Poison God's Heritage

The writhing, grotesque mass of the Rakshasa abomination slithered toward the Beyond, its sickening body undulating like a nightmare come to life. Its shape was an affront to nature itself—an endless maw of gnashing teeth ringed by grotesque, pulsating limbs that terminated in fleshy suction cups.

As it moved, the air around it grew thick with the sickly fog the Rakshasa fed on, darkening the skies with the palpable weight of destruction.

The creature was an enormous, star-eating entity of living flesh that dwarfed even planets. Each pore on its foul body exhaled the poisonous Rakshasa fog, a gas that thickened the very air of the battlefield, infecting all who were unfortunate enough to breathe it. For the cultivators below, each breath felt like swallowing molten lead.

And yet, despite its monstrous size and terrifying presence, it was still advancing. Every strike from the Suns was dissipating upon impact, barely slowing its relentless march.

The Blue Sun was the only one whose efforts bore fruit. She fought like a demon, swinging her hammer with the strength of a thousand storms. Her azure Qi blazed through the darkness, turning her weapon into a moon-sized battering ram. With every swing, she left massive, gaping wounds in the Rakshasa's flesh, but even then, the creature kept regenerating.

But she was weakening.

Her once-mighty swings had begun to slow. Her breaths were ragged, her body trembling from the sheer exertion. The battle with the Cryptic Sun had drained her reserves to dangerous levels, and now, she fought on sheer will alone. Her Qi was depleting fast, and there was no time to recover. Every swing drained what little energy she had left, and she was starting to stagger after each blow.

It was clear she couldn't keep it up for much longer.

I could see it in her eyes—the fatigue, the weight of the endless battle. And though she was still giving it her all, her strength was waning. Her mighty hammer, once a symbol of invincible power, now felt heavier in her hands.

The other Suns were faring no better. Their attacks, no matter how carefully crafted or devastating, had no lasting effect on the Rakshasa. The Red Sun's Asura avatar, a monstrous construct of pure Qi, swung swords the size of continents, yet every strike passed through the creature without leaving a mark.

The Darkest Sun's materialized weapons were little more than shadows dissipating upon contact with the fiend's impervious hide. Even the Wisest Sun's mastery over spatial laws—capable of bending reality—was rendered ineffective. Space itself seemed to bend to the creature's will, returning to normal the instant it distorted.

I muttered under my breath, "Physical blows are the only thing that works." Then, I activated the communicator on my bracelet. "Everyone," I called out, my voice cutting through the din of battle.

For a brief, tense moment, the battlefield seemed to pause. I heard the Blue Sun's voice first, strained but relieved. "Shen Bao... you're awake. Good." A flicker of relief passed through her words, though it was laced with exhaustion.

"How are the other two?" the Wisest Sun asked. His voice was calm but weighed with concern. The battle was one thing, but the potential loss of fellow Suns was a catastrophe in itself.

"They're stable for now. But the Lording Sun's condition is critical—I need the power of a Sun Stage to break the chains binding him," I responded quickly.

"We really can't afford to exhaust ourselves further," the Red Sun cut in, frustration evident in his voice. "This thing is draining us dry."

I took a breath, knowing I had to act fast. "I know. But I need you all to back off for a few seconds—Blue Sun included."

"I can't!" the Blue Sun's voice cracked through the line. "The second I stop, that thing will rush toward the Beyond. We can't afford that."

"I know," I replied, urgency filling my voice, "but trust me on this one."

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Silence hung in the air for a moment. The others exchanged glances, and then the Darkest Sun spoke. "When do you need us to back off?"

"Now," I said, the plan already forming in my mind. "And get the lower-ranked cultivators out of the way. The blow is going to be... significant."

Though my instructions were vague, the Suns knew what was about to unfold. Far off in the distance, in the farthest reaches of the Beyond, hundreds of millions of tungsten rods began to stir. These rods, crafted by the Cryptic Sun himself before his betrayal, were a weapon of last resort—a project he had funded and built without fully understanding its true potential.

