Sometimes, no matter how well one prepared for the upcoming typhoon, the sheer force of vortexes, raging wind and unending rain would still sink and blow one’s house open. Fortifying with ropes and heavy objects like sandbags or stones on the roof? It didn’t care. Where it swept over, everything was just like a tiny ant standing before the almighty elephant. Running away or sneaking behind a stone was an option, but ultimately, the ant’s only hope of survival was for the elephant to not accidentally trample it under the gigantic, pillar-like legs.

  Zalanir had found himself under the same predicament at the moment. He had his own assumptions about the power of the soul being summoned in this chamber, but turned out that even doubling what the stag had was still him being too na?ve. What he thought was a level 8-9 typhoon ended up being at least five levels ahead, and the worst of all, the jump in one level wasn’t just linear. It was exponential.

  It descended and pressed on his mind from every direction, leaving no gap for him to even think about running away. There was no probe; instead, it pounced on him like a beast seeing food for the first time in forever. Unlike the previous ritual, where the souls wrenched his mind toward the summoning altar, this time, perhaps because he was already right next to it, the soul just went full berserk mode and attacked non-stop.

  The outer layer soon fell to the aggression. He had fought back with his mana at the initial wave, but was helpless. The difference in strength was just too much.

  He cursed himself for being too reckless. The initial idea was to lure the soul in and then he would gang up with the soul siblings to fight back. He envisioned a hard fight, but still, it was his mind, so the local terrain was his advantage. No, as if it was. There was no such thing as terrain here. What was he even joking about?

  Zalanir sarcastically smiled and shook his head. It was all his fault. He had experienced a double bagel at his first pro match for being a greenhorn, but now, even after everything, he still made the same mistake. Though unlike just being out of the tournament, the mistake this time would result in him losing his life.

  Pain overwhelmed him as the invader kept on chewing away his mind. One bite. And another. And another. He could only watch on. Scream? His throat was dried like a river in a drought already. It was weird, as he could no longer feel the pain from having his very existence being gnawed upon piece by piece. No, it was the pain of being stupid and defenseless that was eating him away.

  But then he saw it. After the invader had taken over more than 40% of his mind already and trampled further in, the two soul siblings that he had transported back inside were headbutting the cage and hollering, as if they were yelling at him to let them out. A part of their small bodies stretched out through the gap of the cages toward the incoming invader.

  That was …

  “Hahahaha.” Zalanir burst out laughing.

  What was he even doing? Chickening out like this after getting a bagel in the first set? What a pitiful person he was. Even these two “losers” that he had defeated were putting up a fighting spirit like that, so what the hell was he doing here sulking about death? Hell yeah, even if he would end up dying, this was his mind, his home, so there was no way he let the invader wander in and take everything without letting them taste hell.

  Think, Zalanir. Think!

  Zalanir forced his mind to overwork. His thinking speed was getting slower and slower as the invader continued its march, but still, he had to find a way. Not that he needed ten plans, nor that he could even devise such a number at this moment. No, one was enough.

  With more than 25% mana left, and the two siblings, if he could combine them together, it would be a big surprise punch. But would that be enough? No, too weak. The two souls’ enthusiasm was commemorable, but still, the difference between them compared to the invader wasn’t just two sides of a river, but a river and an ocean.

  Zalanir ceded more and more territory and pulled back deeper and deeper inside his mind. The final bastion. He needed to find one to make a last stand. Wasting his mana and the two souls’ power randomly wouldn’t be a wise choice. But where would that be?

  He continued to retreat with the two tiny souls. It wasn’t like he had an avatar or something inside his mind. That would be weird. No, he just marked a spot between the two cages with his mana to act as if he was there to better track his path. He wouldn’t need it if his mind was still fully functional, but with less territory came slower thinking processes. The invader was chewing it second by second, after all.

  50% in. Zalanir burned one-third of his mana on an explosion to stretch the distance between him and the enemy. Everything started to blur a little bit. Not in the same vein as with his eyes on a rainy day, but there was a cloud hanging over his mind that slowly blocked his consciousness and thinking.

  65% in, Zalanir was about to remove the cages, but then he held. Not yet. He could still move. A stray thought earlier had brought down a giant hammer that had almost spelled the end for him. That final bastion existed. Something told him as such.

  80% in, and he couldn’t think of anything else rather than following a hunch for an abstract place that he had no idea where. He was now just running inside a foggy storm. But then he remembered. It was light a ray of sunshine cutting through the typhoon, telling the people who were trapped inside that there was still hope. So, that would be the final bastion. Zalanir stopped moving. The enemy was coming from all directions, but that perhaps was a blessing in disguise. He channeled his mana together and put his “hands” on the two cages at the same time. A chance. He wasn’t out of the fight just yet. Kept looking.

  90% in. Where? That was the only question on his mind at the moment. Nothing else mattered. He focused everything on this single bet. A stray thought would 100% mean the end for him. Oh, that … His attention was on a small empty spot remaining in the middle of the invasion. A raft …

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  95% in. Zalanir spent the last piece of thought shooting his mana to the left while also ordering his hands to release the lock. Two roars graced his ears, making him smile in that instance. And that smile, with the two corners of his lips only twisting up slightly, was his last action. Please reach it.

  97%. His mind was officially “dead” now.

