Resurrection!

In an instant, Harry unleashed the full force of his training. The Gale Sword, a technique mastered from the Gale Breathing Method, exploded in a flash of power. It was the first time he had used it with all his strength, and the effect was immediate and overwhelming.

Boom!

The collision of the swords sent shockwaves through the air. The force was so intense that the ground beneath their feet seemed to tremble. The Great Elder's body jerked backward, as though he was a leaf caught in a violent wind. He flew through the air like an uncontrollable kite, blood splattering from the deep gash on his side. His sword shattered into pieces, fragments of steel raining down to the ground like broken glass.

Steven stood rooted to the spot, his eyes wide in shock. He stared blankly at the scene before him, unable to comprehend the raw power that Harry had just unleashed. The Great Elder, one of the Black Council's strongest; had been defeated in a single strike. The impact was almost unreal.

Steven's mind raced. Just a few months ago, Harry had only recently risen to gym leader-level status, having defeated George in a remarkable victory. That in itself had been impressive enough, Harry's future had seemed bright and full of promise. But what he saw now, the sheer power and control Harry demonstrated, made the gym leader level seem like nothing.

Could a person really transform so drastically in such a short amount of time? It was almost unthinkable. Steven took a deep breath, trying to steady his racing thoughts. He had underestimated how far Harry had come.

The ground was still, the dust settling after the explosion of power. Harry stood calmly, his golden sword in hand, eyes fixed on the fallen Great Elder. Then, his gaze shifted upward, toward the central altar looming before him.

The altar stood tall, emitting a slow, pulsating light. An inexplicable aura wafted from it, the energy almost tangible in the air. As Harry watched it, a faint sense of familiarity washed over him. It reminded him of the ruins he had visited, but there was something different; something darker, about this power.

"Ceremony," Harry muttered under his breath, a realization dawning in his mind. His instincts told him that what was happening here was far more than just a ritual. He could feel the overwhelming surge of energy coming from the altar.

The entire city of Malian was within the scope of the ceremony, and the power being drawn was immense. If this succeeded, the consequences could be catastrophic. The Black Council had spoken of it, releasing their sealed gods and Harry now knew that this ritual was likely the key.

Steven, standing beside him, shared similar thoughts. The gravity of the situation hung heavily between them. They moved forward, intent on reaching the altar, but as they approached, an invisible barrier appeared out of thin air, blocking their way.

Harry raised his sword, ready to strike, but as soon as he did, he felt the futility of the effort. His blade collided with nothing, as if there was an impenetrable wall in front of him. He stepped back, puzzled. He tried again, and then again, but each attack was absorbed, the barrier remaining firm and unyielding.

"Useless," came a voice from the side, cold and mocking.

The Great Elder, blood still staining his lips, stood shakily to his feet, watching them with a dark, knowing expression. His strength had been shattered, but his words still carried weight. "The ritual has already begun," he said, his voice laced with exhaustion and malice. "This barrier is powered by the strength of the entire ceremony. You can't break it."

He took a slow step forward, his tone hardening. "No matter how strong you are, what can you do against the force of a city's bloodshed? The power of this ritual is beyond your comprehension."

Harry frowned at the Great Elder's words. His thoughts raced. The ritual wasn't just drawing on the Black Council's prior sacrifices, it was tapping into the collective power of the entire city. Every drop of blood spilled, every life taken, was feeding into the ceremony. The scale of this power was unprecedented.

A small, uneasy feeling crept into his chest. How could anyone stand against that? How could one person's strength compare to the power of an entire city, its people unwillingly offering their blood and life to fuel this ritual? The answer was clear: even at the gym leader level, this was far beyond what he could face alone.

Steven seemed to sense the weight of the situation too, his expression hardening. Both of them understood the truth, they couldn't fight this with just their strength. The power they were up against was like a natural disaster, unstoppable and overwhelming.

Harry's hand tightened around his sword. He wasn't ready to give up yet, but he knew that if they didn't find a way to stop the ritual, the entire city would fall into darkness.

"Give it up," the Great Elder coughed, a few droplets of blood staining his lips as he spoke. His voice was ragged, but there was an undeniable excitement in his eyes. "When the ceremony is complete, our god will be freed. The entire world will be ours to command."

