"Anyone else want the Thunder Wings?"
Ethan’s voice echoed through the room.
No one answered.
The surviving Elves had lowered their bows. The Beastkin group wasn’t advancing either. A few creatures from the smaller races looked at Brakk’s corpse, then at the crater still glowing red where Aldren had just been incinerated by the Thunder Flame.
Two Gold-rank powerhouses were dead.
Most of the retrieval puppets had been destroyed.
The formation that had besieged Ethan for nearly twelve hours was down to less than half.
In the air above, Ethan and Laira still hadn’t landed. One carried a purple-silver Thunder Wing, the other had dragon wings sheathed in fire and lightning. The electric arcs connecting the two halves made them look as though they shared a single enormous Mythical pair of wings.
No one dared raise a weapon.
But no one truly knelt in surrender either.
An older Elf standing at the rear of the formation slowly lifted his head. Half his face had been scorched by lightning, and his bow was barely more than a fragment, but his gaze never left the Thunder Wing on Ethan’s back.
He wasn’t looking at the treasure’s power.
He was watching Ethan.
The light on the feathers was no longer as stable as when the Thunder Flame Sky Net had first formed. A few bolts of electricity flickered on and off at the wing’s edge, and the occasional feather trembled as though about to lose its connection.
Blood was also trickling from the corner of Ethan’s eye.
Not much.
Just a very thin line.
But for someone who had been observing the Eye of Truth throughout the entire journey, that sign was clear enough.
The older Elf lowered his voice. "He can’t maintain this state for long."
Those standing nearby immediately turned to him.
A Beastkin with a charred chest looked up at Ethan, his voice still laced with fear. "Brakk is dead. Aldren is dead. You still want to keep fighting?"
"You think he’ll let us walk away if we don’t?"
The older Elf didn’t raise his voice, but the question silenced everyone around him.
Ethan had never said he would kill them all.
But everyone standing here knew that if the positions were reversed, they would never let people who had seen the Thunder Wings’ secrets leave the ruin alive.
Because what Ethan possessed wasn’t just a Legendary treasure.
It was a Mythical treasure.
And he had only just entered Silver-rank tier 1.
Someone who had just reached Silver-rank could already coordinate with his Partner to kill Gold-rank tier 8 and Gold-rank tier 9. If he were allowed to keep growing, reaching Gold-rank, or even stepping into a higher level, how would the people who attacked him today survive?
Not just them.
The clans behind them would become targets too.
The older Elf looked at his surviving kinsmen, then said slowly. "He remembers every single one of us. He also has eyes that can see through rules, see arrays, and track energy signatures. The moment he leaves this place, he can find every clan."
A small four-winged creature immediately went pale.
"But we could swear we won’t seek revenge."
The older Elf looked at him as though looking at a child.
"You trust your own oath. Does he?"
The creature didn’t answer.
Another Beastkin gripped his long spear tight. His gaze lingered on Brakk’s body, then shifted up to Ethan in the sky.
"The Red Fang warband won’t let their leader’s death go. Even if we do nothing, our clansmen outside will still hunt him."
The older Elf nodded.
"And when he retaliates, do you think he’ll only kill the ones who were here today?"
The silence within the formation shifted quickly.
First came fear.
Then unease.
Finally, desperation.
The greed that had driven them to attack Ethan was gone. No one was thinking about seizing the Thunder Wings anymore. What kept them standing now was the feeling that if Ethan survived, they and the clans behind them would have no road left to live.
The older Elf raised what remained of his bow.
"He just broke through. His energy hasn’t stabilized. The technique he used just now burned through nearly all the strength he and the dragon had left."
He looked at the flickering lightning on the Thunder Wings.
"This is our last chance."
The group behind him began to waver.
A few wanted to fall back, but no one actually stepped toward the spatial fractures at the room’s edge. They were afraid that the moment they turned their backs, Ethan would strike.
Korr stood not far away, the entire Stoneweaver clan gathered behind him. The two clanmates who had died in the battle were being carried on the others’ shoulders.
He looked at the older Elf.
"You already lowered your weapons."
The Elf turned to him. "We haven’t surrendered."
"You’ve lost."
"Precisely because we’ve lost, we can’t let him live."