His deceit had caused us immeasurable suffering, but his twisted genius had left us a weapon.

Slowly, at first, the tungsten rods began to move. Their initial speed was negligible—barely a crawl—but within seconds, they accelerated exponentially. The rods cut through the void, moving faster than sound itself, each one a deadly spear aimed straight for the heart of the abomination.

From the Beyond, the scene must have looked like a meteor shower, with hundreds of thousands of rods glowing brightly as they blazed toward their target.n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

The Suns retreated, giving the creature space. It surged forward eagerly, sensing the momentary reprieve. The Rakshasa horde swarmed around it, emboldened by the gap left by the retreating Suns.

"Everyone," I called out again, my voice filled with urgency. "This attack will either kill it or buy us some time, but the force it generates... even I don't know how strong it will be. Make sure you're prepared for what's coming."

The armies of the Beyond scrambled, retreating as far from the target as they could. Eyes turned skyward as the rods—gleaming, silver spears of destruction—rocketed toward the enemy. The first few rods slammed into the Golden-Capped Rakshasa Brutes, who stood defiant in the face of death.

But defiance was meaningless.

The moment the tungsten rods struck, the kinetic energy they had gathered along their rapid acceleration erupted with devastating power. The impact was so intense that the brutes were torn apart instantly, reduced to nothing more than a fine mist of ash and bone. The shockwave from the impact radiated outward, obliterating anything in its path.

And that was only the first rod.

More were coming.

The Suns realized the impending devastation and pooled their Qi, raising massive barriers to shield the armies of the Beyond. The Bastion itself retreated under the command of Tao Yang, encased in layer upon layer of protective Qi.

Then the first full volley struck.

The sky was consumed by light, so bright it seemed like a sun had exploded in the void of space. The impact was immense, a supernova of raw, unfathomable power. For a moment, it felt as though the very fabric of the universe had been torn apart. The shockwaves rippled through the battlefield, tearing apart Rakshasa and disintegrating anything in their path.

But the worst was yet to come.

The second volley hit, followed by a third, and the devastation grew. The light became blinding, the shockwaves more violent. From the ground, it must have looked like the world was ending, as if a god had unleashed their fury upon the Rakshasa. And in a way, it was true.

"SHEN BAO!" the Darkest Sun's voice roared through the communicator, panic and alarm evident. "This is too much! It's going to tear the Beyond apart!"

And he wasn't wrong.

The shockwaves were so powerful that the Sea of Demons had become a churning, violent mass, its once-calm waters now forming towering tsunamis. The ground beneath the Beyond was quaking, cracking open as earthquakes rocked the land. Volcanoes erupted in a violent cascade, spewing molten rock and ash into the sky. Cities crumbled, their foundations no match for the seismic force unleashed by the rods.

But it was too late to stop.

"I can't stop it!" I yelled back, trying to reassure him. "But don't worry. The Beyond will hold. It's strong enough."

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the final volley struck, and the battlefield fell silent.

When the galactic dust settled, all that remained of the Rakshasa horde was ash. The space was littered with the shattered remains of their forces, the air thick with the stench of death. But the abomination, the First Born of the Rakshasa, was still alive.

Barely.

The creature was a mangled ruin, its body torn and burned beyond recognition. Planet-sized wounds gushed its vile blue blood, and its once-imposing form was now a twisted, disfigured mass of flesh. It could barely move, but it was still alive.

The Suns, exhausted but relieved, regrouped. The immediate threat had been dealt with, but the abomination was still a danger.

"It worked," the Wisest Sun said, his voice tinged with exhaustion. "But it's still immune to Qi."

"I'll have to exile it," the Darkest Sun growled, watching the creature's wounds begin to slowly regenerate.

"No!" I shouted, my heart pounding in my chest. "You can't send it to the Vast Expanse!"