CHAPTER 212: Space

  Three formation barriers overlapped one another, layers of protective light and power shimmering as they rippled in defiance of the chaos around them—each meticulously deployed by Elyria and Zehra.

  Tunde vaguely recognized the source of the formations as high-grade, perhaps even priceless, formation discs—artifacts not easily obtained, let alone used with such precision. Their efforts created a bulwark against the relentless tide of rift creatures now surging toward their position, clawing and screaming with maddened purpose.

  But Tunde didn’t care.

  He stood outside their protection, a silent sentinel cloaked in fury, his own barrier cast above the trio like a steel curtain of intent. It shimmered faintly, pulsing with the raw edges of void power.

  He had said nothing since the assault began—no cries of warning, no commands—only the measured, ceaseless swinging of his blade. Strike after strike, rhythm after rhythm, his every motion cleaved through abominations drawn to them, their flesh and bone unable to withstand the void-tempered edge.

  They were being directed—he knew it. The Keeper.

  It had to be the Keeper driving them, manipulating the battlefield from the shadows. Tunde’s fury simmered beneath the surface, held in check not by discipline but by ice—cold, tempered rage that refused to boil over.

  With each void spear he hurled down, each slash that detonated reality itself, his emotions crystallized further, feeding the concept he now fully embraced. It was no longer just his path—it was a revelation.

  The Void Devourer, in its infinite hunger.

  The Boundless Asura, in its savage purity.

  And in that dance of destruction, both were made manifest.

  He barely noticed when the others joined him. Zhu's presence was the first he became aware of, not because of words, but because of power. Where Tunde was silence, Zhu was thunder—no longer wielding his sickles, but transformed, clad in claws of jade, each movement unleashing the wrath of a divine beast incarnate.

  He was fury, incarnate. Divine. Unrelenting. The Ethralite proved once again why he was among the strongest beings Tunde had ever fought beside.

  Even as the storm of monsters slowed and the ash-rain clung to their armor and skin, Tunde pressed forward. Through bloodied mud, through crushed crystal cores, he carved a path, his blade steady. Behind him, Zhu harvested the cores with practiced efficiency, keeping pace.

  Daiki had been stabilized—barely—but that single fact was all that prevented Tunde from abandoning reason and flying headfirst into whatever trap the Keeper no doubt had waiting further ahead.

  But the heavens saw his fury.

  And in their cruel mercy, they sent him prey.

  A band of independent cultivators—rogue dogs with ties to the Unorthodox Sect—came hunting, drawn by whispers that their group had been weakened, wounded, and scattered. They expected an easy victory. Instead, they walked into slaughter.

  The first, a dual-element wind and water cultivator, barely had time to scream. Zhu removed both his arms in a single swipe before crushing his skull underfoot, the sound like thunder on stone.

  That alone should have broken their spirit.

  But when it didn’t, and they dared to fight, Tunde moved with the clinical efficiency of a man possessed. He didn’t rage—he unraveled. He tore through a dozen of them, methodically dismembering limbs and leaving behind nothing but blood-mist and broken remains. Some fled, but none escaped.

  He dropped the Dominion of the Void Realm without a word.

  The air cracked, then folded. The ground shattered. A field of crushing force—a manifestation of the pure aspect of power—descended upon the battlefield, slamming the rest into the earth like insects.

  And in that exact moment, as they screamed beneath the pressure and the void twisted around him, Tunde’s mind broke through the veil. A spark—an epiphany—surged through him. The concept shifted, blossomed. Power rushed in like a tide, and he was forced to stop. To kneel.

  To meditate.

  He closed his eyes and listened.

  A few had escaped. A handful.

  Some had fallen to Sera’s blood arts, their bodies drained and shriveled. One unfortunate soul had been trapped within a cruel, coffin-like construct that Elyria had summoned from her void ring—massive, silent, and iron-bound.

  His cries echoed briefly before being swallowed, then silence. When his void ring dropped to the earth with a dull chime, no one asked questions.

  They all saw the coffin.

  They understood what it was for.

  And none dared speak of what they had heard from within it.

  Tunde had no idea how long he had remained in that position, still as stone, submerged in the depths of his spirit. Time had lost all meaning the moment the epiphany struck—a force so immense and all-encompassing that it sent shockwaves through the very concept of the Void Devourer he had forged.

  The pressure bore down on him from within and without, reshaping everything he thought he understood.

  And then, just as his awareness dropped deeper into the quiet chasm of his inner world, he stood before it again.

  The wolf.

  Majestic and terrifying in equal measure, it loomed over the shadowed expanse of his spirit realm. Its presence was absolute, unmoving, and watchful—but this time, the space around it had changed.

