SSS Talent: From Trash to Tyrant-Chapter 404: The Fall of the Thal’zar [XVIII]

Chapter 404: Chapter 404: The Fall of the Thal’zar [XVIII]

The impact came without warning.

THOOM.

The sound rolled through the castle like a blunt instrument, deep and heavy enough to rattle bone. The roots of the dome vibrated violently, several strands splintering under the strain before Karon reacted on instinct.

He raised one hand and tore a section of the living barrier apart.

Roots unraveled and withdrew, opening a wide breach to the outside. Cold rain and ash-laced air rushed in, along with the noise of the battlefield, sharper now, closer. What lay beyond made the breath catch in Trafalgar’s chest.

A root unlike any other pierced through the structure of the castle.

It was massive, so thick that its surface looked less like wood and more like a living wall, its bark ridged and ancient. It rose at an angle that suggested impossible scale, disappearing upward beyond sight, as if it had grown straight through stone and tower alike without resistance.

And standing on it—

Kaedor.

His presence was unmistakable even at a distance. A dark aura clung to him, heavy and warped, distorting the air around his body. Gnarled claws extended from his hands and legs, digging into the root beneath his feet. Coarse hair had begun to spread along his back, his silhouette no longer entirely humanoid, something feral bleeding through with every movement.

Opposite him stood Elenara.

She looked calm.

Roots coiled and shifted at her command, responding to subtle gestures, bending and growing with absolute precision. The storm of magic around her was controlled, deliberate, every movement purposeful. Where Kaedor radiated corruption and violence, Elenara embodied restraint and mastery, nature bending not in fury but in certainty.

Trafalgar watched for a long second.

Then he spoke.

"Your mother looks busy," he said, voice even. "And we’re not in much better shape down here."

Karon’s gaze locked onto the scene above, jaw tight. He said nothing at first, watching the clash of forces playing out beyond their reach. Another shock rippled through the castle as the massive root shifted under Kaedor’s weight.

"They’re handling something we can’t interfere with," Trafalgar continued. "Which means our job doesn’t change."

Karon finally looked back at him. "You’re saying we wait."

"I’m saying we hold," Trafalgar replied. "Until that battle is decided. Because if you want to get in there, go ahead"

Another tremor ran through the stone beneath their feet, smaller this time but closer. The sound of Void Creatures shrieked from somewhere below, followed by spells detonating in rapid succession.

Karon exhaled through his nose.

"For now," he said slowly, "the lycans stay."

Trafalgar didn’t react.

"They fight," Karon added, his tone hard. "They bleed with the rest of us. When this is over, they go back in chains."

Trafalgar inclined his head slightly.

"As you wish," he said. "Your Highness."

There was no mockery in the words. Just a thin edge of irony that Karon caught immediately.

Another THOOM echoed through the castle, closer than before.

The roots around them tightened again, sealing the opening as Karon reasserted control. The dome reformed, shutting out the sight of Kaedor and Elenara, leaving only the distant weight of what was unfolding above them.

Inside the barrier, the battle pressed on.

The next THOOM hit closer than the others.

From the side.

The vibration ran through the stone floor in a sharp, uneven wave, close enough that dust spilled from cracks along the roots of the dome. The sound that followed wasn’t a roar or an explosion, but something heavier—stone tearing, supports failing, space being forced open where it shouldn’t have been.

Trafalgar turned his head at once.

The noise was coming from one of the inner corridors branching off the main structure. A route that should have been sealed by now. A route they were covering for one reason only.

Escape.

Roots peeled back as Karon reacted instinctively, opening a narrow passage to see what was happening. The moment the gap formed, the sound rushed in—panicked voices, boots scraping over broken stone, the wet slap of bodies stumbling through mud and debris.

People were coming through.

Civilians first. Some unarmed, some barely able to stand, dragging children or wounded companions with shaking hands. Behind them, soldiers followed in uneven clusters, armor dented, weapons chipped, faces streaked with blood and rain.

Trafalgar’s grip tightened on Maledicta.

And then something else moved among them.

Void Creatures spilled from the corridor walls, crawling out from shattered stone and collapsed arches, slipping in between the fleeing figures like shadows given weight. Screams broke out immediately as claws reached for exposed backs.

"Hold the line," Trafalgar said, already moving.

He stepped forward and cut down the first creature before it could reach the nearest civilian, Maledicta flashing once through rain and panic alike. Another followed, then another, bodies dropping at his feet as he forced space where there had been none.

Karon didn’t hesitate.

Roots exploded upward from the ground along the corridor, thick and jagged, impaling Void Creatures mid-lunge. Some were crushed against walls, others pinned in place as the living wood tightened and twisted, snapping torsos apart with brutal efficiency. The difference his presence made was immediate. The pressure eased. The flood slowed.

More Void poured in anyway.

Trafalgar shifted his stance, stepping into the chaos without breaking pace. His left hand flickered, steel appearing only when needed—Widow’s Whisper flashed once, then vanished, a creature collapsing before it could close its jaws. Maledicta never left his right hand, carving a path through anything that reached striking distance.

Karon advanced alongside him now, roots moving with sharp intent, no wasted motion. Where Trafalgar cut, Karon sealed. Where the line threatened to buckle, roots surged up to block, to lift, to pin, buying seconds where seconds mattered.

People kept coming through the corridor.

Too many to count.

Some wore colors he recognized. Others didn’t.

Trafalgar’s eyes tracked movement constantly, reading posture, weapons, intent. Every figure that emerged forced a choice. Every hesitation carried risk. If enemies slipped through, the dome would be compromised. If allies were cut down by mistake, there would be no fixing it.

He didn’t give orders.

There wasn’t time.

Steel rang. Roots cracked. Spells detonated somewhere behind them as mages or other classes shifted to support, pressure washing over advancing Void Creatures and knocking them back into the corridor.

They appeared behind the civilians.

Trafalgar caught the movement just as the flow of people thinned for a moment. Two figures stepped out of the corridor, already bloodied, already moving as if the fight had never paused.

Lysandra came first, blade low, eyes sharp despite the fatigue weighing on her shoulders. She cut down a Void Creature that tried to slip past the last of the evacuees and didn’t break stride.

Right behind her was Thaleon.

He looked untouched.

His armor was clean, his posture composed, rain sliding off him without mixing with blood. The reason was clear at once—his summons moved around him, intercepting threats before they ever reached his position, tearing Void Creatures apart in controlled bursts of force.

Thaleon’s gaze swept the field once, calm and assessing.

And then he advanced, as if the war had never reached him at all.