  99% …

  ***

  Putrieta swiped off the purple bolt flying his way. What were those idiots even doing? Destroying the ritual?

  He wanted to go there and stopped the charge, but Wagenner just remained here, so he couldn’t just go there and not look suspicious. Why was Wagenner here, though? Didn’t he worry that something would go wrong there? Was this confidence or blindness?

  That bladestorm … brave, but foolish. Why sacrifice herself for the others? She could just wait and win after he took over the soul and killed Wagenner. Wanted to make a name for herself, or that she held no trust in his ability to handle the situation?

  Boosting his companion’s speed, he increased the intensity of the assault and gave the enemy three cuts on the right flank. See? I can finish this fight whenever I want.

  No one was looking? Great! Their captain was here, holding the true fate of this raid in his hand, but they chose to follow a reckless charge comprising … who? Two middle-rated enforcers, two hunters, and a bait? That lizard man looked decent though; credit where the credit was due. Likely the strongest of the bunch, but still, a bunch of weaklings, nonetheless.

  What a pathetic cult, unable to stop a simple charge of five. Oh, six now. Hiina also joined them? He would have to talk to her dad and her leader later. What was this blatant disrespect for their captain?

  Oh, that soul essence was getting stronger. Good job! They should’ve done that from the beginning. It would save him so much time to not have to play this stupid game. Though maybe that charge wasn’t bad. Good catalyst to spur the cultists into action.

  He shifted his eyes toward the sealed off jail at the prison area. That would be the host. These cultists just had no grace letting that rotten stench leaking out like that. Did they seriously think no one would take notice?

  Five purple bolts flew at him at a staggering pace, prompting him to recall the sword to block them. But then, his legs were rooted to the floor by purple tentacles. Dashing out? What was this sudden change of tactics? Why the rush?

  Took him a brief moment to sever all the chains, and then he chased after the cultist boss. Like do I allow you to leave? His sword companion hummed and shot straight at the man’s leg, but a purple wall blocked it midway, and then these purple tentacles growing out from the floor trapped him again.

  That bait had reached the altar? Okay, maybe they were better than he had thought. But Wagenner’s reaction? Had something gone wrong there?

  An unease feeling stirred inside his body. No, nothing could happen. Empowering his weapon companion by coating it in gold color, he sliced all the tentacles and rushed after Wagenner. Now stopped and told me what was going—

  Once again, his sword was blocked in its fly path. A cultist was hunkering down behind a big silver shield between him and Wagenner. To the right was another holding two red blades standing tall. Their eyes were brimming with purple energy.

  “Get out of my way.” Putrieta had no time for this little game. Temporary took over two cultists to block his path? Wasn’t that too disrespectful?

  Moving the sword in a series of zigzags targeting the two cultists from all directions, he outmaneuvered the shield bearer and pierced the enemy’s back from behind. Then, hundreds of gold magical swords appeared around his companion, slicing and finishing the target from the inside out.

  Five seconds were all it took him to kill the first empowered cultist, enough for him to call back the sword and parry a slash from the other one. This one wasn’t even worth him doing anything fancy. Just one parry and a swipe to take control of the fight, two cuts for the two arms, and a thrust in the throat to finish the man.

  Trash! You better finish the summoning soon, else your death won’t be too delighted. Putrieta muttered and sprinted after Wagenner.

  Grgggggggggggg! An earth-shattering roar filled the chamber, signaling a major development in this raid. Everyone halted their fighting, as if moving would be an insult to the incoming power and would result in their death.

  There it was! He stopped in his tracks and focused on the immense pressure emanating from the ultimate soul that was taking shape in the middle of the ritual. His sword was shaking and continuously poking his hand with its hilt.

  “I know, I know. The time has come.” He caressed his mate with his trembling hand. “You are mine!”

  Putrieta let go of his buddy. The sword continued to hover around him, acting like a guardian in the rare case of something happening. Then he channeled. A symbol of a cradle materialized on his chest right below his heart as green hue energy flew to his spot from the soul essence.

  At the same time, Wagenner acted like a lightning rod, absorbing the soul and guiding it toward the sealed cage. The man shot angry eyes at him, but it didn’t matter. With Asylum of the Sacred Bond, he could usurp everything. What that man was doing was just to harvest whatever was left. He had to give the man his pity. Trying so hard just to have everything stolen right at the threshold of heaven.

  Putrieta bathed and enjoyed himself in this euphoric feeling. Tracking Wagenner, buying his records from the academy, and luring those hunters to this place — piece by piece, everything was going according to his plan. This feeling was truly the best, when every step happened just as he envisioned.

  This soul was powerful alright. He would expect no less from a being of the Second Ring. He would also be there soon. Then the house would be his. The patriarch role would be his. He would open the golden age for his—

  Empty? His eyes opened wide in genuine astonishment.

  There was no more green energy flying his way, or Wagenner’s. The soul essence on top of the altar was gone. Even the altar had stopped radiating green light. There was nothing else around the altar, except the corpse of the bait lying there since the beginning.

  What happened? This was it?

  For the first time in forever, the chamber was void of any sound. An eerie and uneasy stillness engulfed the whole place. Like the calm before any storm, it pressured everyone who dared to make the first move.

  Growwwwllllll!

  And two bestial roars tore that silence apart, signaling that the storm had arrived.

  We all have 24 hours a day. Thank you for spending some of that with me!