SSS Talent: From Trash to Tyrant-Chapter 417: The Fall of the Thal’zar [XXXI]

Chapter 417: Chapter 417: The Fall of the Thal’zar [XXXI]

Icarus remained standing.

The cut across his abdomen refused to seal, its edges faintly darkened where the residue of [Morgain’s Verdict] lingered like a stain that would not fade. His core pulsed again, harder this time, violet light flaring beneath his ribs as he forced mana through damaged channels. The regeneration responded, but sluggishly, as though something unseen kept tightening around the wound each time it tried to close.

His gaze sharpened.

If pressure would not subside, then it would be overwhelmed.

The air around them dimmed almost imperceptibly as he reinforced [Mana Rot Field]. There was no visible fog, no dramatic surge, yet the ambient mana lost luster, like embers deprived of oxygen. At the same time, [Vector Spread] reactivated along every prior contact point, subtle fractures attempting to awaken beneath Valttair’s skin wherever blade and plague had brushed earlier.

Icarus extended his hand.

The first [Organ Decay Pulse] struck without projectile or warning, a compressed internal shock aimed directly at Valttair’s torso. Then another. And another. Rapid succession, layered pressure designed not to break bone but to disrupt organs from within. Beneath them, [Plague Dominion] deepened, the fractured stone taking on that thin grey sheen once more as if the castle itself had become a lung inhaling their mana.

Black fissures began to insinuate themselves under Valttair’s skin, faint lines tracing like cracks beneath porcelain.

Valttair did not retreat.

[Morgain’s Coreguard] formed in a single controlled motion, a flat plane of dark mana interposing itself at the exact angle of internal impact. The pulses struck and dispersed, redirected outward through precise alignment rather than brute resistance.

Two floating swords dipped simultaneously and pierced through the densest pockets of corruption, their edges carving through invisible saturation as though cutting fabric drawn too tight. The grey shimmer thinned where they passed.

Then Valttair shifted.

[Morgain’s Phase Dash].

A brief distortion, a displaced silhouette, and he reappeared beyond the heaviest concentration of decay, boots settling on cleaner stone without urgency.

The imbalance clarified itself in silence.

Icarus’ jaw tightened.

He forced his core to surge again.

[Apex Contagion].

The violet light within his chest intensified beyond its prior threshold, radiance bleeding through fabric in sharper pulses. The corruption layered across the chamber responded at once. The faint lines beneath Valttair’s skin darkened and throbbed. The air thickened, mana currents dragging as though moving through heavier medium.

Yet something failed to escalate.

The infections remained where they had rooted. They did not branch. They did not bloom. The microfractures along Valttair’s mana flow pulsed and then stalled, unable to widen beyond a shallow surface disturbance.

Valttair did not cleanse. He did not visibly reinforce either.

His core remained stable. Dense. Untouched in structure.

The floating swords shifted.

Their formation no longer circled loosely. It reconfigured with exact calculation. Two blades angled low and swept in tandem, forcing Icarus into lateral displacement. A third cut off the retreat line behind him. Another descended from above at a delayed interval, narrowing vertical escape. Two more adjusted fractionally, sealing the blind angles that Septic Mirage usually exploited.

The chamber tightened around him.

Valttair moved.

[Morgain’s Requiem].

Six arcs unfolded in controlled sequence, each curved shadow expanding outward with inevitability rather than haste. The crescents overlapped in layered geometry, crossing through distorted space where Icarus attempted to bend perception.

[Septic Mirage] flared in response, perspective warping, distances skewed by subtle degrees.

The first arc fractured the distortion.

The second crossed it.

By the third intersection, the illusion collapsed entirely, the warped geometry sliced apart like thin glass under pressure.

For the first time, Icarus failed to clear every trajectory.

Two cuts opened across his side. Another traced along his shoulder. A fourth grazed the outer thigh.

None were catastrophic.

All accumulated.

Blood traced a darker path down Icarus’ side, dripping in measured intervals onto fractured stone. His breathing had shifted, not ragged yet, but heavier than before. Each inhalation drew a fraction tighter through lungs already strained by internal imbalance.

Valttair advanced. One step. Then another.

The floating swords adjusted with him, never breaking formation. Two remained slightly behind Icarus’ shoulders, angled inward. One hovered near throat level. Another tracked his dominant hand. The rest shifted in subtle arcs, correcting angles before errors could form.

"You are running out of time, Icarus," Valttair said calmly, his voice carrying without force. "You have little left before death reaches you. Do you not think surrender would be wiser? I could grant you a quicker end than this. Do you not see the difference between our levels? It is useless to resist the outcome we both know is approaching."

Icarus exhaled through his teeth, a faint, humorless breath.

"Oh... you truly do not understand," he replied, though strain edged beneath the words. "But that is fine. One day you will. For now, this is enough. I can leave in peace." His lilac eyes flicked upward briefly. "I hope nothing has happened to your family, Valttair. As you know... I have a few puppets scattered here and there. Plague is versatile."

For the first time, something paused behind Valttair’s gaze.

A calculation.

Possibility.

Bluff.

He did not allow it to root.

"A decent attempt," Valttair answered evenly. "But I do not believe any of my children are foolish enough to lose focus at a moment like this."

Icarus’ smile widened faintly despite the blood at his lips.

"Are you certain? Not all of them are machines like you, Valttair. They are people. Humans." His eyes sharpened. "Humans are not perfect."

He moved.

[Plague Mark: Carrier’s Sigil] slipped forward in near-invisible implantation. At the same time, [Hemocurse Bloom] stirred along prior shallow cuts, dark vapor trying to rise from reopened lines. A final [Organ Decay Pulse] condensed, sharper than before, aimed directly at Valttair’s core.

A floating sword descended and cut through the point of implantation before the sigil could expand, severing the forming anchor like thread sliced mid-knot.

[Morgain’s Dual Crest].

Two black lines crossed in front of Valttair and collided, rupturing the internal pulse before it could destabilize. The shock of the crossing arcs shattered the layered attempt into fragments that dispersed across the chamber.

Valttair stepped through the dispersing residue and drew his blade sideways.

A clean lateral cut opened across Icarus’ flank, deeper than the previous ones.

Moonlight caught the falling blood.

Icarus’ posture faltered for a fraction.

The difference between them was no longer subtle.