Floating Island - Triple S Talent-Chapter 516: Despair

Main Fortress #8

The valley was blanketed in thick mist. Towering trees formed a natural canopy that dimmed the sunlight, letting only pale shadows filter through. Five young warriors ran as fast as they could, their breaths ragged, feet racing against time. Behind them came the howls of beasts and the echoing laughter of Blood Troops and Maledictus Sect members—a sound that made their skin crawl.

Their formation was simple but well-trained. A young man ran in front, slashing through underbrush and small trees to clear a path. Behind him, another disrupted their trail, scattering traps and fog spells to hinder pursuit. In the middle, three moved side by side—but not all of them were fit to fight.

One of them, Thane, was carrying a young woman whose body hung limp like a rag doll. A violet arrow was lodged deep in her back—a cursed arrow, its poison slowly spreading, devouring her life force. Beside them, another girl pressed her palm against the wound again and again, injecting healing light while gritting her teeth, sweat streaming down her temples.

"Liora, hang in there…" Thane shouted, his voice hoarse and cracking. Tears fell from the corners of his eyes, running down his dust-covered cheeks.

Liora opened her mouth, her lips pale, her voice barely a whisper carried by the wind. "It's okay, Thane… just leave me…"

She inhaled with difficulty, her chest rising and falling weakly. "I'll only slow you down…"

Thane clenched his jaw. "No!" he yelled, never slowing his pace. "Stop talking… and STAY ALIVE!"

His tone was firm, but his body trembled, eyes red—anger, grief, fear, and helplessness all clashing within him.

Behind them, the man guarding the rear suddenly stopped. He stood still, then turned around with a smile.

"My friends… tell my mother I said goodbye." His voice was calm, almost cheerful. He raised his hand in a small wave. "I believe in the Light. And in all of you."

His eyes glowed brightly, his smile genuine, though the shine of tears in their corners couldn't be hidden. The final light of someone who had made peace with his end.

The other four, already running ahead, slowed and stopped. They turned, frozen.

Liora, still on Thane's back, shed fresh tears as she saw the distant silhouette. "Eron…" she whispered weakly.

The young man leading them stared at Eron with golden eyes. His jaw tightened, lips pressed into a hard line as he fought back the storm inside. His hand clenched tightly around the hilt of his light-forged blade.

"Eron…" he murmured. His voice quivered.

He drew a long, heavy breath. "May the Lord bless you, my good friend…" he said softly, full of respect, then turned away. He raised both of his swords—blades that shimmered faintly through the mist—and slashed at the towering trees ahead, carving a new path.

The other three only nodded, their tears held back by sheer will. They followed their leader, moving forward, leaving Eron behind.

But Eron's smile didn't fade. He stood tall, his shoulders relaxed, his eyes glowing with resolve.

"So this is what it feels like to be a hero?" he muttered with a chuckle, as if telling a small joke to himself. "Well… even if it's just for my four friends." He laughed quietly.

He turned—and locked eyes with a monstrous figure emerging from the mist.

A lizard-like beast, massive and muscular, its body covered in dark, shimmering scales. Glowing red lines traced across its skin like pulsating veins, channeling cursed energy that radiated dread.

It was one of the Blood Beasts—creations that fused wild creatures with forbidden dark magic.

Eron's gaze swept past the monsters and locked onto a man floating in the air behind them: a middle-aged figure in long black robes, hovering calmly. A dark blue aura wrapped around him, fusing with the black staff in his hand like an inverted spear.

Even from afar, the pressure of his magic pierced the air.

"He's the leader…" Eron whispered. His eyes sharpened, his voice dropping to a low but resolute murmur. "Then… you'll die with me."

Small orbs of light began to appear around Eron's body—tiny, clear, and glowing softly like paper lanterns. He raised his hand high and shouted, "Die!"

The orbs shot forward—not fast, but focused—cutting through the cold valley air and racing toward the front lines of the lizard beasts.

Boom.

A thunderous explosion shattered the air. The ground beneath the Blood Troops erupted violently, flinging dirt and stone, burying the creatures alive. Dust filled the sky. The stench of blood and scorched earth spread through the clearing.

"Three more to go…" Eron muttered, panting, but a faint smile returned to his lips. He placed a hand over his chest and whispered, "Wave of Faith."

From within him, a gentle light radiated—thin as morning mist—but it spread outward in a wide circle. When it reached the lizard beasts, their bodies twitched and spasmed. Some howled in pain, while others stood still, eyes spinning as if confused.

"It worked…" Eron said more firmly, his eyes fixed on the sky. "Now it's just you."

He looked straight at the black-robed man floating in the air. Their eyes met in a silent clash of will. From his stance alone, Eron knew: this man was a Player—a combatant with access to a systemic power far beyond ordinary cultivators.

"Tier-3…" he muttered bitterly. His fists clenched. No matter how he looked at it, he couldn't win. He was just a Tier-2 Faithwarden—a guardian of light, but not a front-line warrior.

But time was everything.

This chapt𝓮r is updat𝒆d by ƒreeωebnovel.ƈom.

The longer he held this man back, the greater his friends' chance of escaping. And that was enough.

"Light Spear!" Eron roared.

Light exploded from his hands, forming a two-meter-long spear. He gripped it tightly with both hands, spun it briefly for balance, then stomped the ground. A burst of light erupted beneath his feet, launching him skyward through the mist and smoke.

The black-robed man didn't move—he merely watched with a sneer.

"Tch. Not even a proper warrior of faith," he scoffed, raising his staff.

"Flame Circle."

Words of magic flowed smoothly from his lips, and from the ground below, red-glowing magic circles emerged. Within a twenty-meter radius, pillars of fire shot upward, burning trees and charring the earth.

But Eron didn't slow. The flames scorched his clothes, seared the edges of his robe—but his eyes remained locked forward. Just five meters left—one last push.

"Triangular Barrier!"

From the black staff, three lines of fire formed a blazing triangle in front of the man. In a blink, the triangle spun and solidified into a glowing hexagonal shield of red fire.

Tang—