  Three distinct entities now floated before it, suspended like celestial bodies in a void of infinite potential.

  The first was massive—a great glowing sphere that radiated a gentle, steady light. From Tunde’s current position, it looked like a miniature sun, yet its brilliance was subdued, colored not in fire but in a muted, luminous grey. Swirling with balanced tones of black and white Ethra, it pulsed like a heartbeat. Even before his mind fully processed it, his spirit knew what it was.

  His core.

  Orbiting it like moons were three smaller orbs—though each was still massive in its own right, more akin to drifting worlds than satellites. But he understood them instinctively. These were the aspects that formed the framework of his concept.

  The first orb was a solid grey, emanating waves of compressed pressure. It trembled with a power that could crush mountains—a manifestation of Force in its most primal, unfiltered form.

  The second orb hovered in gentle contrast: a deep, midnight blue, trailing ephemeral wisps of cold mist. It held the tranquil, deadly beauty of winter, biting yet silent. This was the Void Ice aspect—stillness and consumption fused into a singular truth.

  The third orb…

  It shimmered into full visibility right before his eyes, condensing from a nebulous blur into something solid. Unlike the others, he couldn’t name it instantly. Not until the recognition resonated within him—not as a thought, but as an echo of technique, a memory of that technique made manifest.

  Void Step.

  Not just a technique. It was a law—a truth. And as the realization clicked into place, he turned to the wolf for guidance. The creature stared back, unblinking, unmoving, not offering answers but expecting them. Expecting him to understand.

  So he did what he had done outside—he sat.

  Beneath his core and the spinning constellation of orbs, he crossed his legs and mirrored the stance of meditation he had assumed on the battlefield. In that moment of spiritual stillness, he focused on Void Step, letting it unfold within him.

  The void was between all things—that was the foundation. It was why he could move in the blink of an eye, crossing impossible distances in an instant. This wasn’t just a trick of speed; it was an interaction with law itself. The law that space could be bypassed if the void was understood.

  His core trembled. A shiver of resonance surged through it, responding to his clarity. He felt the truth stir inside him—dim, like the first glow of dawn, but unmistakably present.

  He breathed deeply, gathering himself, then began to recite silently all he knew of the void.

  Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  It consumed all.

  Even distance. Even depth.

  That was how he had created his void space—a realm unto itself, divorced from normal dimensional boundaries.

  Again, the surge came stronger. His spirit trembled as Ethra began to pour from his core, not just flowing, but flooding into his manifestation. The skies above—if one could even call them skies—lit ablaze with essence, dancing in ethereal flame as the power siphoned into him.

  And then, the wolf moved.

  A howl—not of menace, but of awakening—pierced the space, a sound that struck his soul like a hammer. His entire being quaked as raw energy slammed into him, and he understood.

  Others defied the laws of heaven using tools—Nexus Keys, artifacts meant to break the bindings of reality. But he didn’t need one.

  The void devoured law.

  It was law.

  Distance was meaningless in its presence. It followed its own truths.

  “Yes,” Tunde whispered as the final revelation hit him like a wave of clarity.

  The third orb pulsed in response, its form no longer vague or elusive. It solidified before his eyes.

  “Space,” he thought.

  And with that word, the orb fell into perfect harmony with the others, locking into orbit around the core like it had always belonged there.

  The Void occupied space. It was space. And yet it wasn’t.

  Both were one in the same, and he embodied them now—anchored by the force that could crush, the chill that could silence, and the law-defying truth that allowed him to step across the bounds of heaven and earth, at least in theory.

  Tunde snapped his eyes open in the real world, heart still echoing the pulse of insight from his spirit. Around him, the others stared—not at him, he realized—but above him. Slowly, he tilted his head upward.

  A massive, yawning black hole floated above, its edges twisting and writhing as it began to seal itself shut, the last remnants of its pull dying down into nothingness. Tunde frowned, a flicker of confusion tightening his brow. Was that… the result of my epiphany?

  “What was that?” Zehra asked softly, her voice tinged with awe.

  Tunde noticed then—the rain had stopped falling directly around him. A void hung in its place, a vacuum where the water refused to exist.

  “Something… related to my path,” he replied, rising to his feet with deliberate ease, his weapon slipping smoothly into his grasp.

  “Most of the rest are heading toward the center of the island,” Elyria said, not looking at him but at a flickering construct in her palm, runes dancing faintly across its surface.

  “The Rift Guardian is there... and so are the strongest monsters.”

  “You can see them?” Harumi asked, glancing toward the Zao clan scion.

  “I have little spies,” Elyria answered cryptically, offering no further explanation.

  Tunde gave a single nod.