He wiped the blood from his mouth, a cruel smile curling at the edges of his lips. "If you know what's good for you, it's not too late to surrender now."

Steven's expression darkened, his gaze sharp. "Submit to you and become a sacrifice for your blood ritual?" He let out a bitter laugh, the sound mocking. "You've got quite the track record when it comes to that, don't you?"

Steven then turned to Harry, his eyes filled with warning. "Zack, don't trust him." His voice was low but urgent. "In the past, those who believed in them never came to a good end."

The words seemed to hang in the air, heavy with the weight of truth. Steven was right, there was a reason the Black Council was reviled. They twisted beliefs, manipulated people, and used blood sacrifices as if it were nothing more than a means to an end. Their promises were hollow, their methods brutal, and their credibility was non-existent. People who had placed their trust in the Black Council's false promises were left broken and betrayed.

Harry's expression remained neutral. He looked at the Great Elder with a cold gaze, not even a flicker of doubt crossing his face. "I see," he said, his voice calm, indicating he wasn't swayed by the words or the threats. He wasn't here to be convinced or swayed by any of the Black Council's tricks.

Harry stood still, his mind already far from this moment. Life and death meant little to him right now. What stood before him wasn't the real him, it was merely a clone, a fragment of his being that had come here with a singular purpose. From the moment he had stepped into this situation, he had known the risks. He had been prepared to die here.

His only hesitation now was in how to maximize the outcome. He had one goal in mind: to stop the ritual, if possible, and gather what power he could from this battle.

He turned his focus forward, his gaze locked onto the altar in front of him. The ritual was in full swing, and the energy swirling around it was growing, rapidly escalating. He could feel the power in the air, thick and palpable. The simulation energy levels were nearing 400, a dangerous threshold, one that was already beyond what he had anticipated. With that much power, he might not be able to regain his full strength, but more was still needed. Much more.

Boom!

The ground trembled again, a series of dull thuds resonating through the air. Harry looked up, his attention drawn to the sky, where strange things were beginning to happen. The blood-red moon above, which had hung still for so long, now seemed to shift.

"What is that?" someone exclaimed from behind him. "Is there someone inside the moon?"

Harry's eyes narrowed as he gazed at the eerie phenomenon. As the people around him looked up in awe, he saw it; a shadow, slowly forming within the crimson glow of the blood moon. The figure appeared gradually, becoming more distinct as it emerged from the depths of the celestial orb. Its form was shackled, bound by chains that wrapped around its body like iron ropes, holding it in place.

As the ritual continued, the figure shifted, its limbs twitching, as if testing the strength of its restraints. It seemed to be preparing to break free from the chains, to emerge from within the moon itself. The air around it shimmered with dark energy, thick with an oppressive force.

"Hahaha!" The Great Elder's laughter echoed through the air, a sound filled with manic joy. His eyes were wide with fervor as he looked up at the moon. "It's happening! Resurrection! Great God of the Blood Moon, lead us to the other side!"

Harry's heart skipped a beat as he stared at the figure in the moon. "Is that the god and devil of this world?" he murmured under his breath, his voice laced with a mix of awe and fear.

The shadow within the moon was unlike anything Harry had ever felt. Even though the figure had not yet fully materialized, its presence was suffocating. The power radiating from it was godlike, terrifying and vast. It was as if a true deity was emerging, and all lesser beings were insignificant before it. Even someone with the strength of a great knight like Harry felt like an insect beneath its gaze, utterly powerless.

A cold chill swept over Harry as he realized the magnitude of what was happening. The revival of the Blood Moon God was an event of world-shattering importance. The figure within the moon was no mere myth or legend; it was real, and it was waking up. If the ritual succeeded, the world would never be the same.

'We must stop it,' Harry thought fiercely. The realization hit him like a thunderclap. If he could stop the ritual now, the rewards would be unimaginable.

But the barrier. The invisible force that separated him from the altar, from the heart of the ceremony, it was still there, blocking his every move.

He gritted his teeth, looking around for any way in. His mind raced, trying to find a solution. The energy around him felt like a wall, a thick, unyielding wall that kept him from reaching the altar. How could he get through?

Suddenly, an idea sparked in his mind. He felt a surge of clarity, and for the first time since stepping into this battle, he had a plan. It was risky, dangerous, and it could fail, but it was the only chance he had.