SSS Talent: From Trash to Tyrant-Chapter 400: The Fall of the Thal’zar [XIV]

Trafalgar watched the battlefield twist into something he did not like.

Void Creatures poured from the rifts without hesitation, tearing into whatever stood closest. Thal’zar soldiers fell beside allied troops. Former enemies died the same way as those meant to be protected. There was no pattern he could rely on. No line he could draw and say this side is safe.

’They’re not choosing sides...’

That realization dug in deeper than it should have. He had assumed there was structure to this. A pact. A direction. The Void Creature at the center of all this had been tied to the Thal’zar. Or at least, that was what everything so far had suggested.

But this was different.

If it was truly aligned with them, this level of indiscriminate slaughter made no sense.

Either something had angered it.

Or it had never been bound in the first place.

Trafalgar’s grip tightened around Maledicta as he kept moving, eyes tracking the flow of the fight. The chaos felt intentional, not wild. Controlled in a way that only became obvious once it was already everywhere.

What he could not see was the truth behind it.

The Void Creature was exerting control.

Those closest to it moved with a different purpose, turning only on its chosen enemies, avoiding Thal’zar positions with subtle precision. Farther out, beyond its immediate reach, the rest were left unchecked. Free. Unrestrained. Allowed to tear into anything that moved.

The result was perfect confusion.

To the outside, it looked like loyalty. As if the Void Creature still served Icarus, still honored some twisted agreement. In reality, it was acting alone, shaping the battlefield to suit itself, hiding independence behind shared destruction.

Trafalgar and the rest only saw the surface.

Trafalgar did not take long to decide.

His gaze shifted toward the captives held behind the lines. Lycans. Not long ago they had been enemies, weapons pointed in the wrong direction, blood already spilled between them. Now they were bound, forced to watch the same disaster unfold, unable to act while the world around them burned.

Chains did not matter anymore.

What mattered was what was coming out of the rifts.

Their enemy was no longer a house, a banner, or a command. It was the same for everyone standing there.

The Void.

Trafalgar moved toward them while the lines ahead strained to contain the surge. Steel clashed. Cries echoed. Pressure built with every passing second. He stopped in front of the lycans and raised his voice, making sure all of them heard him.

"Look around you," he said. "Look at the rifts. Look at what’s coming out of them."

His eyes swept over them, one by one.

"They’re killing everyone. Thal’zar soldiers. Allies. Enemies. Lycans, elves, humans. Any race that breathes in this world is being torn apart without distinction."

The noise of battle swallowed part of his words, but not their meaning.

He extended his arms slightly.

"Hundreds of rifts," he continued. "Hundreds of creatures that want us all dead. To them, there is no white or black. Everything is the same."

He let that settle before finishing.

"You have a choice. Stay here, bound, waiting to die. Or stand up and fight with us against the Void."

His voice hardened. "If you want to live," he said, "then earn it on the battlefield."

No flourish. No oath to honor. Just a condition.

Life, earned in battle.

For a moment, none of the lycans spoke.

Pride held them in place, sharp and wounded. Their chests rose and fell heavily as they watched the rifts tear open the world around them, watching warriors die without distinction. Enemies. Allies. It no longer mattered.

They understood the situation too well to deny it.

The House of Thal’zar was collapsing.

It was happening now.

One of them shifted forward despite the restraints. The lycan captain straightened as much as the bindings allowed, his gaze steady as he looked over the others.

"You all know why we were sent here," he said. His voice carried without effort. "You all know the order we were given."

The others turned their heads toward him.

"Lord Kaedor believed he would die today," the captain continued. "That was his judgment. His failure. But he did not intend for our house to fall with him."

His jaw tightened.

"Our task was simple. Live. No matter what it takes. Do not weaken the House of Thal’zar any further."

The sounds of battle pressed closer, the rifts vomiting more creatures into the corridors, but he did not rush his words.

"The rumors are true," he said. "The Void Creature exists. And it must be exterminated."

He lifted his head, meeting the eyes of every lycan present.

"If living means making choices we never thought we would," he added, "then we make them."

Then he turned to Trafalgar.

"We will follow you, Trafalgar du Morgain," the captain said plainly. "We are a warrior race. We do not strike allies in the back."

For a brief instant, Trafalgar hesitated.

