Earth's Greatest Magus-Chapter 2862: Tribulation

Crack! Crack! Crack!!

The sound of something breaking did not come from the sky—but from within her.

"ARRRGHH!!"

Klea’s cry tore across the golden mountain.

The air trembled. The ground beneath the Divine Instrument vibrated.

Above, the sky responded.

Clouds that had been drifting lazily moments ago began to gather with unnatural speed, folding inward from every direction. What had been blue turned gray, then black, then something deeper—an oppressive veil that swallowed light.

Wind currents twisted upward in spirals, drawn toward the epicenter where Klea hovered, suspended in mid-air.

Her body glowed faintly, an ethereal radiance outlining her figure as the void within her soul opened. Her shattered inner world began pulling cosmic essence from the heavens, forming a vortex that connected sky and soul.

The formations below flared to life.

Runes carved into the golden mountain ignited one by one. Arrays spun into alignment, drawing cosmic currents inward and stabilizing the surrounding space.

All waited in tense anticipation, wondering what kind of cosmic tribulation would descend upon her.

Cosmic tribulations unfolded in stages. The first stage of cosmic lightning usually consisted of three to nine strikes. The fewer the strikes, the weaker the foundation. The stronger the comprehension, the more heaven demanded.

BOOOOM!!!

The first bolt descended like a white spear.

Klea lifted her bare hand.

Lightning slammed into her palm, exploding in a blinding flash that illuminated the entire mountain. The impact forced her body downward half a meter—but she held firm. Instead of deflecting it, she absorbed it. The current coursed through her meridians, refining her bones, flesh and soul.

She exhaled.

"Again."

BOOM! BOOM!!

The second and third bolts followed in rapid succession. She did not dodge. She did not shield. She accepted both into her body, her frame trembling but posture unbroken. The ground beneath her blackened from residual discharge.

Before the fourth strike could descend, the sky changed.

The clouds thickened unnaturally, compressing into a deeper hue. The air vibrated with heavier pressure. A blue glow began to pulse between the layers of cloud, not white but electric sapphire, crackling with greater intensity.

Klea’s tribulation evolved,

The second stage.

Grand Tribulation.

This classification did not merely test strength—it marked one whose talent had drawn envy from the heavens.

The fourth strike descended, the pressure doubling as arcs of sapphire energy lashed across the sky.

Klea moved without hesitation.

The Stormrazor Staff materialized in her grasp—a top-grade tier-six artifact Emery had purchased from the Alfa Station. Its runes flared alive the instant her fingers wrapped around it, channels along its length igniting with contained thunder.

When the blue bolt crashed down, she did not evade.

She thrust the staff upward.

The impact exploded in a blinding burst. Instead of resisting the lightning head-on, Klea redirected its structure. The staff split the descending bolt into branching streams, fracturing its concentrated core into manageable arcs. Each fragment twisted along the staff’s conductive runes before spiraling downward into her body in controlled currents.

Her meridians glowed as the tribulation energy was drawn inward. There was pain—but not chaos. Her will held firm, channeling the destructive force into strengthening her foundation

"Spectacular," Veyarel muttered from below, unable to hide his admiration.

The fifth bolt began to form almost immediately, thicker and heavier, the blue deepening toward indigo. Its aura was nearly twice as oppressive as the fourth.

It fell like a collapsing pillar of heaven.

Klea raised the Stormrazor again.

This time the backlash was fiercer. Though she split and absorbed the lightning as before, the raw force still crashed into her frame. The shockwave tore through her defenses and forced a spray of blood from her lips. Her body dropped several meters before she forcibly stabilized mid-air.

For a brief second, her aura flickered.

Then she straightened.

Blood traced the corner of her mouth, but her eyes did not waver. She lifted her gaze toward the storm with open defiance.

The sixth lightning descended.

Then the seventh.

Each strike intensified, each refinement digging deeper into flesh, bone, and soul. Her skin began to char in places, veins glowing faintly from residual current. Every nerve screamed in protest as cosmic force tore through her channels.

Still she endured.

Seven of nine taken fully.

By conventional wisdom, this was already more than enough. Most cultivators would allow the remaining strikes to be partially dispersed by external support, preserving strength and minimizing risk. The success rate was already high.

Below, Morgana and Rosia shifted forward instinctively. The two Karat grand magus prepared their arrays, ready to dampen the next descent.

But Klea lifted a trembling hand.

"No... not yet."

Her voice was strained, yet resolute.

She lowered the staff momentarily and began weaving a healing incantation across her own body. Threads of wind and water essence interlaced through her meridians, stabilizing ruptured channels and sealing minor fractures in her spiritual veins.

