Sign In To The Body Of Chaos At The Start-Chapter 86: Elarith Valis!

For the first time in a long time, the sky over the Bastion Sanctum was unusually clear.

No clouds, no ash, no flickering spacial tears bleeding Abyssal points. It was just a stretch of clear skies that would make one to believe that they weren’t at war.

Damon meanwhile was standing near the northern gate of the Sanctum, his cloak fluttering behind him and the light breeze tugging at his collar.

BloodReaper was in scythe form, hung diagonally across his back, still eagerly pulsing as if it wanted to battle right now.

Behind him, the heavy stone archway groaned open.

Captain Bren Ardan approached first, his weathered armor partially polished, though still bearing the scratches and dents from their last mission.

He carried no weapons on him now, just a heavy pouch of spatial scrolls, some letters sealed with Bastion’s mark, and a half-eaten fruit he tossed aside as he walked.

"You’re really going through with it, huh?" Bren asked, stopping beside him.

Damon didn’t turn, "Well I wouldn’t what to see what happened if I stay here longer than I should."

"Yeah, but no one’s been to Elarith Valis in over a year. No transmissions, no scouts returning, not even a soul whisper. It’s not a city anymore, it’s a grave."

Damon’s expression didn’t waver, "Then I’ll be the one to succeed."

Bren scratched the side of his beard, exhaling, "You’re insane."

"Probably."

The sound of boots echoed behind them. Syllana approached, her presence always precise, never rushed, never hesitant. Her crimson robes shimmered with barely-restrained spiritual power, and her silver eyes were calculating as ever.

"I’ve finished attuning the navigation coordinates," she said, offering Damon a shimmering crystal embedded with thin violet strands, "This will keep you locked to the pathways that run beneath the Broken Sky Expanse. Stay within them and the terrain will remain stable. Leave them... and the floating terrain might collapse under you."

Damon took it, eyes scanning the enchantments before slipping it into a side pouch.

"Elarith Valis used to be the center of echo transmission technology," Syllana continued, "Before we lost contact, they were working on a next-generation spiritual resonance relay that could connect entire continents through thought alone."

"And now they’re silent," Damon said.

"They didn’t go dark for no reason. So you need to be careful."

"I will be." Damon said.

There was a moment of silence between them before Bren nodded, slapping a sealed scroll into Damon’s chest. "Give this to anyone still alive in Elarith. Authority pass. If someone in that city’s holding out, they’ll listen to you."

Damon took the scroll, storing it in his dimensional ring. "Thanks."

"... Be safe, Damon." Syllana said, the words coming out of her mouth gentler than expected.

The words came out gentler than expected. And somehow, that struck deeper than any order or command.

Damon bowed his head slightly. "You too."

Then, without another word, he turned, walking out the open gates, leaving the fortress behind and heading towards his next goal.

As he walked, he quickly realized once again just how unforgiving the path beyond the Sanctum was.

Gone were the fortified paths and structured defenses of the stronghold, now replaced by jagged stone ridges, collapsed mana fissures, and the remnants of a battlefield that had once scorched the heavens.

Every few steps, Damon’s boots met uneven ground where ancient tremors had shattered the earth like glass. Thorned vines born of corrupted mana slithered across craters, hissing at his presence, recoiling only when his Aura of Righteousness burned through their cursed instincts.

The air grew colder the farther he traveled. It wasn’t natural cold, but the lingering chill of void residue, a reminder that Abyssal rifts had once opened here, tearing the sky and soul of the land alike.

He passed broken monoliths, some inscribed with warning runes, others with half-faded names of fallen heroes. Their wards had long failed. The spiritual hum in the earth was quiet now, like a song that had forgotten its melody.

A pale sun hung overhead, offering no warmth, only light.

Damon didn’t slow down at all, in fact, as time passed and he got into his rhythm, he was moving quickly, but the progress was still small.

The road ahead wasn’t a road, it was a maze of floating terrain, fragmented highlands, and gravity-distorted fault lines that would crush or erase a mortal traveler in hours.

It was only with his [ Eyes of Oblivion ] that he could sense the safe pathways and with his [ Primordial Eternal Heart ] that he could sustain the constant drain of energy.

And yet, this was only the beginning.

Elarith Valis lay beyond the Broken Sky Expanse, and even at full speed, the journey would take over a full day without rest. And rest wasn’t an option as he was already being peppered with attacks from Abyssal monsters.

As he was walking, another attack came. His foot had just landed on a slanted ridge when the shadows beneath him twitched, and then burst.

A dozen Abyssal spike tendrils shot up like spears, aiming for his vitals. They hissed, slick with venom and whispering curses in a tongue that only monsters born of chaos would know.

But Damon was already gone.

[ Flash Step ], enhanced by spatial affinity, carried him three meters left, just outside their range.

His foot landed on another slab of floating stone, this one trembling under gravitational instability. He flared his aura, forcing the mass beneath him to temporarily stabilize under the pressure of his will.

The tendrils coiled, then retracted, but the threat was far from over.

The abyss were still following his scent, and emerging from the warped crevices ahead were creatures not entire physical.

Some of them floated, their bodies like a combination of bones, mist and liquid void. Some of them crawled like spiders and their legs made of crystal blades.

"ROAR!"

The monsters roared and charged at him, and Damon quickly counterattacked.

