The Evolution Of A Goblin To The Peak

Chapter 1271: Traitor of the Supreme Council

On the battlefield below, the war hit its breaking point.

Yuko exploded into motion. Power detonated from her body as she drove her opponent down, smashing him into the seabed like a falling star. She didn’t stop as she descent, her form igniting into a blazing meteor that tore through the ocean and crashed after him.

BAAANG!!

The seabed didn’t just crack, it caved in. Stone and silt erupted upward in a violent plume as the ocean itself convulsed. The water boiled, screaming with heat as shockwaves ripped outward, shredding everything in their path.

When the chaos thinned, she was already there.

A Seventh Shackle Realm expert froze as he saw it. Yuko, standing amidst the ruin, her foot crushing down on his comrade’s chest. The man beneath her convulsed violently, blood bursting from his mouth, his ribs audibly grinding under the pressure.

ROOOAAARRR!!

Her roar tore through the ocean like a living thing. The temperature surged again and then again until the surrounding waters warped and shimmered, unable to withstand the inferno radiating from her body.

[Flame Expansion]!!

A violent torrent of flames gushed from beneath her foot, flooding into the man’s body like a living blaze. His flesh ignited instantly, skin blistering, and splitting.

”ARHHH—!! NOOO—!!”

His scream was raw, animalistic.

The burning went deeper than flesh. He felt it, his nerves charring, his senses collapsing one by one as if erased. Muscle, bone, energy, everything was being burned. Even his defenses melted away under the relentless heat, stripped down to nothing.

He wasn’t just being burned.

He was being undone.

Yuko looked down at him. Then she opened her mouth.

Energy gathered instantly, violently, spiraling inward like a devouring vortex. The ocean trembled as the pressure mounted, a low, suffocating hum building into something catastrophic.

OHHHMMMM!!

”N-No...!! S-Stop—!! You can’t—!!”

He clawed at her leg, his strength fading, his body no longer responding. Desperation twisted his face as he stared into the storm forming within her.

It reached its peak.

For a fraction of a second, everything stilled.

[Bestrou]!

The beam erupted.

His upper body vanished instantly, devoured by the blast before he could even scream again. The force punched straight through the seabed.

BOOOOOOM!!!

The ocean floor shattered. Entire sections collapsed inward as the explosion tore outward in all directions, crushing, burning, obliterating everything caught within its reach. The water churned into a violent maelstrom, glowing with residual heat, filled with ash, blood, and ruin.

And at the center of it all, Yuko stood unmoving. Like a calamity given form.

OHHHMMM!!

A strange, oppressive energy surged across the battlefield. It was vast, heavy, and unmistakable.

It swept through the ocean like an invisible tide, pressing down on everything in its path. Warriors in the midst of combat froze, their instincts screaming as they turned toward its source.

They all understood.

”A Hero-rank... has fallen?!”

”No...!!”

”Sir!!”

The remnants of the Seventh Shackle Realm expert’s power scattered wildly, dissolving into the surroundings like a collapsing star. The energy he once contained flooded the battlefield, turning the water dense as if an enormous weight had settled onto everyone’s shoulders.

Breathing became difficult and movement slowed. It was the echo of death. Not just any death, but it was the fall of someone at the Hero-rank.

The remaining Seventh Shackle Realm expert clenched his teeth so hard they creaked. His eyes trembled as he stared at the devastation left behind.

Fear seeped in slow, cold, and undeniable.

He knew.

He wasn’t enough.

Not against that.

Not against her.

Almost instinctively, his body betrayed him, he took a step back. Because Yuko had turned her gaze toward him.

That single glance felt heavier than the ocean itself.

On the other side of the battlefield, Franklin threw his head back and laughed.

”HAHAHAHA!!”

His laughter roared through the water, wild and unrestrained.

”I guess I shouldn’t play around anymore! Yuko even got the first kill!”

His eyes sharpened as he turned toward the three remaining Seventh Shackle Realm experts.

Something shifted.

The water around him darkened and thickened as his bloodlust surged like a rising storm. At the same time, his dream power began to seep outward, creeping silently through the ocean like an unseen predator closing in.

The battlefield itself seemed to warp under his presence.

”Scrubs of the ocean...”

His grin widened, cruel and eager.

”I’ll kill you one by one... so struggle with everything you’ve got.”

Then, he vanished and in the next instant, Franklin shot forward, tearing through the water with explosive speed as he charged the three experts once more like a predator unleashed.

...

The Auran Household, one of the pillars of power within the Tarrant Nation.

A name that carried authority like a blade at the throat. In the Tarrant Nation, there were few who would dare defy it... and fewer still who could survive doing so.

At its helm stood Sers Auran, the Patriarch, and one of the ten elders of the Supreme Council.

