Ch 883 - The Last Stand

The sect master half-crouched behind Maya, using her as a human shield against Alex's power. He watched Alex's face carefully. "I mean it," he said. "Stand down, or she dies."

For a moment, no one spoke. No one moved. No one even seemed to breathe. Every eye was on Alex's face.

Then he smiled.

There was a flash of golden light, and the master yelped as he was flung backward. He looked up at Maya in shock, and he saw that she was surrounded by a shimmering shield of golden energy. She stared back at him, her expression frosty. Naturally, she and Alex had known how dangerous this would be, so they had prepared this defensive spell ahead of time. It was powerful enough that even the most powerful warrior would not be able to break through it without struggling for hours or days.

Of course, that didn't stop the master or his disciples from trying. Spells and magical weapons slammed into the barrier with enough force to tear down buildings, but the shield didn't even flicker. Maya stood serenely behind her barrier, her face not showing even a hint of concern.

"It's no use," said one of the immortals, pointing at a glowing charm on Maya's wrist. "Breaking this spell requires more time and power than we can spare." He turned to the master, his face grim. "You could break it, but it would probably kill you."

The master shuddered. There was nothing that terrified an immortal more than death. "No," he said, finally. "We need to coordinate our attack. We have superior numbers, damn it. We can—"

"Sir," said one of his disciples, her voice flat. "I think it's too late." She pointed behind him.

He turned to see that Alex had shaped a blazing sphere of golden lightning above his head. Even at a distance, even through the layers of magic that made up the dome, he could feel the pulse of terrifying power floating above them.

Alex pointed at the dome, and the orb shot toward it like a bullet. When it hit, the spell wobbled for a moment. The immortals watched the lighting spread over the dome, covering it like a layer of lace. The lightning flared once, and the shield shattered like glass.

Alex descended from the sky and landed in the square, where there were over a hundred immortals gathered. Each of them felt a chill run down their spines. Alex was just too strong. He had defeated so many masters and won so many battles, and he just kept growing more and more powerful. Of course they were afraid.

Alex stood in the courtyard, straight and tall. He was visibly healing, but the damage he had sustained would have killed an ordinary person. Blood fell from his wounds, but each drop sizzled and vanished in a flash of golden light before hitting the cold marble under his feet.

He began to walk forward, leaving a faint trail of power behind him. It looked like he was walking along a path of golden flames.

The master's eyes hardened. "Look," he said to his disciples. "He's hurt. This is all just a bluff. He's barely holding on. Take him!"

An elder of the Thunder sect shouted a battle cry and surrounded himself in shimmering purple lightning. He thrust both hands out and sent a barrage of bolts at Alex, who waved them away like stinging insects. The lightning arced back toward the elder and struck him dead center. There was a flash and a brief scream, and then silence. Where the elder had stood, there was now only a jagged scar scorched into the marble floor.

While everyone else was distracted by the death of an immortal, almost no one noticed that Alex staggered slightly. Redirecting that last spell had taken more effort than it had seemed. The master had noticed, though. And like a shark, he smelled blood in the water.

"He's weakening," he cried. "I told you he was bluffing. Kill him! Kill him now!"

Alex was more than skilled enough to take on an immortal from Earth, and even the celestial immortals could be dealt with. Ability was not the issue. But Alex was using up his inner power to stay upright, and he was using it fast. Each attack chipped away at his reserves, and keeping his injuries from killing him outright was a steady drain.

His eyes were cold as he steadied himself. "I'm still strong enough to kill every last one of you," he said.

A young immortal from the Purple sect chose to call his bluff. He moved his arms in intricate swooping motions, a greenish light gathering in his hands. He could gather his essence, the same kind of life force that was keeping Alex alive, and refine it into a physical substance that could affect the physical and spiritual worlds simultaneously. The light flowing from his hands shaped itself into sickly green tentacles that waved and coiled around him.

Alex knew instinctively that the tentacles could suck the essence out of him like a vacuum if he let them. They waved around him like snakes waiting to strike. With barely any warning, they shot forward to drain his life force, and he let them. His body pulsed with golden light again, in time with the beat of his heart. The immortal howled in victory.

His celebration was cut short, though. The look of murderous glee became one of confusion and then dread. Alex had found a way to reverse his spell, and he could feel his own essence being pulled from his body. Everyone watched in horror as his hair turned gray, then white, and then started to fall from his head. His muscles withered, and the skin on his hands and face began to sag like a balloon leaking air. He fell to his knees, a husk of what he had been moments before. Then, with a grotesque wheeze, he crumbled to dust.

