{Chapter: 151: Lifting The Weight of The World}
Dex furrowed his brow in confusion. Something about that look unsettled him.
What is he thinking?
A sudden instinct urged Dex to strike, to end the mystery before it unfolded. His body tensed, ready to tear into the orc's flesh and devour whatever memory he needed from the lifeless corpse.
But before he could take a step—
BOOM.
A colossal pressure erupted from all sides.
Without warning, the space around Dex began to warp and buckle, the very air turning viscous and thick like molasses. An invisible force surged from something. Dex's eyes widened.
What—?!
He didn't have time to finish the thought.
The magic in Dex's body flared up instinctively, runes on his carapace glowing across his skin as a protective field snapped into place. Mana surged like a tidal wave through his veins, reinforcing his limbs, his spine, his skull. The moment demanded absolute defense.
And still, it wasn't enough.
The crushing pressure intensified, compacting the very molecules in the air. Every inch of space around Dex twisted as if gravity had been magnified a thousandfold. The ground beneath his feet cracked like dry bone, and the very light seemed to bend inward toward the him at the center.
An overwhelming force erupted from all directions, encasing him in an invisible grip that compressed with terrifying intensity. The very air around him grew heavy, warping and trembling under the crushing pressure. Even the fabric of space itself quivered, subtly distorting as if struggling to contain the immense weight focused on a single place unleashed.
It felt as though the weight of a billions of tons had descended upon him, pressing from every angle with merciless finality.
The manifestation of this mass was immediate and brutal. His body, caught in the grip of that colossal force, plunged downward like an anchor dropped into the abyss. The earth beneath him offered no resistance. In a blink, he had been driven hundreds of meters beneath the surface, swallowed whole by the ground as if by a living beast. And yet, he did not stop—he continued to descend, deeper and deeper, with no sign of reaching the bottom.
At the point where he vanished into the earth, a radiant arc of light slowly emerged—an ethereal gate shimmering with runes and glowing edges.
Through it stepped an elderly human figure, draped in ceremonial robes, his long white hair fluttering in the lingering magical currents. In his hand he carried a resplendent staff crowned with a luminous gem, pulsing with the power of the earth. His expression was grave, but his voice carried concern as he addressed the orc warrior nearby.
"Are you harmed? Do you need to withdraw and recover?"
The orc shook his head, voice resolute. "No injuries. But the foe I faced is unlike anything I've battled before. He's categorized as a [Middle Demon] by their own hierarchy, yet his strength far surpasses many [Upper Demons]. My fiercest attack barely fazed him—it was as if I were swatting at a god. I had no choice but to activate the contingency plan."
The old man's eyes narrowed slightly, brow furrowing with thought. "A [Middle Demon] stronger than the upper echelon?" he murmured. "An exceptional prodigy of the demonic race? By our standards… he must be approaching the threshold of [Demigod]. Such a being is far beyond your current capacity to handle. Your decision was wise. If you managed to eliminate him early, it is a fortunate outcome."
The orc gave a curt nod and glanced at the elder's staff, which continued to glow with steady brilliance. "He's still struggling. Do we need to increase the suppression?"
The staff in question—known as the [Will of the Earth]—was no ordinary artifact. Forged with divine blessings from the Archbishop of the Earth God, it allowed its wielder to summon the primal weight of the world itself. Within its sphere of influence, the earth's mass could be bent and brought down upon a single foe, and spatial manipulation was immediately nullified.
The elder gave a faint smile, his tone calm. "There's no need. The [Will of the Earth] condenses the weight of all matter within a two-kilometer radius and focuses it on the target. No teleportation, no burrowing, no escape. Even a [High Demon] would struggle to survive. He may be resisting now, but soon he will be crushed—ground to dust beneath the burden of the world."
The orc exhaled, visibly more relaxed. He turned, ready to assist elsewhere on the chaotic battlefield.
But then…
"Boom… Boom… Boom…"
A muffled thundering echoed up from deep underground. It began softly, barely audible over the clamor of battle, like a distant heartbeat. But within seconds, it grew—louder, deeper, more violent—until it drowned out the cries, the steel, the blood. The very earth beneath their feet began to quake, shivering with ominous energy. Cracks split the soil, and stone fragments, corpses, and weapons tumbled from their places.
The warriors—native and demon alike—halted their struggle in unison, eyes wide as they stared at the trembling ground, uncertain of what slumbered beneath.
But the old man knew. His gaze snapped to his staff. The gem at its head was blazing—blinding, radiant, volatile. His expression twisted with disbelief, the calm of a moment ago shattered like glass.
"This… This shouldn't be possible."
He focused his magic, pouring all his strength into the staff, desperate to maintain the seal. But it was too late.
