Chapter 711: Final Move

It hovered in the air, a palm-sized construct of pure destructive energy, but it radiated a presence far beyond its size. The very atmosphere around the needle trembled violently, warping and shuddering as if reality itself rejected the existence of such a thing.

Violet tendrils sizzled outward like living serpents, crawling through the air and down to the battered ground below. The moment one of the tendrils kissed the stone, the earth screamed—melting into bubbling red lava in an instant before hardening to a dead black crust the next moment.

Everything in its proximity either burned or broke. Max stood completely still beneath the floating needle, feeling his hair rise, his body surrounded by the chaotic pressure of what he had just created. This wasn’t just a needle. This was the embodiment of precision destruction.

A single strike that could erase existence in a flash. And now, it was aimed directly at the eye of the storm—where the Storm King lay hidden within the lingering smoke and shattered terrain.

Max narrowed his gaze, took one silent breath, and then waited.

Soon, the chaotic echoes of the explosion began to die down. The searing roar of black flames faded into silence, and the dark inferno that had blanketed the battlefield flickered out like dying embers.

What remained was only a barren landscape of devastation—scorched earth, shattered stone, and thick plumes of dust rising from a crater that looked like the heavens themselves had struck down in fury.

Max stood still, eyes sharp, breathing steady, his senses fully extended. He didn’t lower his guard. Not yet. And then, through the settling haze, a faint flicker sparked. Crimson tendrils of lightning snaked through the dust like serpents awakening from slumber, dancing across broken terrain.

Max narrowed his eyes. ’He’s alive.’ That single thought echoed in his mind. He wasn’t surprised—cautiously impressed, yes—but not surprised.

RUMBLE!

A bolt of red lightning suddenly cracked down from the sky like divine judgment, slamming into the center of the dust cloud where the Storm King had last been seen. The flash lit up the ruined battlefield for a heartbeat—just a single second—but it was enough.

Max, with his Three Dimensional Body, locked onto the figure standing tall in the center of the blast zone. The Storm King was still there, unmoved, his back straight, his long white hair now fully charged and flowing like ribbons of lightning.

Crimson lightning coiled around his limbs and surged through the length of his red-glowing spear, which he held at his side like a divine weapon forged in thunder. His body crackled with power, but more than that—there was intent in his posture. He wasn’t finished.

Far from it. Max’s jaw tightened, the weight of the battle growing heavier. The storm wasn’t over. It had just reached its eye.

And then—

CRACKLE!

A flash of red lightning split through the air like a divine decree, and in that instant, the Storm King was there—just there—inches from Max, faster than he’d ever moved before. His entire body was a blur of crimson lightning, spear gleaming with wrathful energy, its tip aimed straight for Max’s chest like it intended to pierce through his very soul.

The force of his sudden arrival warped the air itself, sending ripples outward like reality was bending under his speed.

But no matter how fast he was, no matter how overwhelming the momentum or terrifying the pressure, he had already been seen.

Max’s Three Dimensional Body had caught it the moment the flicker of red surged. In the very breath that the Storm King appeared, Max moved—not his body, but his will. He released the one thing he’d been restraining this whole time.

The Violet Lightning Needle.

With a sharp twist of his hands, Max let the needle go wild. All this time, he had kept it in check, subduing its rampaging energy, controlling its pulse. But now—now he let it tear loose.

The moment it was freed, the compressed needle of violet lightning shot through the air like a god-slayer, faster than sound, a streak of concentrated death. It flashed once and howled through the space between them like a vengeful star.

In that instant, before the Storm King’s spear could even graze Max, the needle reached him.

CRACK!

Storm King’s head vanished—gone. Not exploded. Not burned. Just erased in a single violet flash. His body halted in mid-motion, as if the strings holding him together had been snapped by the will of thunder itself.

The momentum of his charge crumbled, and his mighty spear, still wrapped in red lightning, fell from his hand with a dull thud.

And then, with eerie silence, his headless figure collapsed forward, crashing to the ground just before Max’s feet.

"I win... finally." Max whispered, his voice strained as exhaustion washed over him like a collapsing tide. His knees gave out and he let himself fall onto his back, landing hard against the fractured ground of the ruined island.

The black flames of his Flame Tyrant form faded like dying embers, his armor dissolving into mist. The golden-glowing scales that had coated his body during his Dragon Scales Transformation dimmed and vanished as well, leaving behind his normal self—battered, breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling with every ragged breath.

His body felt sore, his mind drained, and his core aching with the toll of the powers he had just wielded. But in his heart, a strange sense of fulfillment settled. He had done it. He had defeated the Storm King.

Just then, a subtle flicker caught his eye. Max turned his head and saw the headless body of the Storm King, still lying where it had fallen. But it was glowing—softly at first, in a deep crimson light that shimmered with a strange, sacred quality.

The glow pulsed slowly, like a living heartbeat, before growing brighter with every passing second.

Max sat up slowly, ignoring the ache in his back and shoulders, and stared at it.

"Is this the part where I will get the inheritance?" he muttered, a glint of curiosity and anticipation in his tired eyes.

The glow intensified, the body shining so bright that it was no longer possible to make out any features. And then, without warning, the Storm King’s body dissolved completely, transforming into a radiant beam of red lightning and pure light.

That beam shot straight toward Max, too fast for him to react, and struck his forehead with pinpoint precision.

Max’s eyes widened. He didn’t feel pain—but rather, a surge of heat and electricity rushed into him, flooding his senses with foreign energy. His body shuddered involuntarily as the knowledge, the power, the will of the Storm King poured into him like a river breaking through a dam.

Visions, sensations, battle memories, techniques, and the weight of an inheritance carried for who knows how many ages all entered him in a single moment.

The Storm King—his legacy, his power, his storm—had chosen Max as its new bearer.