Taryn sat still, expression unreadable beneath his mask.
Then, something shifted.
A pressure began pressing against the city. Not on the skin—on the soul. The sky dimmed unnaturally. Birds vanished. The air grew heavy.
Taryn’s spine tingled.
He reached into his robe and activated the twin cosmic communicator—a paired device he'd left with Eunuch.
“Eunuch.”
“Master?”
“Take Xara and leave the city. Now. As far and as fast as you can.”
A pause.
Then a softer voice in the background. > “Taryn? Where are you?”
His voice softened only slightly. > “I’m safe. Trust me. Just go.”
“Ty—!”
“Eunuch. The order.”
“Yes, master.”
Taryn ended the link.
He stepped out of his booth, keeping his pace measured. The sky above Lemon City continued to twist. Space itself rippled unnaturally.
Taryn turned his gaze toward the Sun King’s envoy.
“Envoy,” he called. “Would you join me in my booth? Bring your purchases. I’m open to a trade.”
The envoy blinked in surprise. “To reclaim the Saint Mother?”
He smiled politely and nodded. “It would be an honor.”
“Also,” Taryn added, “bring the others you bought. I’d like a full review of what you're carrying.”
The envoy raised an eyebrow, then smiled. “Of course.”
He returned to his booth and gathered his goods—among them several bound cultivators and youths: the captured remnants of the Merlin Sect.
Two guards escorted the items, keeping careful watch.
The envoy approached.
The weight on the world increased again. Taryn’s skin tingled.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
You don’t have much time, he thought. Hurry up.
“Please,” he called, “you’re moving too slowly. I may change my mind.”
The envoy chuckled. “Ah, how refreshingly honest.”
He stepped into Taryn’s booth—just in time.
His two escorts, however, were a step behind.
And they never made it in.
The sky cracked. Gravity collapsed.
It wasn’t a blast—it was annihilation.
Lemon City ceased to exist.
Stone liquefied. Air turned to ash. The ground folded into molten slag. Buildings, streets, people—gone.
The only thing that remained was Taryn’s booth, suspended in a flickering gravitational field designed by Imp.
Everyone inside was spared.
Everyone else... erased.
The envoy stood frozen. Sweat ran down his face. His knees gave out as he stared at the lake of lava that now spanned miles.
“What… what just happened?”
Taryn’s voice was even. “I saved your life.”
“How? Why?”
The man couldn’t stop trembling. His captives—children, elders, tortured Merlin survivors—were stunned into silence.
“My grandfather is a very private man,” Taryn said. “He dislikes loud cities. But he’s fond of the Sun King. That’s why you’re still breathing.”
The envoy bobbed his head like a puppet.
“Thank you. Truly.”
And then he ran—across the lava—channeling his cosmic energy just to survive, fleeing like a man chased by fate.
Taryn said nothing. His shoulders remained square, his expression calm.
“Imp…”
A giggle answered in his mind.
“You see? It worked.”
“You annihilated a city.”
“With surgical precision. And look—you even got to save your father.”
“You knew?”
“I guessed.”
Taryn’s gaze didn’t move.
“You’re insane.”
“But efficient.”
He tapped his boot against the floor, and the protective spell responded.
The booth lifted into the air, its trajectory shifting under his guidance. Taryn directed its flight manually, weaving it forward above the molten lake.
Imp’s gravitational spell had not only nullified the collapse—it now served as their only method of escape.
It took twenty minutes to reach the far ridge.
When the booth finally touched solid earth, Taryn collapsed to one knee. His cosmic reserves were nearly drained.
That mischievous devil… she timed it perfectly.
On the ridge, stunned survivors watched the firestorm behind them.
Taryn looked over the ones he had pulled into his booth—the captured remnants of the Merlin Sect.
Their skin was blistered, but they were alive.
Still masked, Taryn stepped toward the weakest of them—a bloodied, hollow-eyed man who still clutched a rusted chain around one wrist.
Caelen.
His father.
Taryn said nothing. He reached into his dimensional space and retrieved the Merlin Sect elder’s sword. He handed it over without ceremony.
“This belongs to your people.”
Caelen’s fingers closed around the hilt, barely able to lift it.
Taryn retrieved a vial from his sleeve—one of Sheba’s rarest healing elixirs—and passed it silently.
“Take a sip. Then pass it around.”
It drained him. He could feel the blood pooling in his throat from using even that much power. But he didn’t stop.
A child helped Caelen take the first drink.
In moments, his eye healed. His cultivation reawakened. Only the severed arm remained missing.
The others drank as well. Each gasp of returned energy was like music in a graveyard.
Caelen’s grip steadied. He looked at the sword with new eyes.
“With these few,” he said, “the Merlin Sect will rise again.”
They all bowed deeply.
“Thank you, benefactor.”
Taryn did not reply.
He only watched as they turned and walked into the trees—silent as smoke.
He stood alone at the rim of the melted city. Watching.
Because I saved him... I’ve left a loose end.
He didn’t feel guilt.
He didn’t feel hope.
Only calculation.
Why did I bother?
Then he whispered, to no one in particular:
“I suppose blood is not only thicker than water… it’s thicker than ice.”