The storm shifted, and the moment it did, Emery felt his stomach sink as he recognized exactly what was happening.
The tribulation was adapting.
The violet lightning swirling above gradually condensed, each violent current growing denser and sharper until the bolts themselves took on the gleam of forged steel. Threads of metallic radiance intertwined throughout the clouds, and before long the entire storm seemed to have transformed into a sea of pure Metal Law.
"A Metal Tribulation..." one of the Karat elders muttered hoarsely.
Of course it was.
The heavens never attacked blindly. They struck directly at the cultivator’s greatest foundation, turning their strongest prehension into the source of their greatest trial. Rosin Karat had cultivated Metal Law for thousands of years until it became inseparable from his very existence, and now the heavenly tribulation had responded in kind, forging lightning designed specifically to overwhelm everything he understood.
The fifth set descended beneath a pressure noticeably greater than anything that had e before.
The first bolt crashed from the heavens with a deafening roar, and for the first time since the tribulation had begun, the patriarch’s body visibly trembled beneath the impact. His Golden Body shone brilliantly as he endured the violent surge of Metal Law trying to force its way through his own prehension, while both feet sank several inches into the arena floor under the tremendous force.
Knowing brute strength alone would no longer suffice, Rosin immediately unleashed another defensive technique. Towering walls of condensed golden law erupted around him one after another, forming an immense metallic fortress whose countless layers overlapped into a seemingly impregnable citadel.
The second bolt struck the fortress head-on.
Then came the third.
Each impact shook the enormous construct, sending ripples through every wall as cracks slowly spread across its surface.
When the fourth bolt descended, the entire fortress finally reached its limit.
With an explosion that echoed throughout the mountain range, the defensive structure collapsed into countless fragments of fading golden light, leaving Rosin to receive the remaining force with nothing but his own body.
Without the slightest hesitation, he produced another treasure.
A high-grade defensive talisman ignited in a burst of dazzling light, its protective barrier intercepting the fifth bolt before straining heavily beneath the sixth.
Standing beside Emery, Veyarel’s expression gradually darkened.
His fists tightened unconsciously.
"What happened?" Emery asked quietly.
Veyarel kept his eyes fixed upon the battlefield.
"It’s stronger than we expected." Veyarel’s voice was low. "That talisman should have been saved for the ninth. He’s spending everything too early."
The seventh bolt descended, and the talisman shattered.
But it had done its work — it bought Rosin the moment he needed to channel another defensive spell, holding him through the eighth. Then the ninth arrived, that towering pillar of metal fury, and to meet it the patriarch unleashed his cosmic projection once more. A golden giant rose above him, wreathed in his overwhelming aura, and hammered the descending bolt into pieces.
The fifth set ended.
The collision swallowed the entire arena in white fire.
When the smoke finally dissipated, the Supreme Lord of the Karat faction was on one knee.
Blood ran freely from his mouth, dripping onto the runes beneath him.
Around the arena, the silence was absolute.
At the four corners, the guardians rose.
The sixth set was theirs.
Khalid took the first bolt, his runed spear sweeping up to meet it — and this time the impact tore through his defense entirely, his armor cracking, blood spraying from between clenched teeth as he was driven to his knees.
Boyd took the second, the giant planting his feet and swinging his massive weapon into the descending lightning. He held it, barely, though the strike drove him waist-deep into the shattered arena floor.
Schenable met the third with the grim efficiency of a lifetime soldier, his silver hair whipping in the storm as his technique flared and buckled.
Xavier took the fourth — Rosin’s son, jaw set, absorbing a blow that flung him back across the arena in a spray of golden sparks.
Each of them held. Each of them bled.
And it grew only harder from there.
By the time the next four bolts had fallen, every artifact the guardians carried had been spent — wards shattered, talismans consumed, protective treasures burned down to nothing. When the ninth came, all four met it together, and they stopped it only barely, the four of them collapsing across the arena floor in a smoking, broken tangle.
Healers rushed in from the perimeter, dragging the wounded guardians clear, pressing pills between their lips and channeling restorative energy into their ruined bodies.
The seventh set began to gather.
And Emery could not help the fear that crept up his spine.