With a deafening roar, the entire landscape within a two-kilometer radius exploded upward. The earth heaved like a beast writhing in agony, rising at an impossible rate. In mere seconds, what had once been flat terrain became a towering plateau, hundreds of meters tall. Screams rang out as soldiers found themselves teetering on the edges of cliffs that hadn't existed moments ago.
The battlefield froze.
And from the depths of that upheaved earth… something was coming.
Someone that refused to be buried.
As the land continued to rise—higher and higher—surpassing even a thousand meters in elevation, the full picture began to reveal itself. What once seemed like a chaotic upheaval was, in truth, something far more deliberate. Beneath the ascending earth, a perfectly symmetrical semicircle took shape—a colossal dome of soil and stone, its arc so precise that it seemed crafted by divine design. The land had not simply risen; it had been compressed, confined, forged into a single, titanic mass, as if the very laws of nature had been shackled and sculpted by an invisible force.
And at the very heart of it all—at the foundation of this mountainous upheaval—floated a figure. Dex, bathed in the golden light of the sun piercing through clouds of debris, hovered beneath the massive dome. With one arm stretched toward the heavens and the other calmly at his side, he supported the billions of tons of compressed earth above him, his body radiating with unshakable power. His tall frame—now fully revealed at over six meters—was a living monument of chaos wrath and elemental force.
The old man, who once stood so confidently behind his arcane relic, now stared at the spectacle with eyes full of dread. His lips trembled, and his knees nearly buckled as he stammered, "Impossible…! How can he… lift that!? That's not weight—that's a mountain! He's defying the earth itself!"
In history, there had been rare cases—myths whispered in reverence—of beings who managed to escape the [Will of the Earth]. But none had ever defied it directly. Not even Demigods. Not even Higher Demons. They used tricks. Escape. Subversion. Never brute force.
But Dex… Dex had chosen war.
While the old man crumbled in disbelief, Dex's glowing eyes locked onto the canopy of earth above. He wasn't merely lifting it; he could feel a binding force—like a net of divine will—holding the soil together and pressing it down with malevolent intent. Lifting alone would never be enough. No… if he wanted freedom, he had to break it. Shatter the law behind the weight.
His gaze sharpened. His breath slowed. Power surged through every fiber of his being. Every muscle, every tendon aligned into perfect unity, forged by decades of silent endurance. He had waited long enough.
He raised his left hand to stabilize the burden above, and drew his right hand back to his waist—fingers curled, knuckles gleaming, arm coiled like a spring wound to its final limit.
Raise his left hand to the ground above his head and keep your right hand at his waist.
And then—he struck.
BOOM!
Straight punch upwards!
With a roar like a missile exploding, he struck out with all his strength with his right hand!
The sound that followed was not merely thunder—it was the roar of a world unraveling.
The enormous overwhelming force and elemental precision, shot upward like a divine missile. The impact shattered the subterranean dome, pulverizing the condensed earth and unraveling the divine force anchoring it together. Thousands of meters of compacted stone, magic-infused soil, and spatial-sealing pressure disintegrated in an instant.
The shockwave exploded outward, vaporizing the area above and throwing hundreds of warriors—native and demonic alike—into the air like dead leaves in a storm. Screams echoed, blood mist filled the sky, and chaos reigned as the battlefield turned into a chasm of terror.
As the dust began to fall like ash, Dex calmly raised his head.
Through the thinning haze, his gaze locked onto the old man—his once pristine robes torn, his expression twisted in horror. The crystal embedded in the wand, once glowing with unshakable might, had detonated in a flare of backlash. The old man's face was scorched and streaked with soot—his hope reduced to dust.
The white-haired old man whose face was as dark as earth due to the explosion of the crystal above the wand.
And Dex… smiled.
A slow, cruel, blood-freezing smile.
The next moment, the air ripped apart as Dex vanished into sonic booms. Traveling at a speed hundreds of times faster than sound, he became a blur of destruction—an afterimage of fury.
In just 0.01 seconds, his fist arrived.
It landed cleanly on the old man's chest—before the ancient mage could even blink.
The resulting impact generated intense heat and catastrophic pressure. No enchantment, no barrier, no magical item could withstand such force. They shattered like glass, failing to even slow the blow.
Under the extremely precise force, every cell in the old man's body received the strike at once with equal impact! Not a bone cracked—there were no remains. Just silence. Oblivion. The old man and everything within a several-meter radius simply ceased to exist—reduced to absolute nothingness.
A crater remained where once stood a legend.
The orc, wide-eyed, instantly activated his escape rune, vanishing into thin air with a burst of cowardice and instinctual terror.
Dex exhaled slowly, retracting his fist. His chest rose and fell with the rhythm of exertion, but his face bore only calm satisfaction.
With a subtle grin tugging at the corners of his lips, he whispered to the ruined battlefield:
"That… was a proper warm-up."
*****
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