Chapter 1191: Empire’s prison

"If Isabella were here," Eztein murmured, "she could refine this into potions or pills and double its effects..."

His voice trailed off, the cold air carrying the unspoken wish into the cavern’s vast silence.

The statues watched—silent, towering, unmoving—as the three stood among the frozen remnants of a world warped by ancient power.

He turned his head toward Esriel.

"Esriel, do you know what kind of fruit this is?"

Esriel blinked, snapping out of her fascination with the statues. She shook her head.

"I don’t. There are countless types of spiritual fruits out there—far too many to memorize. At the very least, I’ve never seen that one before."

"Hm..." Eztein murmured, staring at the legendary-grade fruit in his palm. Its surface pulsed faintly, as though something inside it breathed. He couldn’t help but wonder what kind of power it would grant him.

He exhaled, shook his head, and found a flat, frost-coated stone to sit on. Then he closed his eyes, lifted the fruit to his lips, and bit down.

He consumed the legendary fruit in a single motion.

Ohm!!

A tidal wave of power detonated inside him.

Energy roared through his body—wild, volatile, trying to tear itself free. Eztein immediately forced his focus inward, wrestling to contain the surge. His aura flared like a storm held inside a cage.

Doranjan and Esriel stepped back, watching intently. The energy fluctuations of a Seventh Shackle Realm cultivator were rapidly being compressed, squeezed inward until the air itself shuddered. The ground vibrated beneath their feet. Frost cracked across the frozen magma.

After a moment, Esriel turned away, her gaze drifting back toward the statues.

"I’ll continue examining them," she said quietly, her footsteps echoing as she walked toward the grand platform—unaware that something beneath the surface of the stone was beginning to stir.

...

An hour later, a tremendous force erupted from Eztein’s body, shaking the ground. Lightning bolts crackled outward, arcing across the cavern floor and ceiling like a living spiderweb of energy, illuminating the frozen magma and crystal shards in jagged, dazzling flashes.

Eztein opened his eyes, and a satisfied smile spread across his face.

"How is it?" Doranjan’s voice echoed softly in the cavern.

Eztein glanced over. "It’s... perfect. I’ve completed the second enhancement."

The legendary-grade fruit had far exceeded his expectations. It didn’t just grant him power—it transformed him. His mana capacity surged, his strength and speed skyrocketed, and his body hummed with newly refined energy.

The technique he had been using accelerated the refinement of both his mana and his physical form. With the second enhancement complete, only eight more remained before he could attempt to break through to the next shackle.

Esriel stepped closer, eyes wide. "You’ve only finished your second enhancement, but it feels like you’ve been at the Seventh Shackle Realm for ages."

Eztein chuckled lightly.

"The technique I’m using... is a little special." He opened his palm, and dense lightning began to dance across his arm, crackling like miniature storms confined in his body.

"The greatest improvement beyond just my mana capacity is the Fusion Stage."

Indeed, he had achieved Fusion Stage with his lightning element. His elemental power had fused seamlessly with his body, flowing through him as one with perfect harmony. Now, only his earth and fire elements required refinement before he could unleash the Triple Element Drive once again.

The cavern hummed with his power, lightning snapping around him, the frozen magma reflecting his energy like a storm captured in stone. He could feel the next stage of his journey within reach.

"Fusion Stage at the Seventh Shackle Realm... you’re something special," Esriel murmured.

Few could ever achieve Fusion Stage at the Seventh Shackle Realm. Only the most gifted warriors could attain such a feat and Eztein had just completed his second enhancement, making it all the more astounding.

"Special? I don’t think so," Eztein replied with a laugh, standing tall. Satisfaction radiated from him; this improvement felt substantial, a leap that even he hadn’t fully expected.

Ever since breaking through the Seventh Shackle Realm, his progress had slowed dramatically. Unlike the Sixth Shackle Realm, where growth was rapid, mastery at the Seventh required painstaking refinement of both mana capacity and the body itself before one could sense the next shackle. Some experts could feel the Eight Shackle after seven enhancements, others only after eight—it varied by individual.

But with his current technique, Eztein was determined to reach the tenth enhancement.

He turned to Esriel, curiosity in his gaze. "So... what did you discover?"