Above, the clouds churned violently.

Klea tightened her grip on the Stormrazor Staff and steadied her breathing.

She would take this one as well.

The sky gave a thunderous groan, as if the heavens themselves were grinding their teeth.

The eighth tribulation descended not as a bolt, but as a pillar—an immense column of condensed lightning that tore through the clouds in a single, catastrophic plunge. Its diameter dwarfed the previous strikes.

Klea reacted instantly.

Her staff traced a sharp arc before her as she invoked a far more complex spell. Wind spiraled outward in a roaring vortex, lightning coiled within it like serpents, and shards of ice condensed along the outer rim. In seconds, a blizzard storm manifested around her—howling gales infused with crackling energy and razor frost.

The descending pillar struck the storm.

For a breathless moment, the two forces wrestled in midair.

The storm fractured the tribulation, shattering nearly half of its descending mass into dispersing arcs that exploded outward harmlessly. But the remaining force punched through the blizzard’s core and crashed into Klea directly.

"ARGHHH!"

Her scream tore through the arena.

Lightning flooded her body in a brutal torrent. Her muscles locked, her bones trembled, and her meridians felt as though molten iron had been poured through them. For several heartbeats she hung there, suspended between collapse and transcendence, trembling violently.

Then—slowly—she steadied.

Smoke curled from her skin. But her eyes lifted once more toward the sky, defiant and unyielding.

She prepared herself for the ninth and final strike.

And then—

The clouds shifted.

The deep blue storm darkened.

Purple bled across the sky like spreading ink.

A suffocating pressure descended upon the entire area, heavier than anything before. Even the watching grand magus felt their breathing tighten.

The tribulation had evolve once again.

Heavenly tribulation.

This was no longer envy from the heavens—it was wrath. A punishment reserved for those whose breakthroughs trespassed into forbidden territory.

Gasps rippled across the formation perimeter.

Heavenly tribulation was rare. The fact that Klea’s breakthrough had triggered such escalation stunned even Veyarel.

Fortunately, Emery had anticipated the possibility.

That was why the preparations were excessive.

And that was why he had told her firmly.

Do not face the final strike alone.

Truthfully, Klea believed she might have been able to endure it herself.

But she trusted him.

The purple clouds split.

From within descended not a simple bolt, but a shape—a towering spectral figure formed entirely of violet lightning. Its outline resembled an armored sentinel of heaven, faceless yet imposing, holding a spear forged from condensed tribulation energy.

The Heavenly Sentinel.

It raised its weapon and hurled it downward.

The spear of lightning tore through the air with apocalyptic force.

Klea did not panic.

Instead of casting a single spell, she spread both arms and began inscribing a formation seal directly in midair. Complex glyphs spiraled outward, layered with wind, ice, lightning, and her own soul force. Multiple defensive matrices overlapped in rotating rings before her.

The spear struck.

Her formation absorbed the initial impact—but only partially. The outer layer shattered instantly. The second layer fractured. Only about a third of the descending force was fully dispersed.

The remainder surged through.

At that precise moment, Morgana, Rosia, and the two Karat grand magus activated their prepared arrays. Their combined power rose in unison, intercepting nearly half of what remained, diverting and dampening it across the arena’s resonance structures.

Even so—

A final core of violet lightning pierced through and struck Klea directly.

"ARGHHH!"

Her scream was raw and primal.

The Heavenly Sentinel’s power tore into her soul itself, far deeper than the earlier strikes. Her aura destabilized violently, flickering as if on the verge of collapse.

But before that collapse could occur—

A wave of life energy surged into her from behind.

Emery.

He stood at the heart of the formation, hands extended, channeling a powerful restorative spell layered with wood essence and balanced law. Healing energy poured into her meridians the instant the tribulation struck, stabilizing the fractures as they formed.

Pain gave way to warmth.

The violent tearing within her soul began to mend almost as quickly as it was inflicted.

The violet figure above dissolved.

The ninth strike had been taken.

For several seconds, there was silence.

Many believed it was over.

But the heavens were not finished.

The clouds churned again—faster this time.

Klea had not received a single heavenly strike.

She had triggered a series.

Fortunately, she had listened. Fortunately, they had prepared.

The previous strike had been partially blocked, preserving Klea’s stamina. She steadied herself midair, breath ragged.

The next bolt formed—

But it did not descend alone.

Twin spirals coalesced side by side—one emerald-white, swirling with violent wind essence; the other pale silver, radiating suffocating cold.

A dual tribulation.

Wind and Ice.

The heavens had decided she would not ascend easily.

All eyes lifted toward the storm as the twin forces began their descent.