Chaos. Absolute, merciless chaos.
This was the simplest way to describe the current scene.
Dekai, an important figure in the Ravenstein family, a figure of great influence, had died—all because of the Stellaris family.
At this point, none of the Ravensteins cared about anything else. They didn’t care about plans. They didn’t care about strategy. They didn’t care about techniques.
They cared about one thing only: ripping apart any orange-haired human they could see.
The fights were pure and total chaos. The Ravensteins no longer seemed like humans but like brutal, rabid animals.
Many ripped the Stellaris warriors apart with their bare hands. Some bit down on the necks of the Stellaris, tearing off their flesh. Others pinned them down, throwing a barrage of punches until they turned their opponents into mush.
But even amid the chaos, a few battles stood out from the rest.
One, in particular, had a clear winner.
Avalon and Helios’s battle wasn’t just a normal fight—it was cataclysmic. Explosions and dull, thunderous booms filled the air as the two fiery figures clashed in midair, each impact sending shockwaves across the battlefield.
Each clash was like a bomb going off, the ground trembling beneath their power.
But it was clear who the victor would be.
Helios looked utterly battered. His once proud and radiant figure was now beaten and bloodied, his orange hair matted with blood.
His body was covered in bruises and burns, bones cracked and barely healed, flesh torn and hastily regenerated by the energy he drew from the sun.
But even his seemingly limitless energy couldn’t keep up with the unrelenting barrage of punches from Avalon. Each strike from Avalon’s blazing fists was faster, stronger, and more devastating than the last.
Helios’s face, once smug with overconfidence, was now twisted in utter bafflement. He had been so certain—so utterly convinced—that Avalon would fall before him.
After all, he had seen the change in Avalon’s face when Dekai died. He had relished it. But this? This wasn’t supposed to happen.
Helios had first seen Avalon years ago in the academy.
Helios had been two years ahead, already an established talent, but Avalon… Avalon had been the talk of the academy even as a first-year. He had outperformed those far above him in skill and strength, easily rising through the ranks.
And Helios? He had never been able to stand it.
That calm, indifferent look on Avalon’s face, as if nothing in the world could touch him—it had created a deep hatred in Helios, a burning desire to prove that Avalon was nothing but talk.
But throughout their time in the academy, and even in the military, Helios had never gotten the chance to face Avalon. Until now. And yet, the fight was nothing like he had imagined in his head millions of times.
Avalon’s fists moved with unreal speed, each blow landing like a hammer. A radiant pair of gauntlets had appeared on his arms, glowing with searing flames that made each punch even more devastating.
Helios roared in pain as Avalon’s fists broke through his defenses, the sheer force of the strikes turning bones to dust, muscles shredded under the relentless onslaught.
Helios’s regeneration could barely keep up—each wound healed only for another to take its place in the next instant.
Helios swung his hammers wildly, but Avalon was relentless. He dodged and weaved, his movements a blur, before landing another series of punches—this time, so hard that Helios’s ribs cracked and splintered, his organs taking the brunt of the force.
Helios screamed, his body barely holding together.
“Why!?” Helios shouted in frustration and disbelief, his voice hoarse. “Why can’t I defeat you!?”
Avalon said nothing. His eyes were cold, focused.
He wasn’t fighting to prove anything. He wasn’t fighting for glory. He wasn’t even fighting to win. He was fighting for one thing: revenge.
Flames engulfed his arms, intensifying the power behind his strikes. He threw a final, devastating punch, his fist landing squarely on Helios’s chest.
The force was so immense that Helios’s entire body seemed to implode, bones shattering as he was sent hurtling backward, crashing through the remains of his warship.
The warship, already crumbling from their battle, finally gave way under the destruction, collapsing in on itself in a massive explosion.
But not a second passed before Helios muttered under his breath, “Red Sun.”
Around them, the chaos continued. Sirius moved like the wind, his enemies unable to even approach as they were sliced apart by razor-sharp gusts. He was currently facing one of the Stellaris family elders, just like Lyanna, Nathan, and the Ravenstein elders.
However, this was unlike the battle with the Vermore family. The obvious difference between tier one and tier two families was their ability to produce a paragon. But as the events unfolded, it became clear that this wasn’t the only distinction.
The strength of the tier one bloodlines, along with their talents, was far greater and more powerful than those of tier twos. It had taken only three grandmasters of the Ravenstein family, all of high talent, to defeat hundreds of tier two grandmasters.
Such a feat would have been impossible if their opponents had been other tier one grandmasters.
The difference was just that great.
This was why it wasn’t surprising that the battle between the Ravensteins and the Stellaris was filled with powerful exchanges.
In a battle between tier ones, the grandmasters were the key players.
All around, the Ravenstein family tore through the Stellaris forces like a wave of fury.
Elements clashed in brutal, bloody chaos. Fire, ice, earth, and air—all converging on the Stellaris forces, whose once unshakable formation had been reduced to a broken mess.
However, due to the effects of the sun, the Stellaris warriors’ recovery rate was off the charts. Every injury they sustained was healed rapidly, and their stamina seemed limitless.
The initial momentum of the Ravensteins began to wane as more and more Stellaris members recovered. It didn’t help that the Ravensteins were outnumbered from the start.
This was all because of one thing: the sun.
However, everything soon changed when a dark voice suddenly resounded across the battlefield.
“Eclipse.”
Every single person turned toward the sky to see a potbellied man floating high above.
With a cold gaze, Ulithi, the Darkness Sanctum master, raised his arm, and then the sky darkened.
