Ancestral Lineage - Chapter 233

Chapter 233: The Bow That Calls the Storm. The Abyssal Fusion
The winds howled with unnatural intensity, spiraling around Luciel as his entire being pulsed with raw, unchained divinity. The silver light emanating from his form twisted the very fabric of reality, forcing the storm into an unnatural stillness—the silence before a calamity.

Then—

The world cracked.

The space above Luciel split apart, and from within that endless void, something descended.

A bow.

But to call it simply a bow was to insult its majesty.

It was an instrument of absolute destruction.

The frame was crafted from aether-forged silver, impossibly sleek, shifting between solid form and pure light. The limbs of the bow extended like sculpted wings, their edges razor-sharp, pulsating with divine runes that carried the language of storms.

Strings of woven lightning crackled in an endless hum, vibrating with a resonance that set the very air ablaze with power. With each passing second, the bow fed on the surrounding wind, drawing in the atmosphere itself as if it were the very heart of the storm.

Then—

A single name echoed across the battlefield, carried by the whispers of the storm itself.

“Zephyros.”

Luciel’s fingers curled around the grip, and the moment he touched it, a cyclone exploded outward. The bow sang, its resonance so powerful that the entire sky trembled.

The storm was no longer a mere force of nature.

It was his will.

Ethan’s golden eyes narrowed, feeling the shift, his battle instincts screaming warnings. His spirit beasts bristled—Stygian let out a thunderous snarl, Maverick’s golden eyes gleamed with the calculations of Alchemy, and Angitia coiled tighter, sensing a terrifying threat.

Luciel lifted Zephyros, and the world moved with him.

His voice carried through the tempest, laced with triumph and unshaken certainty.

“Let’s see if you can outrun the storm, Ethan Smith.”

Then—

Luciel drew the string.

And the sky itself darkened.

The moment Luciel drew Zephyros, the sky ceased to exist.

All color, all light—everything—was swallowed by the hurricane of power gathering at his fingertips. The bowstring, woven from pure lightning, crackled as it strained against his pull, shaping a single arrow of condensed storm essence.

It was not merely an arrow.

It was the will of the wind itself.

The instant Luciel released it—reality shattered.

The battlefield was ripped apart as the arrow soared, moving too fast for thought, for sound, for existence itself. It was pure annihilation, an unstoppable force that could tear through mountains, kingdoms—worlds.

Ethan barely had time to react.

“ANGITIA!”

The red serpent coiled tightly around his body, her psychic energy distorting the very air around them. The space bent—and for a moment, it seemed like the arrow would miss.

It didn’t.

The moment the arrow reached them, it split apart into thousands.

“GAH—!”

Ethan was torn from the sky, his body sent crashing downward as the storm-infused projectiles rained down upon him and his beasts.

Angitia let out a screeching hiss, her body convulsing as the arrows tore through her astral form. Galeno, the titanic tortoise, raised his impenetrable shell, but the sheer force sent him skidding across the battlefield, carving trenches in the earth.

Maverick’s alchemy barrier shattered upon impact. The gargoyle let out a guttural snarl, barely keeping himself together as golden cracks spread across his stone-like skin.

Stygian lunged at Luciel in retaliation, his three heads snarling with necrotic fury, but before he could reach him—

Luciel simply raised a hand.

A sudden, violent gust of wind slammed into Stygian, lifting his massive body and hurling him away like a mere insect. He crashed into the ground with a thunderous BOOM, the land quaking beneath his weight.

“This is what it means to be in the Saint Realm.”

Luciel’s voice was absolute.

He moved like the embodiment of the storm itself, vanishing and reappearing in the blink of an eye, his body a blur of motion and devastation.

Ethan tried to rise, his entire body aching, but Luciel was already there—above him.

A kick to the ribs.

The force ruptured the air, sending Ethan flying once more. He barely had time to summon blood armor before Luciel was upon him again, his movements too fast, too unstoppable.

A strike to the chest.

The sheer force cracked his ribs despite the armor, blood spilling from his lips.

Luciel didn’t stop.

A spinning kick—the winds curved unnaturally, bending around him—and Ethan was slammed into the ground, cratering the earth beneath him.

His vision blurred.

His body screamed in pain.

Even with his beasts, even with all of them fighting together—they were nothing before Luciel’s overwhelming might.

Tia and Seraphis moved to protect the others from the battle’s aftershocks, their divine energies forming barriers against the devastation—but even they could feel it.

The gap.

The difference.

This wasn’t a battle.

It was a massacre.

Luciel landed gracefully, the air bending to accommodate his presence. He gazed down at Ethan, his expression a mix of amusement and mild disappointment.

