Chapter 76: The Golden Spite
Ten kilometers deep into the Wildlands, the earth had ceased to be soil. It was a churning lake of molten glass and dark, toxic slag.
The air was completely devoid of oxygen, entirely replaced by the suffocating pressure of two beings whose sheer existence warped the laws of physics.
Elder Mathews floated three feet above the scorched earth, his midnight-blue robes billowing as waves of demonic, metallic-gray mana poured from his body.
His face was twisted into a scowl of genuine strain.
He was fighting a man who had completely abandoned reason.
Patriarch Vance Hennessey stood amidst the burning glass.
His pristine armor was scorched and dented, but his posture was terrifyingly perfect.
The golden broadsword in his hand hummed with a violent, holy frequency.
"Your son died screaming, Hennessey!" Mathews roared, launching a barrage of massive, dark-iron spears from the corrupted fog.
