Chapter 1229: Fighting the Calamity: The Door, the Past, and the Truth III

Time flowed onward, swift and merciless.

Souta watched as years slipped by like drifting shadows. At seventeen, Saya stood tall at her academy’s graduation ceremony, her presence already carrying the weight of power. She had successfully stepped into the Shackled Realm, forcibly tearing apart the limits of her own body, one shackle at a time. Each breakthrough left her stronger, more refined.

Her talent did not go unnoticed.

Before long, she became a direct disciple of one of the Vajra Race’s God-rank beings. From that moment on, her name spread throughout Vajra City and beyond. She was spoken of with awe, her future seemingly already decided.

A seed destined to bloom into a God-rank existence.

Proposals followed.

Families of influence and power openly discussed marriage, eager to bind her potential to their families. Saya ignored them all. To her, such matters were meaningless distractions. Her only focus was strengthening herself, breaking the limits imposed by flesh and fate alike.

Souta remained a silent observer on the sidelines, unseen and unheard, watching her life unfold without the ability to interfere.

Then, the peaceful times had vanished.

A sudden commotion erupted within the Tur’Lhan Family estate, tension flooding the once-lively halls.

"A war has broken out," Saya’s grandfather announced grimly. His voice carried authority earned through age and strength. "The demons of the Demon’s Land are wreaking havoc along our borders. Their intentions are unclear, but I have been dispatched to reinforce the defensive line."

As the oldest and most powerful member of the family, his words carried finality.

War descended upon the Vajra Race.

Their warriors were mobilized, flooding toward the frontlines to protect their ancestral lands. Battles erupted with terrifying ferocity. Blood stained the earth, and lives were lost but the Vajra Race held firm. Not a single demon managed to breach their defensive line.

The conflict escalated.

The fighting at the front grew so intense that even higher existences were forced to intervene. In the end, one of the Vajra Race’s God-rank beings descended upon the battlefield.

With a single, overwhelming move, the frontline was erased.

The land itself was annihilated. The demons, terrain, and lingering malice were wiped clean as if they had never existed.

Souta absorbed every report that passed through the Tur’Lhan Family.

Through their discussions and through Saya herself, he pieced together fragments of the wider world. Wars, shifting powers, uneasy alliances... all of it flowed past him like an endless current of information.

By this time, Saya had already reached the Fourth Shackle Realm.

For someone at her level, she was terrifyingly strong. Her movements in battle were swift and precise, every action calculated and efficient. She fought like a battle mage, combining close-range combat with spellcasting, though the magic she wielded was still largely limited to lower-tier spells. Even so, in her hands, those spells were executed with deadly mastery.

Her family spared no expense.

Vast amounts of resources were funneled into her, accelerating her growth at a remarkable pace. With their full support, her strength surged steadily, her potential sharpened into something dangerous.

Then, without warning, the demons ceased their war.

At first, it was only an uneasy lull. Battles still erupted across the world, but the demons were no longer among the aggressors. Their sudden withdrawal unsettled every major faction. Suspicion spread quickly, and before long, countless eyes turned toward the Demon’s Land.

That was when the truth was uncovered.

Calamity had broken out.

Unknown entities, beings that seemed to emerge from nothingness, descended upon the Demon’s Land and erased an entire demon nation in a single day. Cities vanished. Bloodlines were wiped out. Nothing was left behind but ruin.

Faced with such overwhelming destruction, the factions within the Demon’s Land had no choice but to abandon their internal conflicts. They were forced to unite, turning their blades outward to confront the calamity head-on. The Demon’s Land fell into complete chaos.

Souta listened to the reports in silence, his expression darkening with every word.

All the signs were there.

These events were not isolated accidents. They were clues, pieces of a greater pattern. As realization slowly took shape in his mind, he couldn’t help but think of the world as it was now...

And of what it might soon become.

It was the same as the current world.

The calamity had already begun.

Souta understood it now. He had brushed against its edge before his evolution, but what he faced then was only a prelude, a distant echo. The true calamity was still approaching, and it was far closer than anyone realized. The abnormal surge in mana density, the strengthening and distortion of the laws themselves. These were not coincidences. They were preparations.

The Imperium was arming the world for war.

Souta continued to observe.

