Chapter 112: The Eye of the Storm

In an instant, Veil’s vision was engulfed in complete darkness. Apart from the deafening roar that thundered incessantly in his ears, all other sounds vanished.

Unprepared as they were—Veil, Thassa, and even Skandori, whose strength was gradually returning—they were instantly overwhelmed by a terrifying pressure that pinned them to the ground. Even the slightest movement of a finger became excruciatingly difficult. Veil’s face twisted wildly; he had already abandoned his wand, lying mere inches from his palm, and desperately clawed at the jagged stones beside him. The sharp edges sliced through his tender skin with ease, blood pouring out in blinding torrents. Yet, Veil paid no heed to the pain. Clinging to this fragile lifeline, he poured all his magical energy from the sea of his consciousness, hastily casting four or five layers of magical defense upon himself to resist the dreadful storm. Around him, thick stone slabs surged up layer by layer, anchoring him firmly to the earth. Still, Veil was unsettled. He even considered using ice magic to freeze himself to the ground irrevocably.

But before he could act on this desperate thought, the oppressive weight transformed into an indescribable suction force. The stone slabs binding him, and the vast patch of earth beneath him—tens of meters wide—were ripped up and hurled into the air by this overwhelming pull.

The suddenness left Veil no time to react. A fierce gust, like a flood, surged through his mouth into his lungs. The wind, sharp as blades, tore mercilessly at every inch of his body. His chest and lungs felt as if they had been slashed open by claws, wracked with excruciating pain. Yet Veil could neither cry out nor breathe properly. The savage gale was so violent it forced his eyes shut and nearly suffocated him.

Veil had never imagined such a furious storm could exist. Despite clutching tightly to the massive chunks of earth lifted with him, striving to keep his body as close as possible to them, the tempest’s ferocity was beyond his resistance. The black storm engulfed him utterly.

A crisp snap broke through the thunderous tumult—so faint it might have gone unnoticed amidst the chaos, but Veil heard it clearly. Before he could process it, several more faint snaps followed. His heart jolted; in a flash, he understood what the sounds meant. His mind short-circuited, blanking out entirely for several seconds. Almost instinctively, he looked down and saw the stone slabs that held him were fracturing simultaneously.

Veil’s complexion drained completely. After a tense two or three seconds, he remembered he needed to act. But at that moment, a massive shadow crossed the corner of his eye, sending a chill through his heart. Before he could react, a huge boulder grazed his scalp narrowly, crashing onto the massive earthblock beneath him.

Boom!

The deafening impact shattered the earthblock into fragments. Veil lost his only shield—fragile as it was, it had at least offered a sliver of comfort.

The terrifying roar persisted, reverberating in his skull like a relentless buzzing. His mind went blank. In his dimmed vision, only endless blackness remained. Gritting his teeth, Veil screamed hoarsely, forcing his closed eyes to open just a sliver—his absolute limit.

The wind howled like razor-sharp blades. Veil’s barely opened eyes nearly shut again from the sting. Burning pain shot through his eyeballs along his nerves to his brain, warning that forcing his eyes open further might destroy them. But there was no time to hesitate. Battling the monstrous storm, Veil struggled to maintain his posture to minimize injury. One hand shielded his head; the other barely held back the onslaught of flying debris.

Despite his best efforts, Veil’s body suffered grievously. It felt as though he had plunged into a vast maelstrom of cutting wind magic. The storm was a colossal meat grinder. Within moments, his clothes were shredded to tatters. His body was marked by wounds half a centimeter deep, crimson blood gushing relentlessly, turning him into a bloodied figure visible from afar.

His eyes were bloodshot, not from internal hemorrhaging, but from the relentless assault of the storm’s razor winds. Though his palms absorbed much of the damage, one eye lost all sight. Blood dripped steadily from the corner of that eye. Veil bit down hard on his already torn lips. The searing pain from his wounds was unimaginable, yet he ignored it, observing his surroundings, piecing together his location.

Uncertain if it was fortune or misfortune, Veil found himself at the storm’s very center—a place of danger far exceeding its fringes. This was perhaps his greatest misfortune. Yet, despite his battered state and fragile frame, he retained remarkable clarity of mind—a stroke of luck amid calamity.

Bang!

Veil collided with several unknown objects many times his size. Though he survived, the impacts caused him to spew blood and nearly lose consciousness. Several ribs cracked from the blows to his chest. The last hit tore a chunk of flesh from his thigh, exposing raw, gruesome muscle and pale bone.

As a mage, Veil’s sensory perception was far keener than most. This extraordinary sensitivity helped him stay lucid amid the chaos but also magnified his pain exponentially. Ordinary wounds would inflict him agony multiple times over.

Veil was no warrior; mages were physically weak, often weaker than ordinary folk—a fact etched in everyone’s minds, Veil’s included. Waves of searing pain washed over him relentlessly, draining the color from his face. Sweat beaded and vaporized instantly in the fierce wind, yet his pallid skin remained slick with a chilling mix of blood and cold sweat, swiftly swept away by the storm’s darkness.

As his blood drained rapidly, the pain dulled to a numb ache, but Veil’s mind never ceased. He continually calculated his position, seeking any possible means of salvation.

He did not fear death—but he resolved never to succumb to it in this way.

After mere seconds of brief respite, his eyelids began to close involuntarily, fatigue crushing down like a mountain. In that instant, a fierce light flashed in his single remaining functional eye. Summoning every ounce of strength, he let out a beastly roar from his throat.

Then, without warning, Veil vanished into thin air.

Space magic.

This was the first time Veil had used spatial magic since arriving here.

Perhaps no more than the blink of an eye passed before his body reappeared dozens of meters above his previous position. Yet this new location was no safer; he was even closer to the storm’s furious core. To achieve this spatial leap, Veil had drained all the spatial magic within his sea of consciousness.

Bang!

Veil collided with another unknown object. The impact was harsher than before, but he only coughed blood and gritted his teeth. A faint green light enveloped his body, while beneath his feet, two balls of blazing fire erupted.

Roaring again, Veil bent his legs, harnessing the fiery thrust and his wind magic’s levitation to propel himself once more toward the storm’s eye, where darkness reigned supreme.