Chương 129: Chapter 128

Golden veins streak across Iskara's arms, weaving through the bright red channels already burning under her skin. They cross in patterns that pulse with light, glowing hotter with every word of her chant. The glow spreads through her chest and legs until her whole body shines with crisscrossed lines of fire and gold. Her aura spikes. The pressure in the wetlands multiplies, and the air feels like it is being crushed out of my lungs. She jumps in strength, rising straight into Intermediate Diamond Rank.

Azrakel's snarl deepens.

"You dare raise yourself to my level?" Orrivane takes a step back, his eyes narrowing at the heat rolling off her. Even the darkness he commands shivers at the weight of her presence. Iskara summons a potion from her Interspatial Ring and downs it without hesitation. Now her aura climbs further until it matches Azrakel's. Her aura rises higher with every breath. The potion settles in her body and fuses with the chants, and now her veins burn like rivers of molten gold.

The pressure spreads outward until even the wetlands begin to bend. The air folds against her, and the ponds boil with violent steam. Azrakel snarls and drives his heel into the ground, cracking the stone beneath his feet. He holds his hands apart, and spheres of plasma appear between his palms. The heat they release is enough to scorch the moss and trees around him, yet the light of his sister's veins overshadows them.

"You were always the weaker one," he says, his voice trembling with restrained fury.

"And now you stand against me because of stolen veins? You shame our line." Iskara finishes the chant and spreads her arms wide. Her aura does not stop growing. The potion multiplies the strength of her body, and every buff she ever cast on herself answers the call of Lucifer's Veins. They stack one over another until her outline blazes like a second sun.

"That should have been my power," Azrakel says, trembling. When Iskara opens her eyes again, they're made of pure gold; it's impossible to distinguish pupil from iris. It's all gold. Azrakel staggers back a step when he sees her eyes. His aura flickers, and the spheres of plasma tremble between his palms. The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. My people call that the Golden Sight. It's the mark of Lucifer's Veins fully awakened.

She's run out of buffs she can use on herself. If I had to guess, her Squires were probably trained to enhance her power even further. It takes as little as one Skill each to buff her further for her to possibly cross into True Diamond. I've got an idea. I turn to Iskara, whose body is now brimming with power, and lean close to her ear, whispering something to her.

"I can do that," she replies, looking at me curiously.

"Can you—" I nod, and she quickly shuts up.

"Orrivane, simply provide support to her," I say, taking a step back and letting the two Champions step forward. Azrakel snaps his hand and summons his weapon. A massive warhammer forms, its head glowing white‑hot with plasma. Sparks spill from it as though the weapon itself is ready to explode. He swings it once, and the air splits with a thunderous crack. Iskara steps forward to meet him. She clenches her fists, and the golden light around her veins surges. Her body moves with speed that should not be possible.

She charges straight at him, and their clash sends a shockwave across the wetlands. The hammer comes down, and the ground shatters where it lands. Stone and steam burst upward. Iskara blocks with her arms crossed, and the gold veins burn brighter to match the blow. The impact still drives her back, but she holds. She counters with a straight punch. Her fist glows like molten iron and slams against the side of the warhammer.

The weapon rings like struck metal, and the plasma covering it splashes into the air in fiery arcs. Azrakel roars and swings again. The wetlands flood with heat as craters open in the ground. Iskara keeps pace. Her fists slam against the hammer again and again. Every clash lights the world in gold and red. Her body blurs forward, her aura bursting in waves that match his. One strike sends her flying back, but she twists in the air and lands on her feet.

Cracks spread out beneath her boots, yet she pushes off and launches forward again. They meet in the center, hammer against fist, and the explosion blinds me for a moment. Steam and fire wash over everything. The air burns in my lungs as I force myself to keep watching. Azrakel slams the hammer into the ground. The plasma erupts in a wave that races toward her. She meets it head‑on, punching through the fire until the wave breaks apart. Gold light scatters the flames, and she steps out of the smoke untouched.

She charges, her golden veins blazing. Her fists strike like cannons. She hammers him with a flurry of blows, each one strong enough to shatter stone. He staggers under the storm, yet his warhammer swings wide and explodes with plasma that knocks her back again. The battlefield is unrecognizable now. The ponds boil into clouds, the stone floor breaks into jagged fragments, and the air trembles under the weight of their power. Neither side falters. Azrakel grips his warhammer tighter, his face twisted in fury.

Iskara straightens with fire in her eyes of gold. Both of them glow like blazing stars, and I can feel the clash tearing the wetlands apart.