Taking advantage of the shocked silence, two more immortals attacked. And then three more. And then two. They came after Alex in waves and never one at a time. They had finally figured out that face-to-face duels with him meant certain death.

They all died anyway. Before learning how to use magic, Alex had been a skilled martial artist. He weaved, dodged, and slid through his opponents, striking with uncanny precision. His fists glowed gold as he punched through enchantments, shields, and illusions, and immortal after immortal fell before him.

The whole time, the master watched with a strange little smile. When the last wave ended, Alex stood over his foes. He was still hurt, the essence he had stolen from the Purple sect immortal long spent. He looked exhausted, and that was precisely what the master had intended all along.

"You are very powerful, O Great One." He put the same mocking lilt on the title that he had used since meeting Alex, but his voice was otherwise as cold as ice. "But you're burning through your magic faster than it can replenish."

Maya, having been largely forgotten, watched anxiously from behind the shield of magic that kept her safe. Unfortunately, the spell also kept her in place. She was an exceptional fighter in her own right, but she did not have the power to fight against the kind of magic being used here. Worried, she fought back tears. She knew she and Alex may not survive this fight, but she was not going to give their enemies the satisfaction of seeing her cry.

The remaining immortals grinned wickedly, and several of them began to gather their strength for a fresh round of attacks. They were hungry for Alex's blood, and they could sense victory in the air. The master waited to see if Alex would respond to his taunt, but he just stood there, his breaths coming in strained heaves.

"I see," said the master. "So be it, then." He turned to his people and waved them forward. "Kill him."

The fight began again. The immortals were whipped into a frenzy by this point. They had lost all reason—they threw all their power at Alex, and they died. After the thirtieth immortal fell, the master's voice rang out.

"Enough," he said. He was flanked by two elders from his sect and more than fifty other powerful warriors.

"Alex, you stand against the combined power of the divine realms," he said calmly. "You cannot win this fight." There was a note in his voice, under the scorn and ridicule, that sounded almost like pity. "You have nothing left."

"Then let's end this," Alex said. He threw his head back and screamed, causing the ground to shake and churning the clouds above him. His body lit up like a small sun, his golden magic briefly blinding everyone in the courtyard. When the light died down, Alex was floating sixty feet off the ground, surrounded once again by the outline of an enormous thunder dragon. He was holding a long saber made of pure golden magic, and his eyes glowed like embers.

Alex spun the sword so that its tip was pointed straight down and screamed again. A beam of black light shot from the sword to the marble floor. The master and some of the other immortals recognized the beam for what it was—a tear in the fabric of reality itself. The entire citadel began to shake. With horror, the master watched the marble on either side of the beam begin to disintegrate into glittering dust.

The remaining immortals began to flee in terror. It seemed like no one could get away from the floating fortress fast enough. Strange patterns began to glow on the marble tiles at their feet and along the stone columns and walls surrounding them, and the place continued to shudder and shake. The patterns flared and winked out, one by one. Amid the surrounding chaos, no one noticed the water dragon swoop in and pluck Maya, shield and all, from the courtyard and spirit her away from the rumbling fortress.

The master looked around in dismay. Alex had uncovered the secret of the High sect's power. The citadel was not held in the air by magic, the fortress was magic. It was as much a construct as the forms and weapons used by the immortals within it. And Alex was dismantling it spell by spell.

Wearily, the master came to a bitter realization. The citadel could not be saved. There was one more secret the High sect held here, but keeping it from Alex, or anyone else, didn't matter anymore. Not to the master, anyway. He spoke a series of words, and the magic of the High sect's palace began to flow into his body, lifting him into the air. It was more power than could be contained in a single form. The master began to dissolve, turning into golden motes of dust and flowing into a spiral before ascending to planes beyond even the divine.

No one could stop Alex from pursuing the Celestial Road, and now he and everyone else in the divine realm knew the High sect's last great secret. The Celestial Road had been guarded by the immortals of the High sect for millennia, and the dissolving citadel was the key to accessing it. The vast structure collapsed on itself in a burst of blinding gold light. All that was left of it floated in the air, waiting for Alex to take it.

It was a small, golden sphere. It was the palace's golden core.