Chapter 1273: When the Throne Looked Away
Ethan’s white energy sphere punched through layer after layer of defenses, its power shaved down again and again. By the time it reached the final "flesh wall," it only left a wide patch of crackling electricity across the surface—never truly touching Zareth II.
Ataneya was already moving.
Five fox tails snapped open inside the palace.
They avoided her allies and surged toward the throne from multiple angles. The first tail whipped straight at Zareth II. The second skimmed low along the floor, curling for the scepter. The other three dropped in from above and both sides, sealing off every escape route.
At the same time, Andona and Seraphine raised defenses.
Light Force and Divine Power interwove around the group. A golden shield spread from the floor first, then closed upward, sealing them all inside.
They didn’t immediately unleash a full-force counterattack.
Partly because they wanted to see what other tricks Zareth II had left.
And partly because they wanted to find out—
Was this "tech" stronger... or was their unity stronger?
The overhead laser cannons fired first.
Dozens of beams crossed from the ceiling and raked down. The target wasn’t any one person—it was the entire golden shield.
The instant the lasers hit, the contact points flared into blinding white.
Then the magnetic-flow cannons joined in.
Compressed energy blasts slammed in from different angles, explosions stacking along the shield’s outer surface. The palace shook violently under the bombardment. Gold decorations tore loose in sheets, raining down.
Cracks appeared across the shield.
Andona spread ten pairs of wings, pouring golden Light Force into the damaged points from within. Seraphine thrust her hands outward, Divine Power racing along the fractures, stitching the near-broken sections back together.
The barrage kept coming.
The shield still didn’t fall.
They absorbed the first wave easily.
On the throne, Zareth II settled back down.
He leaned into it lazily. The golden scepter slipped free of his hand and floated beside him on its own. Every time the scepter shifted direction, a set of weapons in the palace adjusted their firing angles in response.
That was when Ataneya’s five tails struck.
The first tail smashed into the shield in front of the throne.
Bang!
The transparent energy layer caved inward—but didn’t break.
When the second tail curled for the scepter, a brand-new defense sprang up out of nowhere, bouncing the tail tip away. The other three tails attacked from different positions and each slammed into a corresponding shield.
Ataneya changed angles instantly.
Her tails struck the walls, the floor, pillars, and both sides of the throne.
And she quickly realized something: almost every inch of this palace had defenses.
And behind the shields were stacks of mechanical failsafes.
Even if her tails pierced the first few layers, a briefly opened wormhole would appear at the last instant—redirecting the hit somewhere else.
Wormholes as a final insurance policy.
Ataneya stared at one tail that got "sent back" near her, and her expression slowly stiffened.
Defense mattered.
But did it really need to be this ridiculous?
Once she confirmed normal attacks wouldn’t work, she pulled her five tails back.
They gathered close to her body again, power flowing from the tail tips into her chest. A blue-white mass began to form there, its density rising steadily.
Can’t smash them?
Then blow them apart.
A straight-up firepower contest.
Let’s see who outguns who.
On the other side, Kaelira’s energy sphere was already fully condensed.
Violet-red fire slammed and churned inside it like two storms colliding, raw violence squeezing the nearby space. Outside, that kind of energy would’ve shattered and collapsed dozens of miles of space around it.
But here, nothing happened.
No cracks.
No distortion.
Even the air stayed stable.
This space had clearly been reinforced—over-reinforced.
Kaelira sensed the problem, but she didn’t have time to dissect it. She raised her arm, ready to hurl the sphere at the throne.
Ethan suddenly reached out and snatched it from her hand.
Kaelira blinked, stunned.
Ethan didn’t explain.
He fed white lightning into the violet-red energy and used his fingertips to guide both flows. The violently colliding flames gradually quieted, all turbulence folding inward.
The sphere’s surface smoothed out.
The power inside became even more tightly packed.
White lightning flashed deep within the violet-red core, following fixed pathways as it pressed the fire tighter and tighter toward the center.
When Ethan finished, he didn’t throw it straight at Zareth II.
He snapped his wrist downward.
The sphere slipped around the frontal defenses and slammed into the floor in front of the throne.
Boom!
The moment it hit the metal, it detonated.
Violet-red flame speared upward. White lightning shot outward from inside. The shockwave skimmed along the floor and slammed into the layered defenses around the throne.
Transparent shields flared one after another.
Gravity forced the flames down. Other defenses bled the lightning off to the sides. By the time the blast wind made it past multiple layers, there was almost nothing left.
Zareth II still lounged on the throne.
The pressure didn’t even flutter his eyelids.
He lifted a hand, half-covering the lower part of his mask, and let out a long, lazy yawn.
"Are you going to give up?"
He lowered his hand.
"Give up now, and I’ll let you see each other a few more times."
He said it like he was commenting on the weather—using the calmest tone to deliver something that made your blood run cold.
"In a little while, you may never see each other again."
No one backed up.
They’d been through too many life-and-death fights to fold because the enemy had better toys.
Tech could block attacks, warp energy, even turn a palace into a weapon down to the last inch of space.
But could it block Ethan’s control?
Behind the mask, Zareth II’s eyes suddenly went dull.
He stopped looking at Ethan and turned his head toward the palace entrance. The golden scepter floating beside him drifted down and tapped the floor lightly.
Thud.
"Come."
His voice was still regal, still absolute.
"Send them into the sand, so they can reflect properly."
From inside the main doors, gears began to turn.
"But don’t let them die."
The doors on both sides slowly pushed open.
"If they reflect successfully, send them to the slave district."
Rhazek and Naiseman stepped through.
The two brothers straightened their backs, their steps perfectly synchronized.
With the first step, they were only a little taller than before.
The second step—shoulders nearly reached the palace pillars.
The third—arms and torsos swelled bigger, and even their weapons grew along with them.
Every step made them larger.
By the time they reached the group, their bodies had expanded so much the palace could barely contain them. Their heads and shoulders pressed into the ceiling at the same time, and only then did the growth stop.