Chapter 153: Stone Well

BOOM!

A deafening sound reverberated through the throne room, shaking its golden walls and dislodging flecks of radiant petals from the ceiling.

Abel barely had time to steady himself as the Flower Princess’s eyes snapped open, unleashing an intoxicating, oppressive wave of power. Her gaze glowed with an otherworldly brilliance, her irises blooming into intricate floral patterns that seemed to pulse in rhythm with her immense energy.

Time slowed as her gaze swept the room, settling first on Ike Murman.

The once-proud patriarch stood frozen, his face twisted in a mix of awe and terror. But awe quickly turned to horror as the spirit’s pink eyes locked onto his.

The room seemed to hold its breath—then, with a sickening crack, Ike’s head burst like an overripe fruit.

Blood sprayed across the floor, staining the intricate floral carvings and leaving a grotesque testament to the overwhelming power of the spirit.

Abel staggered back, his heart pounding like a drum. I can’t—there’s no way—this is beyond me. Despite his newfound strength as a Rank 2 Apostle, the sheer disparity between his power and hers was staggering. Her presence alone felt like it could unmake him.

The Flower Princess moved, her translucent, petal-like form vibrating subtly with an ethereal hum. Her entire body radiated a delicate yet terrifying beauty—her hair, composed of countless shimmering petals, flowed as if carried by an unseen wind. Every movement she made was deliberate, imbued with the grace of an ancient ruler, the true sovereign of this dimension.

She turned her attention to Mr. Fifth, who cowered near his father’s lifeless corpse. His youthful arrogance had dissolved into raw terror, his hands trembling as he gripped the axe he’d wielded mere moments ago. He was no longer a Murman heir with grand ambitions—he was a boy staring into the face of his own death.

The spirit tilted her head, murmuring in a soft, melodic tone.

Her language was incomprehensible, a sequence of whispers and floral tones that seemed to bypass the ears and resonate directly in the mind. Abel couldn’t understand the words, but he felt their weight. Judgment. Authority. Finality.

Then, without warning, she reached out and caressed Mr. Fifth’s hair with a tenderness that made the scene all the more horrifying.

The boy whimpered but didn’t dare move. Her glowing hand paused at his neck, her delicate fingers brushing against the golden necklace he wore.

With a single motion, her fingers tightened around the necklace. It shattered like glass, the fragments erupting into a burst of dazzling light.

The resulting shockwave sent a ripple of force through the room, and with it, Mr. Fifth’s neck snapped violently. His lifeless body crumpled to the floor, joining his father in the growing pool of blood.

Abel’s breath hitched, his chest tightening. This isn’t a fight. This is a massacre.

The Flower Princess turned slightly, her glowing eyes scanning the room. Abel felt the weight of her gaze even before it landed on him.

His head pounded, his vision blurred, and his entire body screamed in protest. Despite the overwhelming pressure crushing him, Abel’s instincts kicked in. He turned and ran, his boots echoing loudly against the marble floor as he fled.

His heart pounded in his ears, his mind racing with fragmented thoughts. She’s not something I can fight. I can’t even look at her without feeling like my soul is being ripped apart. What the hell did the Murmans unleash?

The sweet, floral scent that had filled the throne room was now suffocating, mingling with the metallic tang of blood. Abel pushed forward, every nerve in his body telling him to escape.

Behind him, the Flower Princess didn’t pursue. Her hum filled the room, echoing with a sound that was both haunting and serene.

Abel didn’t dare glance back, but he could feel her presence as if it were engraved into the fabric of his soul. This wasn’t just power. This was dominion.

Abel sprinted down the gleaming marble halls, his footsteps echoing off the golden-trimmed walls. Every fiber of his being screamed to escape, his mind racing as he tried to piece together a plan. There’s no way out of this. She’s too strong.

The sweet floral scent lingered heavily in the air, clinging to him like a shroud as he pushed forward.

But it was futile. As he rounded a corner, he skidded to a stop, his breath catching in his throat.

There she was. Floating gracefully above him, her translucent, petal-like body glowing with a radiant pink hue. Her halo shimmered like an ancient crown, its brilliance outshining the gems embedded in the walls. Her eyes, blooming flowers of light, gazed down at him with a mixture of curiosity and terrifying authority. It was as though she could see not only him but everything he had ever been and ever would be.

Abel gritted his teeth, refusing to let despair consume him. With a sharp inhale, he activated his second rune, calling upon the power of the World of the Rosette Celestial.

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The air around him crackled with energy as thorny vines erupted from the floor, weaving an intricate domain of starry petals and celestial thorns. The petals floated like sentinels, each one charged with cosmic energy, ready to defend him.

The Flower Princess descended, her movements slow and deliberate.

As she stepped into the thorny field, Abel’s confidence wavered. The thorns lashed out at her, their starry tips crackling with power, but she walked through them unbothered.

The petals and thorns, meant to pierce and immobilize, disintegrated on contact. One by one, the thorns shattered under her ethereal steps, their energy snuffed out as though they were no more than fragile glass.

Abel staggered backward, coughing violently as blood splattered from his lips. The breaking of his domain sent a backlash through his body once more, each thorn destroyed like a blow to his spirit. This isn’t real, he thought, his vision blurring from the sheer force of her presence, as his consciousness was almost gone. How can something like her exist?

Desperate, Abel raised his trembling hands, attempting to summon the miniature stars from his fingertips.

His fingertips glowed with brilliant intensity, ready to launch a barrage of destruction. But before he could release them, the Flower Princess moved—too fast for him to react.