“This is the extent of your power?”

Ethan struggled to rise, his golden eyes burning with defiance even as blood dripped down his chin.

Luciel let out a sigh.

Then—he raised Zephyros again.

The storm gathered once more.

“Stay down, Ethan Smith. Or the next shot will not leave anything behind.”

Ethan’s breath came ragged, blood pooling in the cracks beneath him. The world around him howled, battered by the sheer force of Luciel’s power, a force so vast it threatened to erase him entirely.

But he didn’t fall.

He couldn’t.

Not when his family still fought.

Not when the weight of their trust—their souls—rested upon his shoulders.

Luciel lifted Zephyros, its bowstring drawn back once more, a second arrow forming, denser, deadlier, more final.

“Stay down,” he repeated, his voice still calm, but now edged with something absolute.

Ethan wiped the blood from his lips, exhaling slowly. Then—

He smiled.

“You really think that’s gonna stop me?”

Luciel’s eyes narrowed.

And then—

The world shook.

It wasn’t a tremor. Not a quake. Not an aftershock.

It was something deeper.

Something primordial.

The bonds between Ethan and his Spirit Beasts shifted, a power unlike anything before awakening from within.

And then, it happened.

Sync.

A surge of energy tore through him, his body shattering and reforming, the very fabric of his existence interwoven with those who had fought by his side, those who had bled for him, suffered for him, trusted him.

Their souls did not merely connect.

They became one.

Angitia’s serpentine form wrapped around his essence, her psychic power fusing with his mind, expanding his perception to infinite depths. His pupils became slit, his consciousness stretching outward.

Galeno’s titanic power anchored him, his very presence now akin to an unbreakable foundation, his skin hardening with the strength of the earth itself. His veins pulsed with geokinetic force, his stance unshakable.

Maverick’s alchemic energy engraved itself into his core, his once-fluid tattoos becoming inscribed with divine formulas, ever-changing, ever-adapting. The secrets of transmutation and reality-bending alchemy flowed through his very being.

Stygian’s necrotic force merged with his heart, an eternal flame of deathly purple fire surging through his limbs. Shadows slithered beneath his fingertips, his aura now reeking of inevitability—of a fate even death could not deny.

Onyx, the Formless, did not bond.

It consumed.

Dark tendrils slithered around Ethan’s body, his left eye completely engulfed in black infinity, his very essence a paradox—both presence and absence.

Luciel’s grip on Zephyros tightened.

For the first time, he felt it—

Something unknown.

Something he could not calculate.

And then—

Ethan created it.

His weapon.

The air thickened with his Creation Magic, threads of Blood Magic weaving together as an ethereal shape took form in his hands. His veins pulsed, his body burning as the fusion of his affinities—Psychic, Earth, Alchemy, Necromancy, and Curse—coalesced into a single ultimate construct.

A weapon that was not bound by shape.

A weapon infinite.

Its first form:

A Warhammer.

It was colossal, the head of the hammer a monstrous fusion of Stygian’s necrotic flames and Onyx’s abyssal darkness, writhing with the power to crush both flesh and soul. The shaft was carved from earth and steel, Galeno’s unbreakable might shaping its foundation, while golden alchemic runes—Maverick’s gift—shifted along its length, ever-changing, ever-enhancing.

And in an instant—

It shifted.

The hammerhead collapsed inward, transforming into a razor-sharp spear, vibrating with psychic force, Angitia’s influence making it move before thought itself.

Then—a greatsword.

Then—a chain.

Then—a pair of daggers.

And then—back to the Warhammer.

Luciel’s expression remained unreadable, but deep in his silver eyes, a flicker of something foreign sparked.

Doubt.

Ethan lifted his head, his form no longer human.

He stood at nine feet tall, his muscles honed but not bulky, his body wreathed in flowing inscriptions of gold, silver, and abyssal black. His crystalline horns gleamed, his ears elongated further, his very aura—

Indescribable.

And then—

He vanished.

Luciel’s eyes widened—

BOOM!

A shockwave detonated as Ethan appeared before him, his newly forged weapon already mid-swing. The colossal Warhammer came crashing down with the force of a collapsing sun.

Luciel barely dodged.

The impact obliterated the land beneath them, shattering stone and earth, carving a crater so deep it seemed to reach the planet’s core.

Luciel reappeared in the air, his body slightly blurred from the sudden movement. His armor were torn, the first sign that he had actually been grazed.

A flicker of amusement danced across his lips.

“So… this is your answer, Ethan Smith?”

Ethan exhaled, tightening his grip on his weapon as it shifted into a spear, spinning around him like a vortex of destruction.

“No,” he said, his voice like thunder.

“This is just the beginning.”