Spirit's Awakening: The Path of Lightning and Water-Chapter 408: [Shattered Sky Bolt] Appears Again!

A crescent arc of storm-forged Lightning erupted from Lassim's blade, surging and disrupting the air with the combined essence of Lightning, Water, and Space. The technique, [Storm Slash] caused mayhem the moment it left his halberd's arc. The very air in its path twisted, space bending ever so slightly from the spatial element woven into the attack as a raging storm filled with swirling, red lightning sprite fish and red lightning.

Raizan barely managed to twist his body, bringing his javelins up to block—but it didn't matter. The force and sheer size of the [Storm Slash]'s area of effect ripped through his stance, sending his entire body twisting through the air like a thrown projectile.

He recovered by shooting towards the stage, his boots skidded across the arena floor, sparks flying as he fought to stabilize himself. The sheer pressure left an indentation in the stage beneath his feet, cracks spider-webbing outward from where he finally stopped himself. His arms shook violently from the impact, the veins along his forearms bulging from the effort of keeping his grip on his weapons.

"What the fuck was that?"

The thought barely formed in Raizan's mind as he forced himself to stand upright, his breaths coming sharp and uneven. He knew he was strong—Level 5 Spirit Transcendence was nothing to scoff at. He had spent over three thousand and five hundred years perfecting his techniques, refining every step, every motion to bring his ability and javelins to their absolute peak potential.

And yet, Lassim hadn't even taken this seriously based on the casual stance Lassim still held and the look those stormy eyes gave him.

Raizan gritted his teeth, his grip tightening over his weapons. The world around him flickered as his Halo flared, the five-layered bands of Lightning cultivation roaring to life, flooding his body with the purest concentration of his refined element as it rotated through his body.

Lassim watched, his gaze neutral. He could feel the weight of the audience's stares, their collective anticipation heavy in the air; the heaviest being the Sect Master's. The stadium was deathly silent, save for the occasional low rumble of thunder from the eternal storm clouds overhead that seemed to hold their breath.

His opponent was strong, but the gap between them was far too wide. Yet, in such a manner that was the opposite of what everyone would assume, though it seemed his master had an inkling of the situation based on the hole that he felt being bore into the back of his head from that gaze.

Raizan's hands blurred as his twin javelins multiplied or seemingly split into four, the weapons twisting mid-air, vibrating with condensed destruction. Then—he vanished.

Lassim didn't move though.

Raizan reappeared above him, his javelins already mid-flight, aimed directly at Lassim's blind spot.

Lightning surged through the air as the projectiles tore toward their mark, each one shimmering with the force of an executioner's strike. A technique built for single-target elimination—[Stormpiercer Formation]. The technique had never failed him before.

Yet—Lassim was already gone despite having kept his senses and eyes on him the entire time.

Raizan's instincts flared too late. A faint shift in the air, a presence that had been in front of him just a fraction of a millisecond ago, was suddenly gone. Then—

A whisper of the spatial fabric collapsed inward behind him.

Raizan's eyes widened as Lassim materialized just inches from his back, his storm-commanding and radiating presence an impossible force pressing against the air itself. A presence that dwarfed him completely and made all of his instincts scream in terror.

A deep, sinking feeling settled in Raizan's gut. He was too slow.

Lassim didn't strike immediately. He let Raizan feel the truth of the situation—the absolute difference in their levels. The silence stretched just long enough for panic to creep in as Raizan had barely started turning his body around to defend himself.

In reply, Lassim simply raised his hand.

The space before him twisted violently, reality warping as a crimson and azure bolt began to form—jagged, chaotic, searing with spatial distortions. The coliseum barrier immediately along the edges of the stage groaned in protest in this pressurized space cut off from the surrounding world.

The stage itself cracked without so much of an ounce of power leaking out that could give the audience an indication of the near divine power that Raizan was facing point-blank.

Then, as the battle art materialized, the very air became heavier, saturated with so much compressed force that it felt like the entire coliseum was suddenly being pushed downward by an unseen force.

From the high platform, Volten's expression darkened as he stood straight up and prepared to make a move to protect the audience if necessary.

Raizan's body locked up before he even had the chance to counter. He didn't know why, but every single muscle in his body refused to obey. Even the rotation of his mana within his body faltered, their swirling within his veins shrinking instinctively, curling inward as if the lightning within him was afraid. His elemental companion, a type of horned bull creature, seemed to cower within Raizan's inner heart world as well.