Her hand, glowing with a soft pink light, grasped his wrist. Pain erupted through his arm as her grip tightened, her delicate fingers crushing his bones as if they were twigs. Abel screamed in agony, the stars dissipating into nothingness as his concentration shattered.

The Princess tilted her head, her glowing eyes locking onto his as though peering into the deepest corners of his soul.

Her expression was unreadable, but her gaze carried a weight that made Abel’s very existence feel insignificant.

Through the searing pain, Abel fumbled into his robe, his fingers closing around the hilt of his knife. He swung it with all the strength he could muster, aiming for her radiant face. But she moved effortlessly, tilting her head to the side to avoid the strike.

Before he could react, she held the broken wrist even tighter and lifted him off of the ground..

With a sickening crack, she twisted and hurled him into the nearest wall.

Abel’s body collided with the marble with brutal force, the impact shattering his ribs and leaving a jagged crack in the pristine surface. He crumpled to the ground, blood pooling beneath him as he struggled to breathe. His vision swam, the edges darkening as consciousness threatened to slip away.

The Flower Princess floated closer, her pink halo glowing brighter, casting an eerie light over the room.

Abel could barely lift his head, his body broken and battered. His heart pounded in his chest, not from adrenaline but from the suffocating realization that he couldn’t win. He was outmatched in every conceivable way.

So this is it, he thought bitterly. After everything I’ve done, it all ends here. All my breakthroughs, all my power—none of it means anything.

A wave of despair washed over him as he closed his eyes, waiting for the final blow. For the first time, Abel, felt utterly helpless.

The Flower Princess loomed over Abel, her glowing eyes brimming with an unearthly, predatory intensity. Her translucent, petal-like form vibrated faintly, a predator savoring the moment before the kill.

Abel’s broken body refused to move, his breath ragged and shallow as he stared up at her. The pain was unbearable, his mind teetering on the edge of darkness.

As her slender fingers reached for him, poised to deliver the final blow, the entire castle trembled violently. The walls groaned under the pressure, and Abel’s badge, still tucked inside his robe, began to vibrate furiously. A low hum filled the air, building into a deafening crescendo.

The Flower Princess froze, her gaze snapping downward toward Abel’s chest. Her serene expression twisted into something that could only be described as fear—a stark contrast to the overwhelming power she had displayed moments before.

The badge, glowing with an intense aura, shot out from Abel’s robe like a comet. It hovered in the air for a brief moment, spinning wildly as if caught in a whirlwind of energy.

The light emanating from it grew brighter and brighter until it was nearly blinding. Then, with a thunderous crack, it plummeted to the ground a meter away, embedding itself into the marble floor.

The ground beneath the badge began to shift and warp, the pristine white marble turning to rough, gray stone. The transformation spread outward in ripples, and within moments, a structure began to materialize. Blocks of stone rose from the ground, stacking themselves in an intricate pattern until a well emerged, ancient and imposing.

The Flower Princess took a cautious step back, her once-untouchable demeanor shattered. Her luminous pink eyes betrayed a rare and primal emotion: fear.

Abel, barely clinging to consciousness, watched in a daze as the impossible unfolded before him.

A figure began to rise from the well, shrouded in a haze of dust and stone particles. As the figure ascended, the room was suffused with an aura of raw power and authority.

Abel’s foggy mind struggled to piece together the scene, but recognition flickered in his eyes.

The crown of stone, the flowing robes adorned with the insignia of his tower—it was unmistakably the Master of the Stone Tower.

The Tower Master stepped forward, his gaze sweeping over the room. His eyes lingered on the Flower Princess, widening slightly in what could only be described as awe. "Magnificent," he murmured, his voice filled with reverence. "To think such a treasure has been slumbering here all this time."

He turned his gaze to Abel, who lay crumpled on the floor like a broken doll.

His expression shifted, a mix of approval and concern. "Stargazer," he said, addressing Abel by the title that marked his unique abilities. "You have no idea how much you’ve done for Bask with this discovery. Your contribution will not go unnoticed."

Abel tried to respond, but his voice failed him. His vision blurred as his body betrayed him, pulling him closer to the abyss of unconsciousness.

The Flower Princess, meanwhile, began to back away, her wings vibrating rapidly. She turned, attempting to flee, her translucent form flickering like a candle in the wind. But the Tower Master was faster.

With a fluid motion, he pulled a stone gourd from within his robes. The object radiated a strange, ancient energy, its surface etched with intricate symbols that grew in a pattern that was almost hypnotizing.

The Tower Master muttered an incantation, and the gourd’s mouth opened wide, unleashing a vortex of energy.

The air itself seemed to twist and churn as the gourd pulled at the Flower Princess with an irresistible force. She screamed—a sound that was less of a noise and more of a piercing vibration, reverberating through the room and into the depths of Abel’s soul.

The Flower Princess resisted, her wings flapping desperately as she clawed at the air, but it was no use.

Inch by inch, she was drawn into the magical gourd, her form dissolving into a stream of glowing pink light. As the last remnants of her presence were consumed, the gourd sealed itself with a resounding clang, leaving the room eerily silent.

The Tower Master exhaled, clutching the gourd tightly as he turned back to Abel. "You’ve done more than you realize, Stargazer," he said softly. Reaching into his robes, he retrieved a small, glowing crystal and placed it gently into Abel’s mouth. "Rest now, we'll talk about your rewards later."

As the crystal dissolved, warmth spread through Abel’s body, dulling the pain and pulling him into the embrace of unconsciousness.

The last thing he saw was the Tower Master standing tall, a beacon of authority in the chaos before the world faded to black.