirled everywhere. Hundreds of blades sliced across the arena in chaotic harmony—screeching overhead, crashing into the ground, deflecting off her techniques, or grazing near her skull.

Yllara was fast. But she couldn’t breathe. Every movement led to new threats. Every dodge brought another attack.

This wasn’t a battle. It was a siege.

Yllara suddenly stopped. Her eyes flashed with cold light. She activated "Weight of Silence" at full power—space around her trembled, and the ground beneath her feet caved in. Gravity surged as if an invisible hand pressed everything downward. The air shook, and all nearby clones of Veynessa collapsed under the merciless weight. Energy blades exploded in an instant, their constructs unable to withstand the shifting gravity.

Yllara straightened slowly, letting the wave of silence wash over the arena. She said nothing. Her stare was signal enough. But then, she saw movement.

New silhouettes emerged from different corners of the arena. New Veynessa bodies. Their outlines solidified quickly, their feet moving as if none of them knew fear, fatigue, or pain.

They charged.

Seeing the renewed assault and hearing the hiss of incoming blades, Yllara narrowed her eyes. She drew in a breath and stepped forward. Not this time. She wouldn’t let her opponent dictate the rhythm.

Time to take the initiative.

She raised her hand and made a sweeping motion. Her Qi spread across the arena like dense smoke, warping the space around her.

This was her technique—Weight of the Four Directions.

Gravity bent reality in four directions. In each corner of the arena, massive gravitational whirlpools formed, spinning like vast funnels of force. Their centers rotated slowly, majestically, but anything that neared them was violently torn by space itself.

The left vortex pulled in pulses like a heartbeat. The right twisted space into spirals, blurring shapes and distorting sound. The upper one dragged upward, lifting dust, stones, and stray blades. The bottom was invisible but palpable, making the ground ripple, as if a monstrous suction stirred beneath.

It was this very unpredictability that made Yllara’s technique so dangerous. The opponent wasn’t just dodging attacks—they were constantly recalculating the direction and strength of gravity itself, which shifted every second. A single careless step could result in being sucked into a vortex or having one’s body stretched to its limits. Even trying to escape was a risk—gravitational forces pulled from multiple directions simultaneously, turning the battlefield into a minefield where space itself was the enemy. That’s why her technique was considered one of the most legendary in the entire royal bloodline.

The stands held their breath.

"Finally..." Elder Fenthar muttered. "She’s finally fighting seriously."

Maerion nodded slowly, affirming the thought.

But what caught their attention wasn’t the technique itself. One of Veynessa’s bodies, far to the arena’s south, wore a slight, ironic smile.

Theron raised an eyebrow, a trace of amusement crossing his face.

"Looks like she’s been waiting for that move," he said softly, watching the smile like an omen.

All Veynessas stopped at once. They lifted their heads and looked at Yllara. Then spoke—as one, in Veynessa’s voice.

"I was wondering how I’d handle your famous technique," they said. "I’ve heard much about it. For most opponents, it would be crushing. It rips apart battle structure and forces them into chaotic terrain. But unfortunately for you, Yllara... I possess a natural counter."

Smiling, they raised their hands. In an instant, hundreds—thousands—of energy blades appeared above the arena and shot straight into one of the vortexes.

They vanished without a trace.

As the last wave of swords disappeared, new light shimmered above the arena. More blades materialized, flashing into existence. There was no hesitation, no breath between waves. A constant stream of swords flowed toward one gravitational vortex. The space around it pulsed, as if reality itself strained under the sheer volume.

Yllara narrowed her eyes. She understood immediately. Veynessa was trying to overload the vortex with energy. The one on the right began to pulse erratically, the air around it trembling like heatwaves. Space twisted and warped, as if the world could no longer hold together. Yllara had seen this before—seconds before collapse.

She moved to stop it—but two Veynessas attacked from opposite sides. Their strikes were perfectly timed. But Yllara countered flawlessly—each hit burst into light and vanished—but others body surged in, while more conjured new rings of energy.

Above the arena, another wave of swords formed—dozens, hundreds—like a chain reaction. The whistling blades became one continuous hum.

"Clever girl," Theron murmured, leaning forward. "She’s using her pressure against her."

"And she’s not giving Yllara a second to retaliate," Maerion added, impressed. "Constant clone movement, endless blade production... perfect strategy to overwhelm the technique."

The first vortex—the one on the right—began to spin unnaturally. Its center widened, then collapsed with a hiss, sending a shockwave of twisted space. One by one, the other three followed.

In the center of the arena, one Veynessa raised her head, a calm, satisfied smile spreading across her face.

"Looks like your legendary technique doesn’t work so well on me," she said lightly, as if commenting on the weather.

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