  “Then that’s where we’re heading.”

  “What about Daiki?” Zehra’s voice dropped, barely a whisper.

  “Last I heard, he’s the only one left from his sect within the island.”

  Tunde didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he vanished—Void Step activating so seamlessly now it felt like blinking—reappearing beside Daiki’s crumpled, unconscious form. The monk’s chest rose and fell faintly, the only sign of life.

  Tunde crouched beside him and retrieved a small, crystalline shard from his pouch—an escape device, untouched since the tournament began.

  “I hope you forgive me for this, brother,” he murmured.

  “But I can’t lose another friend. Not like this.”

  He guided the shard into Daiki’s palm and gently closed the monk’s fingers around it. With a faint crack, the shard shattered, releasing a soft glow. A column of light descended from above.

  A moment later, a figure emerged—an Ascendant master, hands folded neatly behind his back, presence calm yet immovable.

  “We were not to interfere,” the master said flatly.

  “But he’s dying,” Tunde countered, standing tall despite the weight of the master’s aura.

  “The last of his sect here. He doesn’t have the luxury of choice anymore.”

  The master’s gaze lingered on Daiki’s still body. He showed no sign of pity when he finally spoke.

  “There is a law in place for such interference.”

  Tunde braced himself.

  “In exchange for intervention, you will forfeit all the Rift Creatures you’ve slain. Their counts will be transferred to the monk.”

  The others immediately began to protest, voices rising, but Tunde silenced them with a raised hand.

  “I accept, honored master,” he said calmly, bowing in deference.

  The master nodded once.

  “Good. Additionally, you must obtain the core of the Rift Guardian. Only then will you be eligible for the individual rounds.”

  Zhu let out a low growl and took a step forward, his fury barely contained. Tunde's eyes narrowed, but he said nothing. The master remained unmoved, features hidden behind the ceremonial mask he wore.

  “Others across the island have already agreed to the same terms,” he added with a chuckle.

  “You don’t have the luxury of time if you truly wish to save your friend.”

  “Agreed,” Tunde said without hesitation.

  The master nodded. With a single flex of aura, Daiki’s body lifted into the air, then vanished alongside the master in a ripple of light and wind.

  “That was nonsense and you know it,” Sera snapped, her tone like steel.

  “I wasn’t in a position to refuse,” Tunde replied calmly.

  “Besides… it opens a door.”

  “I’m not seeing it,” Jing muttered.

  Tunde turned to face them, his weapon collapsing back into its polearm form with a metallic hum.

  “I no longer need to chase Rift Creatures,” he said, voice steady.

  “All I have to do now is bring down the Rift Guardian. That simplifies things—and plays to my strengths.”

  “You did hear the part where others are also going for it, right?” Elyria reminded him sharply.

  “It makes no difference,” Tunde replied, his tone absolute.

  Jing blinked at him, then smiled slowly, savagely.

  “Oh, I like you. I really like you.”

  Tunde said nothing.

  “Has anyone actually been to the center of the island?” he asked casually.

  “No. Why?” Zehra responded, eyes narrowing with suspicion.

  Tunde simply shrugged.

  “We need to get there quickly. Flying—even at top speed—might not be enough.”

  “I might have a solution,” Elyria said, somewhat reluctantly.

  All eyes turned to her.

  “I want you to know—it’s still a work in progress. Just a little something I was tinkering with. Don’t blame me if it backfires,” she added quickly.

  “Any help you can offer is appreciated,” Tunde said, bowing slightly.

  “Stop that,” Elyria snapped, catching him off guard.

  “I hate when you get all formal. Every one of us here knows what you’re willing to do for us. You’ve proved it more than once.”

  Tunde didn’t answer, uncertain if that was entirely true. Elyria, Zhu, and Sera—yes, perhaps. But Zehra, Harumi, Jing? He didn’t know… and hoped he wouldn’t be forced to find out.

  From her void ring, Elyria summoned a construct—a large, hovering vessel shaped like a sleek, rune-inscribed boat. It shimmered with blue light and hummed with wind Ethra, floating just above the ground.

  “I designed this as a fast-escape vehicle. Simple and mobile. But it’s not stable—rough runes, lack of proper tools. I only started working on it on the way to Talahar,” she explained quickly.

  Tunde placed a hand on her shoulder, his voice quiet and reverent.

  “Thank you.”

  She blinked, nodding silently, caught off guard by the sincerity.

  They all boarded. The boat expanded slightly to accommodate them, handrails forming along the sides.

  “You might want to hold on,” Elyria warned.

  “It’s made to escape tough fights. You know what that means.”

