Chapter 1125: Breaking off Chains Kahn, Omega and Vildred quietly saw the ensuing battle between two 5th-stage saints. Both of these figures were familiar to him. Because on one end, was the renowed and strongest swordsman of the Rakos Empire who seemed to have become a 5th-stage saint in just 5 years after Kahn left. On the other end... was a particular woman, a Sorceress by class, who had the deepest and most meaningful connection to him in this life. The battlefield was a wasteland of destruction as the Sorceress faced off against Stronoff, a master swordsman whose skill had earned him the title of the best in the Rakos Empire for decades, found himself overwhelmed in a fight he never imagined possible. Because had summoned a being in front of him, something that shook his body to the core by sheer surprise. "How come you’re a 5th stage saint, and not a 2nd-stage saint?" asked Stronoff, his arms bleeding. High above him, towering at an unbelievable 5 kilometers, stood Sorceress’s summoned deity, Hachiman, the Deity of Archery and Weapons. Clad in an ethereal, radiant suit of Samurai armor that shimmered with divine energy, Hachiman was a behemoth. The sheer presence of the deity caused the ground to quake and the air to grow thick with overwhelming pressure. Mountains collapsed, rivers dried up, and the ruins of the dilapidated city crumbled simply from the weight of Hachiman’s aura. Hachiman’s bow, nearly 3 kilometers tall itself, was strung with golden energy. Arrows, each 2 kilometers long and 200 meters wide, radiated power as they materialized. Each release was an apocalyptic force... one arrow shattered the sky with a deafening roar and obliterated everything in a 3-kilometer radius upon impact. Even the shockwaves from the arrows’ release sent fissures tearing through the earth. Stronoff charged forward, his blade gleaming with potent energy. He unleashed a flurry of strikes, each capable of cutting mountains in half, but they barely scratched the surface of Hachiman’s impenetrable armor. Stronoff’s movements were precise, calculated, and deadly... but utterly futile. "How is this possible?" he exclaimed, panting as his body struggled against the oppressive force emanating from the deity. "I’m using some of my best skills that have made me unrivaled in the Rakos Empire as the best swordsman for decades now. Yet I can’t even make a scratch?" The colossal deity gazed down at the struggling swordsman. His voice echoed like thunder across the battlefield, calm but filled with overwhelming authority. "The problem doesn’t lie with you, swordsman. My contractor is simply too powerful and able to bring forth 50% of my strength when I am summoned. And that 50% is more than enough to kill a 7th-stage saint, despite the restraints of time." Hachiman moved, unsheathing a katana that matched his own godly proportions. One swing of the blade was enough to raze entire sections of the ruins to smithereens, the sheer wind pressure reducing what remained to dust. Stronoff leaped back, narrowly avoiding instant death, but the gap in power was undeniable. In the background, Sorceress stood within a dark energy barrier, her eyes cold and resolute. Her hands glowed with the ethereal light of her contract, maintaining her connection to Hachiman. She was utterly composed, her gaze fixed on her opponent. "Do you want me to play with him some more?" asked the deity, his tone almost casual, as if the battle wasn’t worth his full attention. "No," replied the sorceress, her voice emotionless but firm. "I never wanted to see him suffer for long. He just has to die. That’s all." The ruins were eerily quiet, save for the crackle of residual energy lingering in the air. Stronoff, battered and cornered, knelt with his giant sword plunged into the ground for support. Across from him stood Sorceress, her black battlemage attire glowing faintly with runic energy as she maintained her connection to the towering deity, Hachiman, who loomed above them like an unshakable mountain. "End him quickly," Sorceress ordered, her tone cold and unfeeling, as if Stronoff’s life held no more value than a flickering candle. Desperate, Stronoff raised his voice, his eyes wide with a mix of fear and defiance. "Listen... even if you kill me, it won’t quell your anger. I’m more useful to you alive than dead." "And why should I spare you?" Sorceress asked, her voice sharp and cutting as her gaze bore into him. "Because we share blood?" "Yes!" he snapped, seizing on the sliver of hope. "We’re family in the end. Whatever problems we have, they can be solved by talking." Sorceress’s lips twisted into a bitter smile, but there was no humor in it. "Funny... the bond of blood didn’t seem so important to you all those years ago when I lost my powers. Had I not regained them... I’d be nothing but some degenerate noble bastard’s