The Codex of Judgement, Retribution and Damnation appeared in his hand, pages flipping with divine urgency. Golden script burned into the air, each letter laced with condemnation.

Damon’s voice rang like thunder across the landscape:

"By my hand, let all evildoers be judged. By this will, let the stain be cleansed."

The sky rumbled as divine light ignited in a circle around him.

A barrier formed, ten meters wide, pulsing with holy aether and abyssal-destroying runes. The incoming wave of monsters collided with it, and were unmade in an instant.

Not exploded, not sliced, unmade. Their bodies evaporated, their cries silenced, their very essence severed from the plane of existence.

But the Codex’s spell was only the beginning as Damon poured more Mana into it.

More monsters continued to emerged, larger and more powerful ones. A serpent wreathed in spectral chains, slithering across the shattered floating rocks. A bird-like wraith with three wings, each radiating warping energy that cracked the air.

Damon reached into his spiritual core, pouring power into the [Gloves of Slaughter]. Black leather shimmered as they drank the killing intent from the earlier fight, the crimson sigils etched into their palms glowing faintly.

"Come, then," Damon growled, stepping forward as the serpent coiled, then lunged.

He vanished from the floating rock, and reappeared midair, scythe crashing down directly onto the serpent’s skull.

BloodReaper cleaved through the reinforced bone and void-flesh like divine justice itself. The serpent screeched, soul fracturing, before it exploded into shards of cursed spirit.

As the remnants scattered, Damon didn’t pause. He landed, only to twist and raise his arm, blocking the wing slash of the bird-like wraith.

Its blow should’ve sent a man flying.

But Damon didn’t move.

He only grinned.

"I’ve killed stronger."

The scythe slashed upward in an arc. The bird wraith let out a shriek as its wing was severed, then its head followed, spinning through the air before disintegrating.

Already, Damon could feel it. The Gloves of Slaughter drank from every death. Power coiled around his muscles, his heart beat louder, his regeneration climbed. Every step made him stronger.

But then...

The air changed again.

A different kind of void approached.

A deeper, more ancient silence fell upon the terrain. Even the wind hesitated. The floating rocks ahead started to spin unnaturally, rotating faster than they should, forming a spiral corridor of floating platforms that led up toward the Broken Sky Expanse.

Damon frowned.

"Time for a real test."

From behind the whirling platforms came a massive creature—part shadow, part reality.

It had six arms, each bearing a weapon of an ancient warrior long since consumed. Its face was wrapped in bandages that bled shadowfire, and its mouth, too wide, too knowing—grinned with purpose.

A Dread Herald. freewёbnoνel.com

These were not ordinary Abyssal monsters. This one had retained its full intelligence. It had been touched by the will of the one Ila spoke of, the one who remembered Damon.

The creature whispered, voice echoing in every direction.

"We remember your flame... And we hunger still to bring you to us."

Damon didn’t answer, just rolling his eyes as he heard another Abyssal creature talking nonsense.

"[ Forbidden Spell: Void Lockout .]"

The world around him twisted. The shadows dimmed. The sky above cried out as Damon’s body became the center of a silent detonation. Pure Void Element, destructive and unchained, erupted from his core.

The wave expanded outward, washing over the creature and everything within a hundred meters.

Reality screamed as the floating terrain fractured, but Damon forced stability with sheer will. Around him, enemy mana signatures vanished, cut off. No spell, no magic, no ability could be channeled within the radius now.

The Dread Herald stumbled, growling as its connection to the Abyss severed.

But Damon wasn’t done.

"[ Forbidden Spell: Overclock.]"

A second surge.

Celestial Lightning, white and gold, poured into his limbs. His muscles spasmed. His breath caught. His veins pulsed with divine agony and unrelenting speed. Sparks danced across his shoulders and boots as energy flooded his entire being.

In that moment, he was faster than sound.

Faster than thought.

He crossed the distance in less than a blink, scythe dragging a streak of lightning and void behind him.

The Dread Herald raised one weapon to block, but BloodReaper shattered it in one swing.

Then another.

Then another.

Each strike carved through ancient armor, through corrupted divinity, through time-worn defenses. Damon became a whirlwind of judgment. Every blow fueled by the slaughter. Every death-enhanced gift from the Gloves of Slaughter roared through his veins.

The Dread Herald fell back, roaring in frustration and disbelief.

"Too slow," he whispered, casting another spell.

"[Codex Spell: Chains of Eternal Verdict.]"

Dozens of golden chains, made of spirit light and judgment runes, descended from the sky. They pierced the Herald’s limbs, body, heart, and soul, binding it to the land, to the law, to its crimes.

"You have no salvation," Damon said.

The final swing cleaved its head in two.

The Dread Herald spasmed, gurgled, and died.

A wave of spiritual pressure burst from its remains.

Then silence.

Damon exhaled as his Primordial Eternal Heart glowed. Its regenerative pulse cleared his fatigue, restoring mana and recalibrating internal flow. Within seconds, he was stable again.

He stood tall and stared ahead. The Broken Sky Expanse was no longer distant.

Floating terrain stretched above him, some turning sideways, others flipping end over end in constant rotation. Gravity bent sideways. Wind shifted in pulses, like breath, sometimes soft, sometimes violent.

He reached the edge of the first floating platform.

Placed one foot on it.

It wobbled.

Then stabilized under his aura.

Damon crouched.

And jumped.

The journey across the Expanse had begun.

One floating island at a time.

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