Scattered around the current Head of the Thistles and General Pennel was not just destruction, but the youths and warriors they had brought with them.
It was clear at a glance, though, that General Pennel was severely outnumbered and overwheld.
The Thistles were truly prepared, and while General Pennel tried to make a show of taking children along with him to make it seem like his target wasn't a big deal, it was clear that the Thistles weren't fooled. Or more accurately… they never cared what actions the General took in the first place.
No matter what, they had plans on being here today.
If not for the genius of the remaining mbers of General Pennel's party, they would have long been wiped out.
But the Thistles had geniuses themselves. Not just Dean Thistle's last remaining son, but also that of his cousins as well.
Sigil Thistle.
Lani Thistle.
Surgen Thistle.
Each one was around 17 to 18 years old.
Each one stood well into the depths of the Silver Resonance.
And each one seed more than capable of holding their own against the best of the Imperial Capital's geniuses, displaying strength that reports were certain they couldn't have possibly had.
Dean Thistle and General Pennel separated violently. Neither of them had expected this sort of change.
Whipping vines danced around the forr as he turned a deep gaze toward the General.
"If you leave now, you just might be able to keep your life."
"You're speaking quite confidently right now, but I know this Tribulation isn't in your plans. The Domain board is being reset right now."
Dean Thistle's eyes narrowed. "You overestimate yourself."
"No. I think that you're actually the one overestimating yourself."
"What could a man without lineage understand about the ambitions of a lion? You've grown too used to bowing your head."
"Calling yourself a lion while keeping a little girl hostage is quite the move. Are you really so afraid of a little boy?"
A flash of rage sparked in Dean Thistle's eyes, but it was controlled, cool, and mighty.
Near the back of the group of Thistles, a young woman stood, her face pale with nervousness. She looked completely out of place on the battlefield. She didn't hold a weapon, nor was she wearing any armor. Most even seed to ignore her as though she wasn't a person to be heavily protected or targeted either.
She just stood there, ignored, wringing her hands and scattering darting glances from side to side. The only one who seed to give her any attention at all was Sigil, who would sweep his Third Eye over her from ti to ti. But even he was too locked into battle to give her more than a sliver of his attention.
Malaya Vermouth.
Not long ago, Theron had asked for Malaya to be escorted to the capital. It was a favor that General Pennel would have done for him.
But Theron could have never guessed that such a large operation was lingering in the imdiate future. Even if he had known, he wouldn't have expected that he had beco such a thorn at the side of the Thistles that they would go as far as alienating yet another one of their allies for the sake of getting at him.
Even though she wasn't chained or restrained in any way, it was clear as day what she was here as.
A hostage.
There was another thing that Theron could have never guessed, though…
This wasn't Dean Thistle's idea at all. For all his faults, the man was nothing if not obnoxiously prideful. He would never do sothing like this.
This order ca from above. From the only man capable of ordering the Dean to do anything.
"For those words, I swear to you that I'll take your head personally one day." Dean Thistle turned back. "Take her. We move now. Don't enter the range of the Tribulation or it will begin attacking you too."
There was no need to discuss things. There was no way they could ignore these changes just for the sake of fighting.
Just like General Pennel had said, this Tribulation was outside of their expectations. They couldn't just wait it out and hope the situation stayed the sa.
**
Weakness.
Theron's definition of it had always been complicated. He wasn't the typical young man who thought he could only asure it with his fist. For as long as he could rember, he was never very interested in cultivation. He found his strength in books, in knowledge.
But there was an odd defiance in him right now, one rooted in sothing that didn't seem to entirely co from himself, almost as though sothing else was pushing him forward.
As he shifted through the tunnels, his steps agile as everything felt as though it was crumbling around him, he found himself reaching a state of more and more focus.
The loud sounds faded away, the frostiness of his gaze beginning to stream out with larger and larger streams of icy blue.
Chi.
His blade flashed.
The head of a Quasi Gold Sangun Clan mber fell before he could even understand what was happening. Maybe even he didn't realize just how much the Tribulation had paralyzed his Mana circulation.
By comparison, it seed to be spurring Theron's on. It was like his body was being pumped with an endless amount of adrenaline, his emotions spiraling into a concentrated pulse of mighty energy.
Chi.
Another head fell.
He moved through the tunnels, killing one after another.
His research on Tribulations told him that their strength multiplied with the number of people trapped within it. If he wanted the best chance to survive, more of these people had to die.
Their blood had to flow in rivers before he was satisfied.
Chi.
Theron's steps ca to a stop at the very edge of another opening. His hair blew to the side as the winds grew harsher.
And then ca the misting rain, sparse and almost like spurts of a God's piss coming from above. There just seed to be sothing particularly disrespectful about it.
Theron tapped a foot, forming a line of blue as he descended from above.
His target?
Captain Halder.
As his hair stread out to his back, this impossibility of what he was doing never crossed his mind.
There was only one path ahead, so he would take it.
No matter what, he would survive.
He landed on the ground to the wide eyes of the distracted Captain.
"You…"
Theron attacked.
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