At the front gate, dozens of guards and attendants stood in rigid formation. The air was still.

Ohm!

The atmosphere buckled and a crushing presence descended from above, slamming into the ground like an invisible wave. The land trembled. The air thickened, heavy as the deep sea, pressing down on every chest, every lung.

Heads snapped upward and saw a figure dropped from the sky.

Gray scales glinted like forged steel. Gills along his neck pulsed faintly. Fin-like ridges traced his limbs, sharp and alien. He stood tall at the gate, unmoving yet the power coiled within him churned like a violent ocean barely held in check.

Even restrained, his aura leaked out and it was suffocating.

The guards’ knees nearly buckled. Cold sweat slid down their backs as instinct screamed at them to kneel... to submit.

They did.

”Greetings... Elder Nostior.”

”Greetings, Elder Nostior.”

Their voices trembled despite their effort to remain composed.

Nostior.

One of the ten elders of the Supreme Council. A being who stood at the very peak of power. He didn’t respond immediately. His gaze swept across them, cold, deep, like something lurking beneath dark waters.

He had not come for pleasantries.

The council meeting had ended only moments ago.

And the conclusion was clear.

Aqua Iron City was on the verge of collapse.

”Where is Sers?” Nostior’s voice was low, but it carried a pressure into their ears like a rising tide.

”P-Please follow me, Elder,” one of them managed, bowing even deeper.

Nostior stepped forward.

Each step was quiet yet it felt as though something enormous was moving beneath the surface.

They led him through the estate. No one spoke. No one dared. Even the air seemed to retreat from his presence.

At the Patriarch’s quarters, the guide stopped.

”I will take my leave.”

He didn’t wait for a reply. He simply fled.

Nostior pushed the door open.

Inside, an old man sat, still and silent.

Purple skin stretched over a towering frame that reached nearly three meters in height. His body, draped in a flowing white robe, radiated neither pressure nor force yet the space around him felt... anchored.

Like a mountain that had stood long before storms learned to rage.

Sers Auran.

Patriarch of the Auran Household.

And one of the ten who ruled above the Tarrant Nation.

Nostior strode forward without hesitation and took a seat across from his old friend. His gaze locked onto Sers, sharp, searching, and heavy with unspoken urgency.

”The information about Aqua Iron City... it’s true,” Nostior said, his voice low.

For a moment, Sers did not move. Then, his eyes opened.

”I know,” he said.

His voice was calm, too calm.

”The frontline will collapse soon. When it does, the army of the Bodam Kingdom will pour into our territory like a flood.”

A faint tension crept into the air.

Nostior’s brow furrowed.

”The Supreme Council is already in disarray. Freida has disappeared without a trace...” He paused, his expression tightening. ”We need to contact the Creasant Republic. If we act now, they might still...”

”It’s too late.” Sers voice echoed.

The words cut cleanly through the room.

Nostior paused.

”What do you mean...?” His eyes narrowed, a faint unease coiling in his chest.

Sers leaned back slightly, his massive frame unmoving, his presence steady.

”Today,” he said, ”the Depths of Banquet will change hands.”

A brief silence.

”All three nations will fall.”

The words struck like thunder.

Nostior shot to his feet, his chair scraping violently across the floor. ”You—!!”

Sers met his gaze without flinching, calm and unshaken.

”My friend,” he said softly, ”you should surrender as well.”

The air seemed to grow heavier with each word.

”It’s already too late to resist. Those who struggle... will only hasten their deaths.”

”SERS!!!”

The shout tore from Nostior’s throat. Then his body lurched. His breath hitched.

Something was wrong.

An invisible weight slammed down onto him, crushing his limbs, dragging at his muscles like unseen chains. His vision swam. His knees trembled but he refused to fall.

”What... did you... do...?” Nostior forced out, his voice strained.

Sers sighed.

”Poison... and formation,” he replied. ”If you had been more careful, you might have noticed.”

He shook his head faintly.

”But even you grew careless in the end.”

Nostior’s heart pounded violently as he tried to gather his energy but it slipped through him, sluggish, distorted.

Sers’ gaze drifted, distant for a moment.

”Those monsters from the dream realm...” he murmured. ”They have already set their eyes on our land.”

His eyes returned to Nostior.

”There was never anything we could do to stop them.”

Rage surged through Nostior, burning through the haze.

”You traitor...!!”

His teeth ground together, veins bulging as he forced power through his failing body. The air trembled faintly around him despite the suppression.

”I don’t care what you’ve done...” Nostior growled, his voice shaking but unyielding.

”If you think I’ll go down without a fight...” A flicker of killing intent ignited in his eyes. ”...then you’re dead wrong.”