Devil Gambit-Chapter 67 : Sever the Heart of the World

"Guys. I just got word—Kaela’s ready," Saelari’s voice echoed directly into Dirga and Theryn’s minds, carried through a whispering rune.

Dirga gritted his teeth, parrying another furious blow from the Butcher’s halberd. Sparks flew. The air around him rippled from the force.

"How ready?" he asked, twisting aside before the halberd swept the ground where he’d just stood.

"We need to bring the Butcher within twenty meters of her!" Saelari said, runes flaring at her fingertips as she cast a slowing glyph beneath the Butcher’s feet.

"Twenty meters?" Theryn responded, shadow tendrils writhing around her like living ropes. "Alright. I’ll cover Dirga’s flanks. You focus on control."

The battlefield trembled with the Butcher’s roars, his blood-soaked body churning with rage.

Dirga surged forward, blades flashing—six swords now danced around him: two gripped in his hands, four flying midair under telekinetic control, probing for openings. frёewebnoѵel.ƈo๓

"Let’s pull him in," Dirga growled. "Make it look like we’re on the run."

The plan unfolded in silent coordination.

Dirga led the charge—his movements fluid, baiting the Butcher deeper into the corridor. Theryn circled the edges of the fight, lashing out with shadows to slow the beast’s swings and distort his timing. Saelari rained runes from a distance—supportive barriers, weakening glyphs, flashes of disruption.

Twenty meters.

Just a little more.

The Butcher snarled, now fully aware of their strange pattern of movement.

"You gnats are planning something!" he bellowed. "You think you can outlast ME?! I am the SLAUGHTER incarnate!"

His voice rippled like thunder.

Dirga could feel it—the distance closing. They were near Kaela now. Very near.

The Butcher stepped past the invisible line.

He was in range.

"Hold him there," Saelari instructed calmly, voice resonating in Dirga and Theryn’s minds.

Kaela’s voice came through next—strained, soft, trembling.

"Please... just hold him for me a little longer..."

...

The corridor behind them had transformed.

The air around Kaela shimmered like molten glass. Zarion crackled and surged toward her like a storm being siphoned into a single point. Her hair floated weightlessly. Her golden irises blazed with divine light, pupils glowing with runic patterns. Blood ran from her eyes, but she didn’t stop.

Each word she chanted tore through the fabric of the air.

Her entire body was a conduit—carving a divine circuit into the world itself.

...

"KAELA!" Dirga roared. "NOW?!"

"Not yet!" she cried back, voice echoing unnaturally.

The Butcher snarled as he felt it too—the shift in the air, the raw Zarion pulling against his blood.

"No..." he hissed, his gut-mouth frothing. "This power... it’s wrong."

He slammed his halberd into the ground.

"CONCEPT: BLOOD WORLD!"

The air convulsed.

The halberd erupted in crimson energy as the mouth on his gut stretched open—vomiting a flood of boiling blood that exploded outward like a tsunami. The entire room trembled. Walls cracked. The floor dissolved beneath tides of blood.

In seconds, the arena was submerged in an ocean of living red.

Veins floated through the blood like serpents. Razor-sharp bones jutted from beneath the crimson waves. The air smelled of iron and rot.

Dirga’s eyes widened.

This was it.

Sasa’s words echoed in his head:

"When a Concept becomes strong enough, it doesn’t just empower you... it becomes real."

This was real.

The Butcher’s Blood World had manifested.

"Theryn! Saelari!" Dirga shouted through the chaos. "Fall back—guard Kaela! She’s the only shot we’ve got!"

Without hesitation, Theryn and Saelari darted backward, leaping beyond the swirling blood tide. They landed just outside Kaela’s glowing rune circle—Saelari already casting defensive glyphs in layers, while Theryn’s shadows wrapped around the perimeter like protective vines.

Kaela stood at the center.

The Butcher grinned, blood coating every inch of his massive body.

"You want to face me alone in this state?" he growled, lifting his halberd. "A brave one indeed... or maybe just stupid."

Dirga didn’t answer. He couldn’t afford to.

Behind him, humanoid shapes—blood-forged constructs—rose from the crimson sea and began slithering toward Kaela, their limbs malformed, dripping, their eyes hollow and hungry.

Theryn and Saelari intercepted them without hesitation.

"Come on, you disgusting bastards," Theryn hissed, her shadows coiling into spears that impaled the nearest abomination.

Saelari’s runes blazed gold across her arms as she summoned barrier after barrier, creating a dome around Kaela. "I’ve got your back, Kaela! Just finish the spell!"

...

Dirga turned back to the Butcher, eyes burning.

"Come on, then," he growled. "Let’s finish this."

The Crimson Core shifted—bandage mode.

Red-black wrappings coiled around Dirga’s arms and legs like serpents, binding him in layers of hardened Zarion.

"Ahahaha!" the Butcher roared. "You think that will save you, puny human?!"

He swung his halberd.

And the sea obeyed.

A tidal wave of blood followed the arc of his weapon, rising high, crashing forward like a wall of screaming flesh and teeth.

Dirga moved.

But not like before.

This time, his gravity and telekinesis weren’t outward-facing tools—they were internal engines. He turned them inward, forcing his body beyond its limit. Each movement—each dash, dodge, and punch—was amplified.

Gravity pulled his steps into the ground, making him impossibly stable. Telekinesis surged through his muscles, giving each strike supernatural acceleration.

He vanished and reappeared in the Butcher’s blind spot.

Fist cocked.

And drove it straight into the beast’s eye.

BOOM.

The impact cracked the air. A ripple of force burst from the blow. Gravity warped around the point of impact.

But—

The eye regenerated almost instantly, blood and sinew reforming like liquid steel.

"You insignificant FLESH-BUG!" the Butcher roared, staggering but not falling.

Dirga didn’t stop. He twisted and flipped backward, barely dodging the retaliation swing. The halberd cleaved the air like a guillotine meant for gods.

Sweat dripped from Dirga’s brow.

How long could he keep this up?

Every punch took a toll. Every dodge drew from a dwindling well of strength. His body was burning on the inside—gravity and telekinesis eating him alive with every second of overuse.

...

Meanwhile—

Theryn and Saelari were locked in a frenzied defense. Shadow blades tore through bloodspawn after bloodspawn. Saelari’s barriers shattered and reformed in rapid succession, glyphs glowing on every surface.

Still... Kaela stood untouched in the center.

Her eyes closed, blood leaking down her cheeks.

"I’m ready," she whispered.

The rune beneath her feet erupted into golden fire.

...

Back on the frontlines—

The Butcher growled low.

He slammed his halberd into the blood sea again. The ocean of gore began to churn violently, spiraling inward like a draining whirlpool.

Dirga tensed.

What is he doing now...?

The Butcher’s eye gleamed.

"Let’s end this."

He raised the halberd high—its blade absorbing all the blood around him. Rivers of crimson surged upward, pulled into the weapon as if reality itself were bleeding out.

"Halberd Style: Sever the Heart of the World."

The world went quiet.

The halberd pulsed.

This was no ordinary slash.

This strike wouldn’t just split the earth. It would cut through soul and concept—a blow that could unmake anything in its path.

Dirga felt it in his bones.

This wasn’t just an attack.

It was a death sentence.

"Fuck—" he hissed, eyes narrowing.

How was he supposed to stop that?

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