The wind howling near the monolith outer wall of Morvane did not carry the scent of ash anymore; it carried the static hum of absolute authority.
Barn stood alone at the base of the massive cracked masonry, his boots buried ankle-deep in the pulverized cobblestones.
He took a single, deep, chest-expanding breath, pulling the atmospheric pressure down until his lungs felt like iron bellows.
Slowly, deliberately, he brought both of his massive, calloused hands in front of his chest. His palms were cupped outward, perfectly parallel, as if he were holding the very core of his ancient Earth-Zheki source—a thick, roiling mass of invisible gravitational weight.
Then, he began to bring his hands closer together.
It was a slow, crushing motion, like a man flattening a lump of unyielding clay between his fingers.
He was shrinking his energy, compressing an ocean of seismic force into the size of a single pebble between his palms.
Then it started.
First came the sound—a low, rhythmic, bass-heavy groan that vibrated through the marrow of everyone still breathing inside the kingdom.
Then, the entire Kingdom of Morvane began to shake. The grand golden towers of the upper district wobbled like stalks of wheat in a gale.
Across the perimeter, the colossal, ancient outer walls—structures that had withstood centuries of siege engines and high-tier military assaults—began to split.
Vertical fissures ripped through the granite blocks from the foundation to the parapets.
With a deafening, thunderous roar that sounded like the sky itself tearing open, the massive fortifications of the kingdom gave way, collapsing outward into mountains of harmless, tumbling gravel.
The great cage of Morvane was gone in an instant.
Meanwhile, out in the desolate expanse of the eastern sands, the massive metal sphere Barn had hurled was resting silently near a cluster of jagged dunes.
Around its impenetrable surface, two stout, green-skinned goblins were frantically grunting, swinging rusted iron pickaxes
against the dense, Zheki-infused metal casing.
Clang! Clang!
The sparks flew wildly, but the metal didn't even show a scratch.
A few yards away, near the base of the crumbling mountain ridge, two other goblins one female one male,furiously digging a trench in an attempt to undermine the kingdom's
perimeter foundations from the outside.
Suddenly, the ground beneath their calloused green feet violently surged.
The thunderous echo of the collapsing walls rolled across the desert like a tidal wave of sound.
The two goblins at the sphere froze, their pickaxes hovering mid-air.
They turned their large, pointed ears toward the horizon, watching in absolute awe as the grand, oppressive walls of Morvane settled into a low, flat line of dust.
The female goblin dropped her shovel, a massive, fanged grin splitting her face. With a high-pitched cackle of pure, unadulterated happiness, the two digging goblins abandoned their trench, and the two pickaxe-wielders tossed their tools aside.
Without a backward glance at the unbreakable ball, all four of them began sprint-hopping toward the ruined border, screaming with joy as they rushed inside the newly opened, defenseless kingdom to pillage the remains.
Back at the epicenter of the destruction, Barn lowered his hands.
The dust from the fallen walls swirled around his grease-stained guard uniform.
He looked up toward the glittering spires of the inner citadel, where King Lucas Morvane resided.
For a brief second, the old instincts flared—the dark, heavy urge to stride up the golden steps and pull the monarch's head from his shoulders.
But Barn stopped himself, a low, tired sigh escaping his chest.
I haven't fought a real war in fifteen years, he thought, looking down at his knuckles, which were slightly trembling from the sudden, massive exertion.
My heart is out of rhythm.
I'm not entirely sure if I'm still capable of winning a prolonged battle against the royal line without losing everything else.
Inside the dark, silent safety of the unbreakable metal sphere, the air was warm and smelled of ozone.
Elena lay on her back, the initial wave of shock passing.
Though her body was a map of cauterized punctures and ragged tears, she gritted her teeth and dragged her trembling arms across the metal floor.
With a soft, maternal groan, she pulled the unconscious Hanjun to her right side and the limp Jayhon to her left, locking them both into a tight, desperate embrace.
"Don't die on me, boys,"
she whispered.
The brilliant, vibrant emerald light of her Life-Zheki flared within the enclosed space, filling the interior of the ball with a thick, soothing green mist.
She poured every remaining drop of her life force into their small bodies, knitting their internal organs and soothing the raw trauma of their bruised flesh.
Outside, a heavy thud shook the exterior of the sphere.
Barn had executed a massive, soaring leap from the city ruins, landing precisely beside the metallic vault.
He didn't break the seal.
Instead, he bent down, wrapped his massive arms beneath the heavy sphere, and hoisted it onto his shoulder with a grunt.
He began to walk.
To ensure the violent vibrations didn't hurt or jostle the three fragile lives recovering inside, Barn moved with deliberate, agonizing slowness.
His steps were measured, rhythmic, and perfectly balanced as he set off into the scorching, trackless sands of the deep desert.
He walked for three days straight.
No food.
No water.
No sleep.
The wasteland was alive with ancient malice, but to the Golem King Slayer, the horrors of the wild were nothing more than minor nuisances.
On the first afternoon, under the blinding glare of the sun, the sand shifted.
Four bleached, clicking skeletons erupted from the dunes, their rusted scimitars raised as they charged the giant lone man holding a giant metal ball.
Barn didn't even slow his pace.
Having fought the undead legion in his youth, he knew their structural nature perfectly.
As the lead skeleton sprinted within ten paces, Barn simply tapped the heel of his boot against a loose stone on the ground.
A microscopic vibration shot through the
sand, tapping the skeleton's right hand.
Clack.
The undead warrior's index finger suddenly detached and fell into the dirt while it was still running.
The remaining three skeletons immediately skidded to a halt.
They looked at the fallen finger, then looked at their comrade, and then—in the bizarre, twisted logic of the waste—they all began to clatter their jaws together, laughing silently
but hysterically at his expense.
Insulted, the fingerless skeleton turned around and delivered a sharp punch straight
to the foot of the loudest laughing skeleton.
Crack.
The punching skeleton's entire arm detached, while the laughing skeleton's foot shattered into pieces.
The group completely forgot about Barn.
They collapsed into a pile of bony, silent laughter, pointing at each other's missing limbs.
They waved a bony hand toward Barn, gesturing for him to just go ahead; they didn't need to hunt him anymore today.
By the first night, the temperature plummeted, and the shifting shadows brought a pack of six snarling, green-skinned desert Orcs, their massive iron clubs swinging.
Barn didn't want the noise to wake Elena.
He stamped his left foot with immense force, pulling a chunk of solid bedrock out of the sand. With a swift flick of his toe, he kicked the giant boulder directly into the chest of the lead Orc.
The rock shattered upon impact, sending a spray of sharp pebbles that stung the Orcs' thick hides.
Terrified by the casual, monstrous strength of a man carrying a multi-ton metal ball with one arm, the pack let out a series of frightened yelps, turned tail, and vanished into the darkness.
On the second night, a small group of heavily armed mountain Dwarfs emerged from a rocky defile, their crossbows leveled.
The captain of the squad, an old dwarf with a braided gray beard and a deep scar over his left eye, squinted through the gloom at Barn's massive, unmistakable silhouette.
The captain's jaw dropped.
He quickly raised his hand, signaling his men to lower their weapons.
"Stand down! Stand down!"
the dwarf barked. He looked at Barn with deep, solemn respect, recognizing the legendary general who had saved his clan's mining outpost from an underground collapse decades ago. The dwarf gave a silent, appreciative nod, gesturing for his squad to clear the path, allowing the giant to pass in absolute peace.