The emotions raging in Avalon’s body were difficult to describe.
He felt an intense anger. Why had Dekai done it?
He felt an overwhelming guilt. Why hadn’t it been him?
He felt a crushing sense of helplessness. Why was he so weak? Why was he so weak that all he could do was watch this honorable man die?
Combined domain.
The concept of a combined domain was known to very few, mostly those who ranked high on the power scale. As the name implied, it was the combination of multiple domains to form one larger, stronger domain.
Many would ask: How did it work? Who would control the domain world?
Firstly, achieving a combined domain wasn’t as difficult as it seemed. The first criterion was that every participating party needed to have the same power level.
For the Ravensteins, it didn’t necessarily have to be the same element; sharing the same bloodline was enough.
To create a combined domain, one needed a focal point—a person, preferably someone incredibly strong, if not the strongest among the participants.
The other participants would unleash their domains, and this focal point would channel each release of energy, absorbing them before unleashing the combined power all at once.
For a technique of such massive power, the backlash was equally severe.
The focal point—the individual tasked with channeling and merging the domains—bore the brunt of the cost.
As the focal point absorbed the energy from each participant’s domain, their body became the conduit for an incredible amount of power. This required them not only to harness their own energy but also to stabilize and control the influx from others. The strain on their body and life force was immense.
When the combined domain was unleashed, the focal point’s energy reserves would be completely drained in the process.
This was because the human body could only channel so much raw power before it consumed the very essence that sustained them: their life energy.
By pushing the boundaries of their power, the focal point essentially sacrificed their own vitality, expending every last bit to maintain the combined domain.
In most cases, the focal point would be left utterly depleted—on the brink of collapse, if not death.
Their life energy would be siphoned off to maintain the balance and stability of the combined domain, leaving them vulnerable and often unable to recover without significant time or external intervention.
In short, the greater the combined domain’s power, the more it stripped away from the focal point, leading to a fatal or near-fatal outcome.
Avalon had wanted to be the focal point. That had been the plan. If he had done it, given that he was still in his prime, a significant amount of his life force would have been lost. But he would have still lived.
However, Dekai had interfered and taken on the role instead.
Dekai was already at the end of his life. With the strain of being the focal point added, he was now left empty.
Dekai chuckled.
“You always had a short fuse, little Avalon. It’s a miracle the boy is your son.”
Avalon didn’t respond. His fists remained clenched tightly as he stared at Dekai in silence. Sirius, Lyanna, and Nathan also watched the scene in pained silence, along with the elders and the other sanctum masters. This was not a moment they could interrupt.
“I know I’ve never said this, but it was an honor being your teacher, and my greatest joy was watching you rise to the top.” A wistful smile appeared on Dekai’s lips, but his eyes were glazed, distant.
“It’s just… such a shame I won’t be here to see him rise too,” he added, his voice trailing off.
A silence followed—too long, too heavy.
Dekai coughed weakly. “I’ve… watched over this family for decades… and I’ve given it everything I had. But… my time is up. I’m sorry…” His voice cracked, barely holding on. “I’m sorry I couldn’t do more.”
His eyes grew dim as they searched Avalon’s face one last time, pleading silently. His lips quivered as he whispered his final request:
“Please… please keep her safe.”
Dekai staggered, his legs trembling beneath him.
He tried to stand tall, to maintain the image of strength, but his body had nothing left to give. His once-powerful limbs hung limply at his sides, his fingers twitching as if grasping for something to hold onto.
The light in his eyes flickered, struggling to stay lit, and with a faint, almost imperceptible sigh, it finally faded.
Dekai collapsed to his knees, the last of his strength leaving him. His body slumped forward, falling gently to the ground, his walking stick hitting the earth with one last thud.
There was no grand explosion, no violent end—just the quiet, inevitable conclusion of a man who had given everything he had to protect his family.
The silence that followed was deafening.
At that moment, for Avalon and every single member of the Ravenstein family present, it was as though the sounds of millions of Ravenspire’s people screaming for help and the crumbling of buildings didn’t exist.
Every Ravenstein stared at Dekai’s body on the ground, a wave of intense emotions washing over them.
Sadness. Grief. Incompetence. Powerlessness.
It was too much to count. The Ravensteins were a family of madmen, people who valued strength and had little tolerance for weakness. A family of warriors. Yet, despite their madness, they each harbored a deep love for the family.
Seeing a man who had dedicated his life to the growth of the family lying on the ground dead was enough to make them all feel sorrow.
However, the emotions felt by each person were different—or almost. Out of all of them, one feeling remained constant and unchanging.
Anger.
As the reality of Dekai’s death settled into their minds, an intense, shimmering, and palpable anger reared its head.
The combined domain had managed to block a significant portion of the force from reaching them, but it hadn’t blocked everything.
Many of the Stellaris armada surrounding the Ravenstein estate had crashed due to the force of the paragons clashing, but some still remained.
Among those that survived, the Stellaris main warship still floated high in the sky. An intense orange shield surrounded the airship, along with many of the surviving ones, allowing them to withstand the aftermath.
