Last Ruler Of The Empty Throne-Chapter 60: Increase in strength III

The battlefield was quiet, almost too quiet. But the silence was deceptive, the kind that came not from peace, but from the lull before a storm.

It was now their turn.

Despite their earlier victories, the reality was harsh and unforgiving. Their strongest fighters had fallen in previous skirmishes, leaving the group weakened, their numbers thinned, and their morale fragile.

Jon knew that simply throwing them into combat again would be a mistake. These weren’t seasoned warriors; they were evolvers still grappling with their newfound powers, and if left to face the monsters alone, panic would claim them before any enemy did.

So, he stepped forward.

The cold air around him shifted as he raised his hands. From his fingertips streamed a pale, bluish mist, glowing like the light of a frozen moon. It spread outward in fluid waves, wrapping itself around the approaching creatures. The mist curled through the air like ethereal silk, weaving through the limbs of the monstrous horde, creeping up arms, torsos, and jagged jaws.

And then, in a voice no louder than a whisper, Jon spoke a single word:

"Stop."

The effect was instantaneous.

Every creature within the wave’s radius halted mid-motion. One had been lunging, its claws mere inches from the ground, and now hung suspended in mid-air. Another had turned its head in alarm, and its snarled expression was now frozen like a grotesque statue.

The entire battlefield froze, not just the monsters, but the evolvers behind him as well. They stared, wide-eyed, mouths slightly agape, their fear momentarily replaced by awe.

"Woah..." Jenny murmured, her voice a breathy whisper.

She had seen this power before. She had witnessed Jon’s ability to halt movement, but never like this. In the past, he could stop a few foes at a time—three, maybe five if he strained himself. But now, at least fifty monsters stood locked in place under his command. He hadn’t even broken a sweat.

"You’ve seriously leveled up," she added, admiration lacing her words.

Jon felt the tug at his energy reserves as the mist continued to expand, its hold tightening on the paralyzed monsters. The drain was real, but he pushed it aside. Now wasn’t the time to be conservative.

Beside him, Cynthia tapped the silver hairpin fastened in her braid. It shimmered momentarily before activating, projecting a golden transparent cube that enclosed them and the paralyzed monsters. Its light shimmered like glass dipped in sunlight.

Immediately, a wave of strength surged through the group.

"Oh... is this...?"

"I feel stronger..."

"What is this power?"

The lower-level evolvers blinked in surprise. Some had felt it before, back when Cynthia had activated her artifact briefly during an earlier battle. But in the chaos, they hadn’t known its source. Now, with fewer distractions and heightened awareness, it was clear who was responsible—and the effect was undeniable.

"Attack!" Jon commanded, his voice ringing out like a battle horn.

The tension broke in an instant. Fueled by adrenaline and bolstered by the cube’s empowering aura, the evolvers charged.

Crude weapons including iron rods, sharpened blades, and makeshift spears, swung through the air as the evolvers descended upon the immobilized monsters. Despite their frozen state, the beasts were anything but defenseless. Their bodies were thick with sinew, muscle, and unnatural resilience.

One man brought his weapon down again and again on the skull of a bone cat. It took ten heavy strikes before the creature finally crumpled, the light fading from its eyes.

Jon’s eyes swept the battlefield.

The monsters ranged in level from 4 to 12, significantly above most of the evolvers, who hovered between levels 2 and 4. Some hadn’t even unlocked their first skill yet.

And yet, they were winning.

As each monster fell, Jon received a cascade of notifications in his mind:

[YOU HAVE RECEIVED LEVEL 5 ’SHADOW CAT’ REMAINS][YOU HAVE RECEIVED LEVEL 7 ’POWER BEAR’ REMAINS]

The messages came one after another, a digital rhythm of progress. Jon’s mind flashed back to earlier days, when he, Jenny, and Cynthia would fight together, and the loot would be shared based on contribution. He turned slightly and noticed Cynthia’s surprised expression. She was getting the same notifications.

So, the rule still applied.

CLANG... CLANG... PTCHUU... BOOM...

The battlefield became a symphony of violence. Skills lit up the space with bursts of color and sound—flashes of energy, streaks of lightning, sonic booms. The evolvers were discovering themselves in the heat of battle. Some yelled in surprise as their arms morphed into blades.

Blade Construction was the most common but powerful skill that allowed them to shape weapons from their own flesh.