The calamity spread without mercy, swallowing the entire world. It did not stop at the surface; sub-worlds collapsed, and even lower dimensions were dragged into the conflict. No realm was spared. Factions under the Imperium mobilized one after another, and even those dwelling within the Dream Realm found no refuge from its grasp.

War became the only constant.

Battles erupted everywhere across continents, within fractured dimensions, and in realms that should never have intersected. God-rank beings moved again and again, clashing with enemies that emerged from nothingness, entities born of ruin and malice. The cost was beyond comprehension.

Hundreds of billions perished. Entire factions were erased from existence, their names and legacies wiped clean. Monster Lords unleashed their hordes, leading oceans of beasts into the fray. There were no exceptions, no neutral ground, no place left untouched.

Even the gods began to fall.

Some God-rank beings were slain outright, vanishing completely from the world as if they had never existed. Others, unable to face the endless slaughter, desperately searched for a way out, any escape from a war that devoured everything it touched.

This was a scale of conflict the world had never known.

Not conquest.

Not rebellion.

Extermination.

It was a brutal war, one that did not seek victory, only annihilation.

The Vajra Race was holding its ground.

Their God-rank beings had taken action early, descending upon the frontlines with overwhelming might. Compared to other factions, the Vajra suffered far fewer losses. Wherever their gods appeared, the battlefield stabilized, entire enemy advances were crushed before they could take root.

Souta was listening to a tense conversation between Saya and her parents, quietly piecing together the state of the war when a violent pain suddenly stabbed into his mind.

His vision shattered.

Ohm!!

The scenery around him twisted violently and collapsed, as though the world itself had been torn apart and rearranged in an instant.

Souta snapped his head up.

The sky had turned pitch black.

Ominous energy poured downward, blanketing the land like a suffocating tide. The air screamed under the pressure, and even the ground trembled as if it were bowing to something unseen.

Figures hovered high above.

"You’re here!!"

The voice was thunderous, carrying wrath and authority that shook the sky. It echoed across the land, reverberating through Souta’s very soul.

A figure stood at the forefront of the sky.

He had blazing red hair, a thick beard, and a pair of imposing horns that curved proudly from his head. His presence alone distorted the air around him. Behind him floated several figures with similar features, their auras formidable but there was no mistaking it.

He was their leader.

Boom!!

A series of violent shockwaves erupted without warning. Explosions tore through the sky, and deafening detonations rolled endlessly, overlapping one another like the roar of collapsing worlds.

Souta stared upward, his breath caught in his throat.

There was no doubt about it.

God-rank beings were clashing in the sky.

The scenery around him changed once more.

Ohm!!

Souta spun around in confusion, his senses lagging behind reality. When his vision steadied, he saw people were running past him.

Their faces were twisted in raw terror, eyes wide with despair as they fled without direction or reason. The distant thunder of battle rolled endlessly through the air. Explosions, roars, and the shrill screams of the dying blending into a single, maddening cacophony.

Souta’s thoughts became sluggish.

It felt as though something was boring directly into his mind, instilling intense pain directly into his mind. He could only endure it as he looked at the people from the Vajra Race.

"Ahhhh!!"

"N-Noooo!!"

"RUN!!"

"Argh!!"

Their cries echoed from every direction. He saw it all, the destruction unfold around him.

The enemies emerged through the chaos.

They resembled the dark apparitions Souta had fought before. They were amorphous, corrupted, and steeped in malice. Yet there was something different about them. Their forms were more stable, more complete, as if they were perfected versions of the same nightmare.

Boom!

Boom!

The ground convulsed violently beneath his feet, splitting and collapsing as if the land itself were screaming. The air boiled with overwhelming force, waves of pressure tearing through buildings and bodies alike. The mighty Vajra Race was collapsing.

Once-proud warriors fell in droves. Millions of civilians fled in every direction, desperate to escape, yet the enemies pursued relentlessly. No matter where they ran, the calamity followed.

Battles erupted everywhere.

Ordinary members of the Vajra Clan, those who had never known true war, were swallowed by the fighting. Their screams were drowned out by explosions, their lives extinguished in an instant.

There was no order.

No mercy.

Only annihilation.

And Souta could do nothing but watch as an entire race was dragged toward extinction.

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