The Evolution Of A Goblin To The Peak

Chapter 1196: Eztein vs. Spatial Whisperer I

The robed figures froze mid-chant.

One by one, their hoods turned slowly, almost mechanically until a dozen hollow gazes aligned on the intruders lurking at the edge of the candlelit chamber.

A murmur of unease rippled through the air, though not a single follower of Gluttony spoke.

They simply stared... first at Doranjan, then at Eztein, their heads shifting back and forth in a stiff, unnatural rhythm, like predators assessing which prey would die first.

Eztein exhaled and stepped forward, boots splashing lightly in the dark, viscous liquid coating the floor.

”Well,” he said, voice echoing faintly in the cavern, ”who would’ve thought we’d stumble into the Gluttony Army down here.”

No response.

Only silent, hungry eyes watching them, calculating.

Eztein glanced sideways at Doranjan without taking his gaze off the cultists.

”Leave this to me,” he said calmly. ”Find the exit. And maybe... find out why these lunatics managed to slip into the secret realm.”

Doranjan’s jaw tightened. ”Are you sure?”

”I’m sure.” Eztein’s voice sharpened. ”They’re weak. Not worth your time. But whatever they’re doing here or whatever they’re trying to achieve here... I want to know.”

The candles flickered violently, their flames bending toward Eztein as if the darkness itself inhaled.

”Fine.” Doranjan exhaled, rising into the air.

But the Gluttony Army didn’t hesitate. With a surge of violent energy, they lunged at him, their momentum shattering the air like a battering ram.

Boom!!

”Yours ends here!” Eztein roared, raising his hand.

From his palm erupted hundreds of writhing, grotesque strings of flesh, twisting and wriggling like serpents possessed by their own will. They shot forward at blinding speed, intercepting the fanatics before they could reach Doranjan.

The strings slithered and lashed outward, wrapping around the Gluttony soldiers. Lightning coursed through the living tendrils, crackling violently as it met the spells cast by the fanatics. Sparks flew as flesh collided with magic, each strike detonating like miniature thunderclaps.

In an instant, the bolts shattered the enemy spells. The electricity arced through the cavern, lancing into the dark liquid on the ground, sending geysers of blood and viscera spraying into the air.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Bodies slammed into the walls, heads snapping back violently, spitting crimson as the sheer force of the attack tore them apart. Their eyes went wide with shock, staring into the face of a power far beyond their comprehension.

Even the headless corpses in the center of the candle circle convulsed violently as lightning seared through them, the blood pooling beneath bubbling and hissing under the energy assault.

The cavern trembled under Eztein’s onslaught, the stench of ozone and iron filling the air like a prelude to carnage.

”Seventh Shackle Realm?!”

”The ritual—what about the ritual?!”

Panic rippled through the Gluttony Army as they tore themselves out of the cratered walls, dust and blood trailing from their battered bodies. Doranjan was already gone, vanished into the shadows above, yet none of them even remembered to look for him. Their eyes were locked on the real monster left behind.

Eztein.

He stared at them with a faint, almost cordial smile—too calm, too relaxed for a battlefield stained with so much blood.

”You’re all going to die today,” he said softly.

The words struck harder than any spell.

They knew it—every one of them was only at the Sixth Shackle Realm. Against someone who stood an entire shackle above, they were little more than prey waiting to be harvested.

Eztein bent his knees, muscles tightening beneath his skin like a coiled beast.

In a single fluid motion, he rushed forward, his hand sweeping behind him.

A spear slid free from his back, igniting with a cold, hungry light the moment it settled into his grip.

Swoosh!!

To the Gluttony Army, it felt like the world fragmented into a thousand afterimages—no, hundreds of spears, all thrust toward them at once. Their instincts screamed death.

”Barriers! All barriers—now!!”

They stacked layer upon layer of defensive wards, glowing shields folding over one another in a frantic rush. Light collided with light, spell circles stacked like panicked walls against a tsunami.

But Eztein’s spear didn’t slow.

It cut forward like a collapsing star, and the pressure alone made their bones creak. Their barriers trembled, rippled, and then—

Cracks spiderwebbed across the glowing surfaces.

[Hundred Collapsing Strike]!!

In an instant, the layers of barriers exploded outward like shattered glass. The spear descended with merciless precision, cutting through the Gluttony Army like a storm of steel and lightning. Several soldiers crumpled mid-step, their bodies torn apart before they even realized they were under attack.