The energy core on Korr’s chest slowly brightened. But he didn’t step forward, only gesturing for his clanmates to move further from the battlefield.
"The Stoneweaver clan will not participate. But if anyone attacks us, that person will die."
The older Elf didn’t try to convince him further.
He knew Korr wouldn’t change his mind. Stoneweavers valued promises and rules above fear. At the very least, they wouldn’t side with Ethan, and that was enough.
In the air, Laira watched the formation slowly reassembling below. The Thunder Flame around her hand was still burning, but the fire was far weaker than when she had killed Aldren.
"They still want to fight."
Ethan didn’t take his eyes off the people below.
The Primordial Armor continuously relayed his energy status. All fifteen hundred feathers were still intact, but the amount of lightning he could control had dropped rapidly.
The technique from before was too powerful.
And too costly.
Ethan’s body had only just entered Silver-rank. His Heavenly Gate still hadn’t fully stabilized. The energy he had accumulated beforehand was nearly spent during the breakthrough and the formation of the Thunder Flame Sky Net.
The Eye of Truth was also transmitting fierce pain.
If he kept the full observation range open like before, his eyes might temporarily lose function.
Ethan lowered his voice so only Laira could hear.
"I can hold out for about ten beats."
Laira didn’t turn to look at him. She only clenched her fist, making the Thunder Flame around her fingers flare a little brighter.
"That’s enough."
The Soul Thread hummed faintly.
Ruo Yan’s voice carried up from below. "I’ll hold the escape route. If you can’t kill them all, both of you leave immediately."
Ethan looked at her.
Ruo Yan was still standing beside the Necromancer, one hand pressing the wound on her shoulder. Blood had soaked half her arm red, but the Soul Thread remained connected to both Ethan and Laira.
He answered calmly. "We don’t need an escape route."
Ruo Yan frowned.
"You only have ten beats."
"Which is why it has to end before ten."
Ethan narrowed the Eye of Truth’s scope.
He stopped scanning the entire battlefield. Only the most critical points remained in his vision.
The older Elf directing the formation.
Three individuals carrying teleportation items.
Two Beastkin preparing combat arts that could strike Ruo Yan.
Four small arrays that had just been raised, deliberately unlinked to prevent the Thunder Flame from spreading between them.
Everyone else was just cover.
The older Elf immediately noticed Ethan’s gaze had changed. He pulled the cracked bowstring taut, dark green patterns appearing on his arm and crawling up his neck.
His weakened energy surged rapidly.
A life-burning forbidden art.
The remaining Elves also began to act. Some cut their palms and used blood to draw symbols on bows and staves. Others crushed green crystals and swallowed them.
The Beastkin group roared in unison.
The blood on their bodies evaporated, muscles swelled, and their eyes shifted to a deep crimson.
Bloodrage.
The creatures from the smaller races also produced their last life-saving items. One held a scroll burning with black fire. Another shattered a sphere containing spatial wind.
No one held anything back.
The older Elf raised his bow, the arrowhead locked onto Ethan.
"Kill him first!"
Everyone struck at once.
Arrows, magic, combat arts, and single-use items all launched skyward simultaneously.
Ethan and Laira immediately split to opposite sides.
The two halves of the Thunder Wings stretched into a long line of electricity across the sky. But this time, Ethan didn’t send all the feathers out to blanket the room.
He controlled only three hundred.
The feathers formed a narrow net between him and Laira, like a corridor of lightning moving with them.
Laira placed her hand on one point of the net.
"Thunder Flame."
Red-purple fire flooded in.
Both of them accelerated at the same time.
The lightning net was dragged across the battlefield.
Arrows that struck it shattered instantly. Magic was torn apart by lightning, and protective energy layers were burned from the inside out by the Thunder Flame.
Three Elves who couldn’t dodge in time were swept by the net. Their bodies seized up and dropped to the ground.
But there were too many incoming attacks.
Ethan couldn’t see and control everything the way he had before.
A spatial wind sphere slipped through a gap and detonated near the Thunder Wing. The cutting force knocked more than ten feathers out of position, and Ethan’s body was shoved to the left.
Laira immediately flew over and caught him with her dragon wing.
"Beat one."