The Grand Tribulation had bee a force like a dozen mountains falling upon the arena, each set heavier than the last, and there were still three to e.
The truth was, they had expected this.
This was Rosin Karat’s third Grand Tribulation.
The heavens measured a Supreme once every thousand years, and those measurings came in a fixed cycle — two minor calamities, and then a major one. Three trials across three full millennia.
Rosin had already weathered the two minor calamities of this cycle. He had passed them, as he had passed every trial across six thousand years in the Supreme realm.
This was the third.
The major calamity was not simply a stronger version of what had e before. It was the trial the entire cycle had been building toward — the one that arrived only once every three thousand years, carrying the accumulated weight of everything the heavens had been withholding. Only through it could a Supreme refine their origin and shatter the ceiling above them.
And it was the wall where most of them ended.
Across the long history of the Magus Alliance, more Supremes had died beneath a major calamity than in all the wars of the quadrant bined. For countless Supremes, the major calamity was the end of the line.
Rosin Karat understood that better than anyone.
Yet he had chosen to wager everything.
For the seventh set, he held nothing back.
Three Tier 7 artifacts rose into the air around him, orbiting his body like protective stars while his Golden Body erupted with its brightest radiance yet. The bined treasures formed layer upon layer of shimmering defensive barriers, each infused with a different law, while the patriarch himself met the descending lightning with fists wrapped in overwhelming metal law.
Bolt after bolt crashed into the layered defenses.
Each impact sent violent ripples through the protective halo as one artifact after another flared brilliantly, sacrificing its stored power to lessen the burden on its exhausted master.
Rosin endured every strike.
But nothing endured forever.
When the ninth and final bolt of the seventh set finally dispersed, the three artifacts had reached their limits.
The first, a ring woven from layered spatial wards, exploded into countless fragments of light.
The second, a breastplate forged from ancient black-gold alloy, cracked down its center before disintegrating into metallic dust.
The third—a pendant pulsing with condensed life force—glowed desperately for one final heartbeat before its light simply vanished.
Emery watched a fortune in Tier 7 treasures disappear within minutes.
Only two sets remained.
The eighth set belonged once again to the guardians, buying the Supreme what little time remained for him to recover and prepare for the final confrontation.
But the guardians were no longer whole.
The first bolt shattered what remained of Khalid’s armor, leaving the Eastern Guardian drenched in blood as he barely managed to remain standing.
Boyd accepted the second, but the impact proved even more devastating. The towering warrior coughed out a torrent of blood, and Emery’s divine sense immediately detected something tearing deep inside his body. One of his internal meridians had ruptured, leaving his aura visibly unstable.
Schenable and Xavier, both standing at the third layer of the Three Cosmos realm, weathered their respective bolts somewhat better, yet even they emerged with scorched robes and trembling hands.
When the fifth bolt descended, Khalid stepped forward once more.
This time, however, his four trusted lieutenants rushed in beside him without hesitation.
They had served under him for decades.
They intended to share his burden.
The result was horrifying.
The heavenly lightning consumed the formation almost instantly. All four lieutenants were thrown violently across the arena, their bodies broken and bleeding.
One of them never landed.
His body was simply erased beneath the violet lightning, reduced to drifting fragments before he could utter a single cry.
A heavy silence settled over the battlefield.
The second group of lieutenants—those serving under Boyd—watched the scene unfold with pale faces.
For the first time, genuine fear entered their eyes.
They understood exactly what awaited them.
And they knew...
...they could not survive it.
As if the situation were not already dire enough, Boyd staggered backward, another mouthful of blood spilling onto the arena floor before his enormous body swayed unsteadily.
His damaged meridians could no longer circulate cosmic energy.
The Western Guardian was finished.
A replacement was needed.
Izzak moved without hesitation, already stepping forward to fill the empty position.
Before he could take another step, Veyarel caught his arm.
"Not you," the elder said firmly. "You can’t."
His gaze shifted across the arena.
It settled on Emery.
Without the slightest hesitation, Emery stepped forward.
Together with Veyarel and Boyd’s four remaining lieutenants, he walked toward the vacant Western corner of the arena, taking his place beneath the churning violet heavens...
...ready to face the wrath of the Grand Tribulation itself.
x x x
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