Trusting former enemies in the middle of this was reckless. Dangerous. The safer choice would have been to leave them bound and move on.

There was no time for safety.

"Release them," he said.

The order went out immediately.

Bindings were cut. Chains fell to the ground.

Trafalgar’s voice carried over the chaos as the lycans rose to their feet.

"Then stand," he said. "And fight with us."

The lycans did not waste a second. 𝐟𝚛𝕖𝚎𝕨𝗲𝐛𝚗𝐨𝐯𝐞𝕝.𝐜𝗼𝗺

They turned toward the rifts.

And joined the war.

The lycans moved the moment the chains hit the ground.

They did not hesitate or look back. Claws extended. Fangs bared. They threw themselves into the flow of battle with the same intensity they had once turned against Trafalgar’s forces, only now that fury was aimed at the rifts. Void flesh tore under their strikes, bodies dragged down and ripped apart in close, brutal exchanges.

They fought like what they were. A warrior race.

Aubrelle took position immediately, Pipin circling above her in wide arcs. Blue fire poured down in controlled waves, burning through clusters of Void Creatures and forcing space where the lines threatened to buckle. The flames did not spread wildly. They were placed. Held. Maintained.

The Morgain soldiers followed through with precision. Blades rose and fell in rhythm, decapitations clean, movements efficient. Other allied forces held their own fronts, filling gaps, stabilizing pressure points, refusing to give ground even as the rifts continued to vomit enemies into the corridors.

Then Trafalgar stepped forward.

The effect was immediate.

More than a hundred Void Creatures turned toward him at once. Their advance faltered. Movements slowed. Some stopped entirely, bodies locked in place as the presence of Obsidian Wings washed over them. Fear rippled through them in a way nothing else on the field had managed to provoke.

His allies saw it.

They did not understand why it happened, but they understood what it meant.

Trafalgar was the axis of this fight.

He raised Maledicta slightly, not shouting, not rushing the moment.

"Now," he said, voice steady and unmistakable. "Counterattack."

The hesitation broke.

All at once, the battlefield surged forward, steel, fire, claws, and fury crashing into the stunned Void Creatures as the counterattack began in full.

Trafalgar moved first.

The moment the counterattack began, he was already in motion, Maledicta cutting a line through the chaos as his body vanished in a curved burst of speed.

[Severance Step].

His path bent unnaturally through the battlefield. One instant he was at the front line, the next he was gone, reappearing behind the Void Creatures in a fluid sequence of strikes. He did not stop after one. Or two. He chained the movement again and again, slipping through gaps that should not have existed, steel flashing as bodies fell before they could even turn.

Mana flooded him without restraint.

There was no effort to conserve it. No thought given to pacing. His core burned hot and full, feeding every motion, every cut, every transition. The battlefield blurred around him as he carved forward, pressure building with each step.

Then he planted his foot and drew everything inward.

[Morgain’s Final Crescent].

Energy collapsed toward Maledicta in a single, violent surge. The blade traced an inverted arc through the air, releasing a crescent of condensed force that tore outward in silence before impact. The strike cut through the Void Creatures in its path as if they were nothing more than mist, bodies split apart, erased, torn from existence in a sweeping line.

More than twenty fell in a single breath.

For a heartbeat, the battlefield froze.

Allies stared in disbelief. Even seasoned warriors faltered at the sight of it. The realization hit them at once—this was not just momentum. This was power on a level they had not prepared for.

Morale surged.

And Trafalgar felt it too.

Each kill sent something back into him. Subtle at first. Then undeniable. A reinforcement deep in his core, quiet but permanent.

Skill: Riftborn Feast (Passive)

Each Riftborn slain increased his total power.

The stronger the creature, the greater the gain.

He understood immediately.

’FINALLY I CAN USE THIS!!!!’

A low, amused sound escaped him before he could stop it.

’HeheheHEHEH...’

He did not slow.

Trafalgar pressed forward again, Maledicta rising and falling as the Void Creatures broke before him. Lycans tore into the flanks. Blue fire scorched the land. Steel rang out in relentless rhythm.

This was his moment.

The rifts kept opening. The bodies kept falling.

And Trafalgar kept advancing, carving deeper into the inferno, knowing one thing with absolute clarity.

The hell around them was far from finished.

But neither was he.