Chapter 247: Fight against Sylphira

Chapter 247 – Fight against Sylphira

The Cursed of Strength.

A simple title... yet its implications were vast and terrifying.

It was a title that, at first glance, seemed almost absurd—but in truth, it was deadly. Because once given, the bearer of this title would slowly lose power every single time they used their strength.

Every punch. Every strike. Every movement fueled by force.

It would drain them.

Piece by piece. Until eventually... they wouldn’t even have the strength to raise a single finger.

And the most dreadful, the most twisted part of this title?

It couldn’t be undone. It couldn’t be blocked. It couldn’t be resisted.

Once received, it was permanent.

So when Noah uttered the name, when he gave them the title, they felt it.

They felt the weight of it embed itself into their very being, knowledge of it flooding their minds like a curse.

But... nothing changed.

Because it wasn’t them in control.

They were puppets.

And the one pulling the strings, Sylphira, didn’t yet understand what had just happened, her eyes darting through the battlefield, her expression filled with questions she hadn’t even fully formed.

But Noah gave her no time to think.

Because the moment the title was given, space itself began to wrap around him—folding like threads of silk being gathered by a master weaver.

Time itself froze.

One step. That was all it took. Just one step,

And Noah was in front of Sylphira.

Unsurprisingly, she wasn’t affected by the time-lock. But that wasn’t Noah’s goal.

Not this time.

His right side twisted and morphed, turning into a volatile fusion of black ice and celestial white fire, unstable and godly all at once.

And above them the sky cracked.

Millions of weapons appeared—blades, spears, hammers, constructs of all kind—each forged from the fusion of purple lightning and pure nothingness.

And they were everywhere.

They filled every inch of Sylphira’s domain, raining down like the wrath of a divine executioner.

The air thickened. Electric. Deadly. Purple lightning danced across the sky, weaving between the falling weapons. To be touched by one... was death. To even look too long at them?

Madness.

And wrapped around it all was that whisper of void, of erasure—of something that didn’t kill you, but removed you from existence.

The puppets looked up.

Even the mundanes. Even the ones too dumb to think. They stared.

Because above them wasn’t war—it was vengeance.

And in that moment... it truly did look like a demon had come to collect.

But Noah didn’t care about any of that.

Because while all hell broke loose around them, he punched.

Straight into Sylphira’s face.

BAAAM!

She didn’t take it.

A puppet intercepted the strike—but Noah didn’t stop just like expected.

His left hand shifted, this time becoming a swirling storm of soul power and raw emotion.

He punched again. And again. And again.

Noah unleashed everything. Every skill, every technique, every ounce of combat he had mastered, and it all flowed into this vicious, hand-to-hand brawl that cracked the realm apart.

Everywhere the weapons fell became instant death zones, zones ruled by lightning and void, by destruction and silence.

Cries echoed. Pleas. Screams.

Some dropped to their knees, begging. Ready to betray Sylphira without hesitation.

Others cursed, asking what they had done to deserve such wrath.

But Noah didn’t hear them.

He was locked in, fully locked in, his mind focused on the enemy in front of him. And every time he struck, the space around him fractured. Time meant nothing. The world stuttered under the pressure of his movements.

The puppets surrounded him.

They struck from all sides.

Noah blocked with ice, countered with flame, severed with sword, devoured with void. Each skill carried a fragment of his will, and even as he moved on, those fragments would strike again before dissipating.

And Sylphira kept trying. Again and again, her will pierced toward his mind, trying to make him hers.

But he was ready.

Every attempt met a wall.

His mind was a fortress, reinforced by void, fire, ice, celestial shields, soul seals, and his ever-watchful Severing Sword. No matter what she tried—he stood firm.

Their fight transcended speed. Billions of strikes in a nanosecond. Their fists created shockwaves that unraveled space, warped gravity, tore through causality.

Noah was struggling.

He was thrown, slammed, torn. His silver-white clothes shredded. His blood spilled onto ground that no longer felt real.

But he always healed.

He always stood back up.

His body kept shifting—affinity to affinity, phase to phase—keeping his style unpredictable, his movements chaotic, his strikes impossible to read.

Around him, space froze, ignited, or ceased to exist entirely.

And every time the formless being tried to rewind time—

It failed.

Because Noah was using the Severing Sword not to attack people...

But to cut through the concept of time itself.

He fought on all fronts. He defended his body. He maintained his mind. He severed time. He directed death.

And all of it, with a wild smile carved across his face.

He was enjoying himself.

Even when a puppet finally landed a lucky strike, poisoning him, halting his regeneration, Noah just kept going.

Wounds bloomed across his body. Blood streamed freely.

But he didn’t stop.

The battle raged on. The sky turned bright red, swirling with ominous energy.

And Sylphira, for all her power, for all her pride—began to notice.

Her puppets were weakening.

Their strikes weren’t hitting as hard.

Their movement slowed.

She didn’t understand at first, still too locked in combat to think clearly. But her will was strong. Her mind quick.

And eventually, she connected the dots.

The title.

Her eyes widened, her entire expression shifting, as she turned toward Noah with new eyes. Because naming things...?

That kind of power... she had never seen it before.

It was rare for Sylphira to be surprised.

But now, she was thrilled.

Excited.

Hungry.

And so—

"Domain: The Realm of Puppet."

The words dropped like thunder.

And in that instant, the entire previous domain vanished.

Replaced.

They now stood within a reality sculpted from constructs—some humanoid, some beastly, some mechanical, others incomprehensible.

But all of them... were puppets.

Even the space itself. Even the time. Even the very air.

All of it was hers. All of it obeyed.

A world where even a breath could betray you. Where your heartbeat might be commanded to stop.

Noah looked around.

Still poisoned. Still bleeding.

And then,

He smiled crookedly.

"...Let me show mine too."

His voice cracked, blood in his throat.

Then—

"The Genesis."

And in a heartbeat,

Everything was overwritten.

—End of Chapter 247—