Raizan clenched his teeth so hard he thought they might crack. He had trained for millennia to overcome the strongest cultivators of the sect. He had endured tribulations, survived portal defenses and a ridiculous, secret lightning tribulation in the past inside a secret pocket dimension so wild that it had burned an entire mountain range into glass.

And yet, his body was telling him one undeniable truth.

If that attack hit him—he would die.

Lassim, still facing him, tilted his head slightly, as if considering something.

The massive crimson bolt in front of him pulsed angrily, the air around it cracking apart as spatial rifts laced the edges. The sheer presence of the bolt distorted the fabric of the coliseum's space, stretching everything toward its center.

Lassim exhaled, then adjusted his hand slightly.

His voice was barely a whisper, but it cut through the storm like a knife.

"Half power should do."

Then, he moved his fingers.

"Go."

The [Shattered Sky Bolt], his most recent creation, could only be described as detonating forward.

The moment it launched, the space between them folded in on itself, the sheer force of the attack warping the air above the arena as reality buckled beneath its passage. Raizan's body locked up entirely, unable to respond.

The moment seemed to stretch into eternity.

Raizan barely had time to process what had happened before the bolt struck him directly in the chest. A flash of crimson and azure engulfed his body, and the next instant—Raizan was gone.

No explosion. No impact. Just absence.

Then—above them—a violent tear in space reopened.

New n𝙤vel chapters are published on novelbuddy.cσ๓.

Raizan was spat back into reality, his body flung like a broken marionette as he crashed into the arena floor with devastating force.

BOOM!

The entire stage fractured beneath him, stone shattering as his body bounced off the surface, rolling violently like a ragdoll across the ruined stage before he finally skidded to a halt near the edge.

Silence.

The coliseum was silent. Even the sky was silent; pure awe.

Raizan lay motionless, his body twitching, his breath barely perceptible, ragged and uneven. His armor pieces that line his arms and shins was shredded, his Personal Disciple martial attire burned and shredded beyond recognition. His arms and legs visibly broken, and his Lightning aura flickering weakly, struggling to sustain itself. And yet—he was alive.

From the stands, the elders were speechless. From the high platform, Sect Master Volten exhaled slowly, his sharp gaze never leaving Lassim. His disciple had held back. Had chosen to spare his opponent. Had calculated exactly how much force was required to avoid killing him outright. Yet, Volten had to stabilize the surroundings with his own spiritual pressure to protect the weaker members of the sect, and even Elder Sarrin and Elder Baruun were firmly planted with each of their hands funneling everything in their power to keep the barrier stable as well.

Volten felt a cold realization settle in his chest.

Lassim was already beyond what he had originally suspected. He was not just strong—he was quite possibly stronger than even himself. And that made the situation absolutely ridiculous, a master weaker than his own disciple? Wasn't that only supposed to happen in old age and after millenniums? He had barely accepted that brat roughly a year ago and here he was just completely changing the natural order of things.

The coliseum projection screen flickered, and the words WINNER: LASSIM ROHESE VANTHAR lit up in radiant golden light.

The coliseum remained frozen, a moment suspended in awe.

Lightning flickered through the storm-choked sky, almost in celebration and joy, with rolling thunder acting as the only sound beyond the heavy, stunned silence of thousands.

The last wisps of residual spatial distortions from Lassim's [Shattered Sky Bolt] still lingered in the air, curling like phantasmal afterimages of its sheer destructive force. The very stage, reinforced by ancient sect formations, was cracked and fractured.

Then, in one single, collective motion, the entire coliseum erupted.

Thunderous cheers, gasps of disbelief, voices rising in scattered, frenzied discussion. Some disciples cheered without understanding what they had just witnessed, while others—particularly those at higher cultivation levels—sat in shell-shocked silence, staring at Lassim as though he had fundamentally changed their understanding of cultivation and what was possible.

The usage of attacks empowered not only by divine mana, but also upgraded to Lassim's unique combined mana of three elements, and the [Law of Storm] that resonated with each of the lightning elemental cultivators of the Lightning Sect was insane.

Amidst the roaring waves of excitement and anxiety, the Sect's Elders up on the high platform turned to Volten.