Esriel’s eyes flicked toward the platform. "A teleportation array."

Doranjan and Eztein exchanged puzzled looks.

"I don’t know where it leads," she admitted, shrugging helplessly. "I only discovered the array itself etched into the platform." She pointed upward, toward the cavern ceiling. "Look. There’s an ancient word carved above us. It says... Arbor."

"A tree?" Eztein asked, frowning.

"No!" Esriel shook her head. "It’s the name of the previous user of the Gluttony."

"What?!" Both Eztein and Doranjan froze, the revelation hitting them like a bolt of lightning.

A chill ran through the cavern, heavier than the cold air or frozen magma. This discovery was no mere curiosity. It was a warning.

The murals Chief Zandir had shown them depicted an evil god capable of devouring everything—a force so immense it seemed to point directly at the Ruler of Gluttony.

"From what I can interpret," Esriel began, her fingers tracing the air as if she could touch the echoes of history, "the previous Ruler of Gluttony fought against both Angels and Fallen Angels. I don’t know the full details of their battles, but it seems likely to be true. The former Ruler clashed with countless beings, leaving devastation in their wake."

She paused, letting the weight of her words sink in. "The people who survived that era... perhaps they created these statues and this place so that the godly battles of the past would not be forgotten."

Doranjan and Eztein exchanged glances. Her explanation resonated with them—it aligned perfectly with what Chief Zandir had shown. History, it seemed, had always found ways to etch itself into the world, even centuries later.

Perhaps, hundreds of years from now, others would create monuments to commemorate the current war—the one being waged now by the present Ruler of Gluttony.

Esriel broke the heavy silence. "So... what are you going to do? Activate the teleportation array, or not? Honestly, I don’t want to go wherever it leads."

Doranjan and Eztein remained quiet, pondering. The other side of the array was a complete unknown. Any step could carry them into unimaginable danger. They had no way of knowing what waited beyond—only that activating it would either bring discovery... or disaster.

The cavern felt colder, heavier, as if it were holding its breath, waiting for their decision.

Esriel let out a quiet sigh as she watched the duo—monster and human—exchange a wordless understanding. She knew, deep down, that they would enter the teleportation array.

She didn’t know why, but a chill ran down her spine. Her unease was heavier than anything she had felt when the angels were hunting her, a premonition far darker and sharper.

After a long pause, Eztein’s eyes flicked toward her.

"We’ve decided," he said calmly. "We’ll collect the other legendary fruits on this island before returning here."

Doranjan gave a slow nod in agreement.

Esriel exhaled, a faint relief brushing her features. For now, they were not stepping into immediate danger. But eventually... they would return here. She had no idea what awaited them on the other side of the array.

Still... they could handle themselves.

A Seventh Shackle Realm expert. A Fifth Evolution Stage monster.

No ordinary force could stop them.

...

Great Spirit Continent.

A cold wind swept across the land, carrying with it the sharp scent of frost and ozone. Above, the stars and a pale moon pierced the night sky, yet their light barely penetrated the thick white fog that now blanketed the continent—its source unknown, unnatural, and suffocating.

Chaos raged everywhere. Battles erupted across every province, villages and fortresses alike swallowed in smoke and flame.

In the heart of this chaos stood an empire, the undisputed strongest force on the continent.

Ten million soldiers marched under its banners, their armies spanning plains, rivers, and mountains alike. For decades, they had dominated this land. But now... they were losing control. Outsiders had appeared from nowhere, powerful and unrelenting, and the empire’s vast legions were struggling to keep them at bay.

Night had fallen, and the white fog only added to the terror, cloaking movements and masking attacks. Countless soldiers were sent out, relentlessly hunting for these mysterious invaders, yet many never returned.

Far below the surface, in the bowels of the empire, Vashno crouched in the shadows.

This underground lair was no ordinary hideout... it was a prison, a place drenched in suffering. Its corridors were lined with victims of unimaginable torment, their cries echoing through the darkness, a constant reminder of the empire’s cruelty.

The cold breeze above seemed almost gentle compared to the stench of fear and blood that lingered here.

Vashno’s eyes glinted in the dim light, reflecting a mixture of resolve and calculation. The world above burned, but down here... down here, something else was stirring.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.