Bang!!

It was as if a thousand boulders had slammed into them simultaneously. Limbs were shredded, armor splintered, and screams were choked into gurgles of blood. The surviving fanatics were hurled against the walls, impaled and crushed by the spear’s relentless force.

The cavern itself shuddered under the sheer power, dust and blood raining down like a storm. Only when Eztein’s eyes swept over the bodies and confirmed every last one of them was dead did the ground finally stop trembling.

He slid the spear back onto his shoulder, his gaze drifting toward the flickering circle of candles.

”Ah... I forgot to leave one alive,” he muttered with a faint sigh.

A voice suddenly echoed through the chamber, cold and sharp.

”You’ve grown stronger. I even felt your dream power just now.”

Eztein’s eyes snapped wide. Instinct flared, screaming danger, danger, danger. In a blur, he snatched his spear and slammed it against the ground. Massive chunks of rock erupted into the air, spinning like jagged missiles.

Ohm!!

But the incoming assault was faster. The rocks were cleaved in midair with precision, each shard leaving slashes of energy behind. Eztein leapt back, feeling the wind of the attack slash across him—ripping shallow lines across his arms and chest.

His foot slid across the slick, dark liquid, sending ripples across the floor as a streak of his own blood dripped down, mixing with the viscous pool beneath him. Eztein’s gaze snapped upward. Three figures emerged from thin air, materializing like shadows given form.

”Gluttony Army...” he muttered, recognition sharpening his senses as his eyes caught the symbol on their robes, identical to the fanatics he had just annihilated.

Swoosh!!

In a flash of light, the three figures descended, landing with the precision and weight of predators. Their robes whipped in the air, energy radiating off them in palpable waves that twisted the dark mist around them.

Three Seventh Shackle Realm experts.

Eztein’s expression hardened. If the Gluttony Army had sent Hero-rank experts, then this place wasn’t just important—it was vital. That made sense; it was tied to the former Ruler of Gluttony. No ordinary shrine would warrant such elite guardians.

One of the three stepped forward, pulling back his hood.

”It’s been a while,” he said, his voice calm but edged with lethal intent.

Eztein’s eyes narrowed. Recognition flared. ”You... Spatial Whisperer.”

The man before him was no ordinary foe, an expert whose command over space itself had left Eztein near death the last time they met.

”You escaped before,” Spatial Whisperer continued, his gaze icy, ”but today, you won’t be so lucky.”

Eztein’s lips curved into a faint smile. ”I don’t think so...”

Memories of their last encounter flooded him, his near-fatal defeat, the city he had barely saved, the endless pursuit across hundreds of kilometers.

”You’ve hunted me for months,” Eztein said, voice low, unwavering. ”And yet, you’ve never succeeded. Tell me... why should it be different this time?”

His fingers tightened around the spear, energy coiling around him like a living thing, surging faster, brighter, hungrier. The air itself seemed to tremble with anticipation.

This time, he wouldn’t run.

Spatial Whisperer’s eyes flicked to his two comrades. ”Follow the dragon. I’ll deal with this one myself.”

The pair exchanged a glance before nodding. Shadows swallowed them, and in an instant, they vanished into the surrounding darkness.

Eztein didn’t bother stopping them—he knew better than to interfere. Spatial Whisperer would never allow it anyway.

Spatial Whisperer turned back, his gaze sharp, calculating. ”Berserk Slayer... You’ve made quite a name for yourself. Many whisper your title in fear and awe.”

”I don’t give a damn about that!” Eztein roared, lunging forward with a thunderous charge. The spear in his hand blazed as he thrust it straight at Spatial Whisperer.

The manipulator moved with impossible grace. With a flick of one hand, he folded the space in front of him. With the other, he twisted the space behind him, warping the very fabric of reality around Eztein.

Bang!!

Eztein’s momentum erupted, his energy surging in a blinding aura, but he struck nothing but empty air. The distorted space carried him forward as he leapt, his body slicing through the folds, moving like a blade through smoke.

Fighting someone who could manipulate the very fabric of space was a nightmare. Every strike was unpredictable, every movement deceptive.

”You’ve been hunting our forces... slaughtered thousands of our people,” Spatial Whisperer’s voice rang out, cold and echoing across the distorted void. ”You’ve taken hundreds of bounties, and you even hunted those who dared chase the Blood Lightning Monster.”