plaything by now. And you, my family, wouldn’t have even cared to check what kind of pain and suffering I was living through." Her voice carried an edge of venom, each word striking like a dagger. "The bond of blood is no thicker than water, it seems." Stronoff’s face twisted in anger and desperation. "If that’s so, then why me in particular? All the Elders, even your parents, had a part to play in what happened. I just took the opportunity like anyone else would have in my position!" He stood shakily, pointing his sword at her. "What kind of father wouldn’t want his daughter to prosper and rise above?" "That’s funny..." Sorceress replied, her voice icy and controlled. "Given how you didn’t even console your daughter on the day she was beaten to a pulp during that match all those years ago by him." Her gaze darkened, her words laced with disdain. "And from what I’ve heard... you even tried to make him your son-in-law before the competition even began. You were already trading your daughter to advance your own ambitions." Her words hit Stronoff like a physical blow, but he still tried to retort. Before he could, Sorceress raised a hand, silencing him with a glare. "Do not assume I’m a fool who’d believe the lies of a man like you," she continued, her voice unwavering. "You have proven time and time again that you’d sell your own blood if it meant another step toward power. And now you stand here, begging for your life, claiming family matters to you?" Stronoff’s grip tightened around his massive sword as he prepared to unleash a powerful move. His face, twisted with a mix of desperation and resolve, betrayed the weight of his next words. "Then make me a promise. If I die here... you will leave her alone. She had nothing to do with your fall within the clan. She was a pawn, just like you were." Sorceress’s raven-black hair swayed with the faint energy rippling from her summoned deity, Hachiman, who stood silently in the backdrop like an unmoving sentinel of destruction. Her gaze was sharp and unrelenting as she retorted... "And why would I do that? Her betrayal hurt more than yours. Although we are cousins, she was like a sister to me. Yet in the past five years... she still hasn’t apologized. Not once." Her voice was laced with venom, her words echoing with the pain of unresolved wounds. "Even now, the whole clan thinks I’m just a 2nd-stage saint, just like Veronica. If she felt guilty, she wouldn’t be trying so hard to surpass me and become the next matriarch." Stronoff scoffed, shaking his head as he tried to reason with her. "So that’s what this is about? You want to become the leader of our clan?" Sorceress’s eyes narrowed. "You think this is just about power? About titles? You don’t understand a thing, Stronoff." Undeterred, Stronoff pressed on, his tone growing sharper. "Then you’re truly foolish. Even if you became a 5th-stage saint, you should’ve waited a few more decades. Your father himself is on the verge of becoming a 7th-stage saint. Killing me now would only put the entire clan on alert. They’d never let you be unmarried for the next century. Hell, the man they’d marry you to, or even your children; would have a better chance of claiming the clan leadership than you ever would." He scoffed again, his laughter bitter and mocking. "There’s no way killing me, Veronica, or even the Elders who proposed that exchange will help you sit in that position." Sorceress’s lips curled into a dark, vengeful smile, her aura flaring as her connection with Hachiman intensified. The towering deity’s presence became almost suffocating, the ground trembling beneath the weight of its power. "There is one way, though..." she said, her tone chillingly calm yet dripping with malice. Stronoff’s brow furrowed in confusion, but Sorceress continued before he could respond. "If I kill him as well and then reveal my true strength... no one in the clan would dare deny me my claim." Stronoff’s eyes widened in utter disbelief, his grip tightening on his sword as he spat... "Are you out of your mind?! You’d kill your own father?!" Sorceress’s expression remained cold and unwavering, her tone laced with icy disdain as she retorted... "Why? Are only sons allowed to kill their fathers to claim their throne? Or are you suggesting patricide is a privilege reserved for men?" Her words stung like a whip, and she continued, stepping forward with calculated purpose. "Besides... who said I care about the acknowledgment of the Elder Council? Their time is long over. I’m killing them as well." Stronoff’s face twisted in horror, his mouth moving as if to protest, but no words came out. Sorceress’s dark aura flared, her voice cutting through the tension like a blade. "And honestly? I don’t even care if the entire clan falls to ruins." she spoke with a vengeful tone. "I, Kassandra Mikealson... shall show no mercy."