Ancestral Lineage - Chapter 448

Chapter 448: When He Goes Berserk, Even Chaos Fears

The moment Leon prepared his next move, the battlefield dimmed, not from lack of light, but because every spark of reality seemed to recoil. Chaos thickened. Dread condensed. Something intimate and predatory coiled behind Leon’s smile.

A new sigil spun open behind him. It wasn’t wild like his previous attacks; it was deliberate, poised, crafted with the precision of a monster who knew exactly where to stab.

“Shall we peel the beast?” Leon whispered, voice curving like a blade.

Dread Path: Heart-Eclipse Mirrorgloom.

The sigil pulsed, and the world vanished around Ethan.

Ethan’s vision shattered the moment the illusion began, yet the images remained imprinted on his mind. Leon’s attack struck not only at his reverse scale but directly at the deepest recesses of his fear, manifesting it with unflinching cruelty. He saw Leon, with that cold, smirking face, dragging one by one of his wives before him. Each of them, Barki, Elaine, Asteria, even the smaller, more delicate face of Harley, cried and screamed, their pleas piercing like needles into his heart. The scene was disturbingly detailed, with Leon’s power seeming to bend reality to his sadistic will, making every agonized expression, every tear, every shudder of fear feel inescapably real.

The illusion extended to Delphina, his daughter, whose innocence made the assault even more unbearable. She looked at him with desperate eyes, silently begging for him to act, to stop it. Even though Ethan’s rational mind knew this was not real, the attack had a weight, a suffocating realism that caused his body to tighten, his heart pounding as if every blow was physical. His reverse scale glimmered under the attack, reacting violently as it absorbed some of the chaotic energy and tried to counter it, but the imagery was insidious. Every flicker of light, every wisp of shadow, seemed to twist the vision, amplifying his pain, feeding his rage.

Ethan’s breath came out harsh, his chest heaving as fury ignited deep within. His claws dug into the ice-laden ground, and his tail lashed violently. His golden-silver eyes, now slitted and feral, glowed with an intensity that made the very air shimmer. The fur along his body bristled as he let the full weight of his wrath wash over him. The illusion tried to press further, making him feel helpless, but the surge of anger shattered the bonds of fear that Leon had tried to impose. He could see through the layers of deceit now, but the hatred it sparked burned brighter than anything before.

The earth beneath Ethan cracked, fissures spreading like veins of molten gold through the snow and ice. Waves of energy radiated outward, distorting the battlefield. The Path of Order flared into being, intertwining with Mysticism, and every rune of his aura began to spin rapidly, forming an intricate lattice that hummed with raw power. Ethereal symbols of time, fate, and cosmic authority coalesced into a golden net that pulsed with divine resonance. His claws ripped through the air, each swing releasing arcs of force that tore ice, stone, and energy alike. The anger, focused and sharpened, made him unpredictable, merciless.

Leon faltered. He sensed the shift immediately. The chaotic aura he had wielded with confidence now met a storm far greater than expected. Ethan’s power climbed in a way that defied logic, surpassing the limits Leon had assumed were absolute, given his current regression. Each strike, each spell woven into the Path of Order and Mysticism carried the weight of a Primord awakening, resonating with the fundamental laws of existence. The illusions shattered mid-air, fragments of twisted reality scattering as if a gale of pure wrath swept through them.

Leon’s smirk flickered. His mechanical blue eye widened as he noticed the raw, untamed potential rising before him. Every second he hesitated was a second Ethan’s fury crystallized, and that fury was no longer just anger; it was the apex of survival, protection, and vengeance rolled into one unstoppable tide.

Ethan’s tail lashed, claws raking through corrupted ice constructs surrounding him, sending shards flying like deadly projectiles. His golden-silver eyes gleamed with lethal precision. The Path of Order and Mysticism intertwined with his elemental control, telekinesis, earth manipulation, necromantic energy, psychic pressure, sound, curse, and subtle concepts, creating an aura that seemed to bend the very flow of battle itself.

The battlefield began to warp under Ethan’s sheer will. Ice turned to steam, snow became shards of obsidian-like crystal, and the ground heaved as though reality itself quaked from the intensity. Leon’s wings cleaved through arcs of energy, sending shards of frozen tech and corrupted ice in every direction, but the barrage was met with a countercurrent of golden fury. Ethan struck with a speed and precision that was almost unnatural, every blow carrying the fury of his vision and the righteousness of protecting everything he loved.

Leon’s aura flickered as he raised his claws, the Path of Chaos and Dread flaring violently. He created jagged spears of ice and shadow, projecting them toward Ethan’s heart, attempting to overwhelm his defenses with both physical and conceptual assaults. Yet Ethan’s claws, the primordial mark on his forehead, and the mystical lattice of energy around him absorbed and redirected much of the damage, shattering the constructs into nothingness as they reached him.

The more Ethan fought, the more he fed off the rage born from the illusion. It had triggered something deeper than fear, something primal. His roar, half-human and half-beast, echoed across the frozen plains, shaking Leon, the ice, and the corrupted constructs alike. The very wind seemed to bend to him, carrying with it the weight of his wrath and the inevitability of his retribution. Every strike became a reckoning, every movement a declaration: Leon had touched what he should never have, and now Ethan’s fury would be a storm unlike anything the world had ever seen.

The battle intensified further, the clash of Paths, Order, and Mysticism against Chaos and Dread, raging like a tempest. Each second became an eternity, and every motion reshaped the environment. Every thought of his wives and his daughter, who had been taunted in the illusion, fueled a power climb so rapid that it forced Leon onto the defensive for the first time in the fight. Ethan’s golden-silver eyes glinted as he lunged forward, claws extended, ready to strike at the core of his enemy with the weight of a Primord awakened by vengeance.

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