  Gripping tightly, they barely had time to brace before the boat shot forward with a thunderous bang, breaking the sound barrier in an instant. A protective barrier shimmered into place, shielding them from the wind’s full fury—though none of them were weak enough to be bothered by it.

  As they rocketed through the skies, flocks of Rift Creatures rose like black clouds, screeching and chasing after them. The group ignored them—focused, silent, slicing through the sky like a blade through silk.

  Below, the island blurred in a dizzying rush of color and motion. Then—without warning—a beam of light shot into the sky from the island’s center, followed by a thunderous roar that shook the air itself. The boat shuddered violently, veering for a moment, but stabilized.

  And there it was.

  Suspended above the island’s heart was a floating structure—a fortress of stone and steel, ancient and immovable. The center of the storm. The lair of the Rift Guardian.

  And their destination.

  Right at the center of the floating island stood a humanoid creature wielding a two-ended spear—an entity unmistakably powerful. Its presence exuded the raw, oppressive aura of a peak Grade 5 true beast, or perhaps a cultivator at the Highlord Realm.

  Yet, what struck most was that it had already achieved a complete humanoid form—a sign of immense control over its advancement.

  Two vast black wings unfurled behind it, each feather etched with writhing streaks of living lightning. Its avian-blue eyes, crackling with electric power, turned sharply toward their incoming vessel. Tunde and the rest had arrived—and it seemed they were the last.

  All around them, the skies were a maelstrom of chaos. Mid-tier grade 5 Thunderbirds soared in flocks, shrieking war cries as they rained bolts of lightning down upon the scattered cultivators below.

  Ethra shields and talismans flared and shattered mid-air as strike after strike carved through the battlefield.

  “Join the rest! Watch each other’s backs. At this point, we can only trust one another,” Tunde ordered.

  Without hesitation, he launched himself off the boat, a blast of Ethra propelling him like a missile toward the humanoid beast.

  The true beast snapped its head in his direction with precise, unnatural awareness. It raised a single finger, and in a blink, a formation circle bloomed at its tip—intricate, crackling blue lines of power spinning into life.

  A deluge of blue lightning erupted from the formation, roaring through the air in a devastating hail of force.

  Tunde twisted through the barrage, his Ethra sight guiding every movement. His weapon shifted mid-flight, the polearm extending into a gleaming naginata. But even that wasn’t enough—the sheer pressure of the onslaught slammed into him, flinging his body through the sky.

  He crashed into the ground like a falling comet, landing on his feet with a thunderous impact. Dust erupted around him as he steadied his gaze—and found himself facing a towering cultivator clad in silver-gray armor, wielding what looked like a colossal slab of unsharpened cold iron. It was more a battering ram than a sword.

  The aura of Force and Metal Ethra radiated off the cultivator in waves. He pointed his crude weapon at Tunde just as more enemies encircled the area—six cultivators in total.

  In a coordinated movement, talismans flashed into their hands, and a massive formation locked into place beneath Tunde’s feet. Ethra lines connected the group, and a translucent barrier rose high around them, sealing him inside.

  “The Keeper sends his regards,” the metal-wielding cultivator said coldly.

  Before Tunde could respond, projection techniques hammered into him from all six directions—raw, coordinated power meant to overwhelm and erase. But Tunde's blood stirred. He activated his bloodline ability—Devour—and the energy was consumed. Every bolt, every blast, every ounce of intent dissolved into nothing as a growing storm of dust and sand swirled within the barrier.

  Minutes passed. Silence followed.

  “Is he dead?” one of the cultivators asked, the voice uncertain.

  Empty Silence answered.

  With a thunderous crack, Tunde struck. One brutal blow exploded the skull of the Force and Metal cultivator, his body thrown back like a ragdoll. Tunde caught the man’s massive weapon mid-motion, the cold iron slab now infused with Joran’s Wrath.

  He pivoted, slamming the makeshift weapon into another enemy—the impact shattering bone and Ethra barriers alike. A third barely had time to scream before Tunde’s naginata ripped through his jaw, silencing him forever.

  Around them, the formation faltered. The glowing lines of Ethra flickered, then crumbled to ash. The barrier dissolved into motes of spent power, and the talismans ignited one by one, vanishing in a hiss of flame.

  With Void Realm expanding around him—its force and ice aspects freezing the very air in place—Tunde moved like a tempest. He swung his naginata once more, Empty Silence layered again with Joran’s Wrath, and shattered the remaining enemies where they stood. Crushed armor, broken bodies, and silence followed in his wake.

  Standing amidst the wreckage, surrounded by the defeated, Tunde raised his gaze once more to the true beast high above—and shot into the sky toward it, a spear of power rising from the earth to challenge a storm.