In at least ten different locations, Jon counted three people each wielding that same skill.

"Perhaps it can evolve," Jon mused aloud, "allowing them to form weapons from other body parts."

Other skills began to manifest as well. Over-Speed granted a brief but potent burst of speed. Super-Punch enlarged the user’s hand for a single, devastating blow. They were rudimentary skills, but effective.

Yet Jon couldn’t help but notice the lack of elemental or manipulation-type skills. There were no elements like fire, ice, or gravity. Nothing exotic.

"I want to see blood manipulation," he muttered, his thoughts drifting to the endless possibilities of such a power.

Unbeknownst to him, a subtle change had taken place within himself. His once open dialogue with Jenny and Cynthia had become quieter. The distant heart within him, the same one that lent him calm under pressure, was slowly isolating him.

He observed, analyzed, but rarely spoke. And so his thoughts multiplied, spiraling into ever more creative ideas about how each skill could be used.

Hours passed. The evolvers had not only survived—they had thrived. Each kill replenished their mana, and though fatigue clung to their bones, the fire in their eyes never dimmed.

When the last immobilized monster collapsed, silence blanketed the field.

They stood panting, weapons slick with blood, faces alight with victory.

Not one had fallen.

They looked at Jon with newfound reverence. He had guided them to victory, empowered them, and believed in them when others might have discarded them. He could have slaughtered them, stolen their orbs, or claimed every kill. But he hadn’t.

He had led.

And now, they didn’t see a university student or a peer—they saw something greater.

"Well done," Jon said at last, his voice low but commanding. "Rest. We’ll push again soon. There aren’t many left."

They saw no more monsters around them, but if Jon said there were, they believed him.

"Yes!" they shouted in unison.

The strength in their voices surprised even him.

Cynthia smiled as she watched the scene unfold. Jon’s potential had never been in doubt for her, but seeing it manifest so vividly—leading dozens, wielding power, shaping people—it filled her with both pride and caution. He still kept his distance. That hadn’t changed.

Thirty minutes passed. Then, without warning, another wave of monsters crept into view. This time, they were faster, stronger, and fully aware.

"Attack!" Jon’s voice rang out again.

There was no hesitation. Cynthia deployed the cube once more, and this time, Jon and the girls joined the battle.

Jon’s rod transformed seamlessly from spear to sword to hammer with every swing, his movements guided by mana. His strikes were brutal and efficient, reducing enemies to piles of broken limbs and crumpled bodies.

The final monster fell with a metallic shnk—so sharp it cut through the fading roars of battle like a knife through cloth.

Then, silence.

The kind of silence that only comes after chaos.

The ground was soaked in blood—green, blue, and red. A tapestry of death.

"Retrieve the cores," Jon ordered.

The evolvers, exhausted but obedient, began their grim task. They stabbed into the fallen beasts, extracting glowing orbs and crystal-like cores from twitching corpses. A few muttered curses under their breath at the mess, but none disobeyed. 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝙬𝙚𝓫𝒏𝓸𝓿𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝙤𝓶

Jenny and Cynthia approached him, their expressions serious.

"We can’t give them all the cores," Cynthia said quietly.

"I was thinking the same," Jon replied, eyes scanning the piles of bodies. "Even with low drop rates, there’s way too much here."

"Have them report numbers," Jenny added. "Then we’ll decide what’s fair."

Jon nodded. "We’ll handle it later."

The harvesting continued for another hour. Despite their exhaustion, the evolvers pressed on, methodically checking each corpse. In some ways, the work was more taxing than the battle itself.

As the sun dipped beneath the horizon, Jon stood atop a small ridge and addressed the group.

"Well done, everyone. With this, you can call yourselves true evolvers."

A murmur ran through the crowd, leaving them in satisfaction, relief, and pride.

Many had seen Jon at his darkest, when he had punished and even tortured their former leader. But now, they saw something different. A warrior. A tactician. A protector.

"The moment we return, hand over the cores. We’ll discuss what comes next."

Some frowned. Cores were valuable. But they didn’t argue.

They couldn’t. Not against him.

And so, with weapons slung over their shoulders, blood crusted into armor, and eyes glowing with experience, they began their march back to camp.

Stronger. Wiser. United.

And behind them, the battlefield remained littered with bodies, echoing with the ghosts of a hard-fought victory.