The Void Cult base sprawled across the landscape, a small city in itself, housing over 470,000 people. The Saints were wreaking havoc on the outer edges, dismantling defenses and structures with divine precision, but they hadn’t fully penetrated the heart of the base yet. Explosions and the sounds of battle echoed in the distance, but the base’s true strength had yet to be tested.
At the front entrance, where Ralak stood alone, the few guards who remained scrambled in panic. One guard, pale and trembling, shouted desperately, “Reinforcements are on their way! We have numbers—”
But Ralak remained unmoved, his cold eyes staring them down as if their words were inconsequential. “It doesn’t matter,” he said, his voice rumbling like distant thunder. “You were already foolish enough to leave only fifty of you to protect this gate.”
He began walking forward, each step sending tremors through the ground. The guards collapsed, unable to stand, as if the very air around them had become impossibly heavy. They tried to shout, to move, but their bodies were pinned to the earth, limbs trembling under the increasing weight of the invisible force.
“You know,” Ralak began, his tone unnervingly calm, “my god, the creator of this world, holds unparalleled control over gravity. And in his wisdom, he bestowed this same gift upon me.”
Ralak extended his hand, his fingers slowly curling into a fist. The pressure around the guards intensified, their bodies sinking deeper into the dirt. The weight grew heavier, crushing the air from their lungs, and the ground beneath them began to crack.
“This is the same gift I will use to end your lives.”
With a final twist of his hand, Ralak increased the gravity tenfold. The guards screamed, but it was short-lived. Their bones shattered like glass under the immense pressure, their bodies collapsing into themselves, reduced to nothing but twisted puddles of blood and flesh. The sight was both horrifying and awe-inspiring, a testament to the unstoppable power of the Primordial God.
The front gate, once guarded by men who believed science could stand against divine might, was now littered with nothing but remains. And Ralak stood victorious, his gaze now set on the rest of the base.
As Ralak advanced, his power over gravity stretched outward, effortlessly crushing the front gate of the Void Cult’s massive base. The gate, once a symbol of security, crumbled like paper under the immense force, and everything in Ralak’s path—trees, stones, and buildings—was flattened as if the earth itself was bowing to his will.
Hundreds of cult followers, desperate to protect their home, charged toward him. Their shouts of defiance echoed through the air, and they raised their weapons, firing in a chaotic hail of bullets. But Ralak barely glanced at them, his expression unreadable.
"Pointless," he muttered, his voice laced with disdain.
With a flick of his wrist, he sent his arm forward, then dropped it swiftly. The gravity around the incoming bullets intensified, and the projectiles stopped mid-air, plummeting to the ground like pebbles. The sheer force of the gravity crushed the bullets into the dirt, leaving nothing but small craters where they had landed.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
The sight was horrifying. Those at the front who had fired looked in disbelief, while the followers in the back, witnessing this display of unstoppable power, turned to flee in panic. But as they tried to run, they found their legs unable to move. The very air around them seemed to have thickened, locking their bodies in place. They looked back in terror, realizing the futility of their efforts.
"Now, where do non-believers think you're going?" Ralak’s voice was low but carried across the field like a death sentence.
Ralak dropped the gravity on the cultists in an instant, and the weight of his power crushed hundreds of them where they stood. Their bodies crumpled and flattened, reduced to nothing more than lifeless remains. The few who were still alive trembled in sheer terror, unable to move, paralyzed by the same force that had just decimated their comrades. Their minds raced, but they knew their end was coming.
Ralak advanced slowly, the ground trembling beneath his feet, each step shaking the earth with his immense control over gravity. His cold gaze swept over the survivors, and his hands rested calmly behind his back, as though he were taking a stroll through a quiet garden instead of the battlefield. He hovered slightly above the ground now, his power lifting him effortlessly into the air, the scene around him one of complete devastation.
"You all lived without fear of my lord," Ralak’s voice echoed, low and commanding, "and worse—without belief in the one true god."
The surviving cultists, those who could still muster the strength to look up, saw him rising into the air, a being above them in more than just stature. He floated higher, his presence looming like a dark cloud of judgment over the broken remnants of the Void Cult.
"I'll show you the power of God today." His words were a chilling promise, as the gravity in the area around the cultists intensified even further, causing the very air to ripple under the weight of his control.
The remaining followers watched in horror, knowing there was no escape. The cult’s disbelief in higher powers, in gods, had carried them this far. But now, as Ralak hung above them like a vengeful deity, they realized the truth too late.
"ALL MY SAINTS, LEAVE THE BASE!"
Ralak’s command echoed across the entire city, his voice cutting through the chaos with divine authority. Without hesitation, the Saints obeyed, retreating from their positions and rising into the air to join him. Though they lacked Ralak’s full mastery over gravity, the Saints could momentarily manipulate it enough to ascend skyward, their figures drifting toward him like specters in the twilight.
Ralak, still hovering above the ground, lifted his hand into the sky. His control spread outward, and in moments, the landscape around the Void Cult's base began to tremble. Trees uprooted, boulders cracked from the earth, and debris of all kinds began to levitate. The air became thick with rubble, and within it, even the remaining followers of the Void Cult were drawn upward, helpless against the immense gravitational pull.
From the ground, the thousands of cultists who remained stared in sheer disbelief, their faces contorted with terror. The sky above them was filled with a swirling vortex of trees, rocks, and their own people, all lifted impossibly into the air by the very force they had once denied.
Ralak’s gaze swept over them, cold and unwavering. "Your end has come," he declared, his voice resonating with finality. "Hope and pray that you find salvation in death, for there is no salvation left in this world."
With a swift motion, Ralak brought his hand down. Everything he had lifted into the air—trees, boulders, rubble, and the bodies of the cultists—came crashing down with devastating force. The sound of impact was deafening, the earth shuddering under the weight of the destruction. Dust and debris exploded outward, filling the air, and in an instant, the Void Cult’s base was nothing more than a smoldering ruin, reduced to nothing by the overwhelming power of the Primordial God's will.
Ralak floated above the carnage, his expression unmoved. This was the fate of those who dared defy the true god.