Celestial Bloodline Chapter 967: Let’s end this I

For a moment, amidst the furious screams and piercing roars echoing around him, Kyle found himself kneeling in silence. He closed his eyes, feeling the wounds on his body mend and close. Then, with a soft click of his tongue against the roof of his mouth, he murmured to himself.

"Just two days... and you've driven me this far. Hah. Could this be because you devoured the Celestial Symbol that Nathaniel carried?"

The instant he regained a semblance of clarity, he pushed himself to his feet, his hand lowering from the now-healed wound on his chest as his gaze swept over the chaotic scene, pausing on each of the five bodies ensnared within the powerful symbols.

"Let's bring this to a close."

His voice was even as he vanished from his spot, reappearing instantly before the nearest struggling and screaming figure. He silently met the gaze of the bloodshot, crazed obsidian eyes.

This time, Kyle did not reach for the soul fragment residing within the body. Instead, he merely watched as the countless golden symbols binding the figure obeyed his silent command, burrowing into the flesh, forcefully extracting the soul fragment, and then presenting it to him.

Clenching his fingers around the fragment, Kyle sealed it within the waiting crystal. The body before him stiffened, then slumped lifelessly. A chilling aura emanated from Kyle, enveloping it until it disintegrated into a flurry of delicate snowflakes. Kyle then shifted his attention to the next body.

The remaining four pairs of crazed, dark eyes still glaring at him began to stream blood as Kyle positioned himself before another of Azazeal’s bodies.

His gaze remained utterly indifferent as the mystical array shifted once more at his unspoken decree, golden symbols surging forward to swiftly burrow into the captured, writhing body, extracting the soul fragment with brutal efficiency.

All around them, the dark expanse pulsed with a dazzling golden luminescence, an intricate web of symbols stretching out endlessly—a formation potent enough to encompass the entire Celestial realm.

Within that suffocating radiance, where even the fabric of space seemed to buckle and tear, only Kyle—the architect of such a formidable array, empowered by the very essence of his soul and his Celestial bloodline—remained completely untouched.

He understood that a severe price would be exacted once the array—comprising every symbol he had ever mastered, intricately woven into a web capable of ensnaring even a Celestial at the absolute End of their cultivation—was fully activated.

Yet, not for a single moment had he hesitated to unleash it, the instant he perceived that it had assumed the perfect configuration he desired.

Let the heavy price be damned.

In the grand scheme of things, what was the absolute worst that could transpire? Perhaps he would be weakened. So what? It was undeniably true—he had perpetually sought greater power. But he was not Nathaniel, who had readily sacrificed his integrity for ascended might. If he had forged his path to this present level through his own efforts, enduring every hardship along the way, then who could possibly claim he wouldn't be capable of repeating such a feat?

Ultimately, his arduous journey had been undertaken for a singular objective: to prevent Azazeal from returning, to thwart his promised destruction of the Universe they both originated from.

And now, at long last, he stood on the precipice of achieving that very goal. Yet, as the symbols relentlessly dragged forth the soul fragments from the surrounding bodies, a fleeting shadow of complex emotion flickered across his normally indifferent eyes.

Just then, he realized he had neglected to account for everything—how could he possibly overlook that his relentless pursuit of Azazeal had also been profoundly fueled by a burning desire for retribution—for all the profound humiliation and agonizing torment he had endured at Azazeal’s hands?

Why? He couldn’t precisely articulate the reason. Perhaps, after traversing such a vast distance, his sole desire had become to halt this man who had so utterly lost himself.

Not out of any sense of pity. Truly not. But from the same unyielding resolve that had consistently been the source of his strength and had propelled him this far on his journey.

In the end, only a single one of Azazeal’s bodies remained—serene and no longer in active struggle.

The bloodshot eyes remained fixed upon him, silent, as if issuing a silent dare to make a move. Surrounding Azazeal’s body, the darkness writhed and churned restlessly, appearing eager to abandon him and break free.

Kyle offered no hesitation.

This time, he extended his hand to extract the final soul fragment from within Azazeal’s body. However, the very instant his fingers drew near, the corners of the bloodshot eyes staring intently at him curved gradually upward. This unexpected sight caused Kyle to freeze for a mere heartbeat. Before he could even begin to react, the body before him suddenly detonated from within.

In the subsequent instant, a deafening explosion tore through the very fabric of space. It occurred with such abruptness, such startling immediacy, that Kyle, being the closest, was utterly unable to protect himself. The crystal containing the six meticulously collected soul fragments fractured and shattered under the immense force. The subsequent blast ripped through him, obliterating his physical form.

As Kyle’s consciousness dissolved into a hazy blur, losing all coherence, the colossal array disintegrated, scattering into countless golden particles—resembling fireflies drifting aimlessly through the vast void.

From the convergence point of the seven soul fragments, a dense, pitch-black mass of pure darkness erupted, voraciously swallowing the scattered fireflies, along with the ethereal silver soul that had escaped when Kyle’s body was annihilated.

Throughout their fierce confrontation, not a single extraneous word had been exchanged. Even as Kyle teetered precariously on the brink of utter annihilation, neither he nor Azazeal had uttered a sound—for when true powerhouses clash, there exists absolutely no room for trivial discourse.But now, observing as the ethereal silver soul was swallowed by darkness, Kyle finally became conscious of the hundreds of faint whispers screaming all around him, a chaotic jumble of voices contorting and twisting within the void. The initial words he managed to grasp were utterly chilling: Azazeal implored the encroaching darkness to consume his soul, to take it and do as it pleased—so that everything, all of it, could finally cease with him. Kyle’s soul shuddered violently as he let out a shout. No sound emerged, for his physical form was lost. Nevertheless, he struggled desperately against the encroaching darkness that sought to devour him. Abruptly, an unknown laughter reverberated through the oppressive darkness, laced with dark amusement as Kyle’s soul was tormented. It was as if something—distinct from Azazeal—was observing both of them endure suffering far more profound than mere death. Amidst this overwhelming chaos, as the seven soul fragments surrounding him began to slowly break apart, innumerable memories, buried deep within them, brushed past him. And he saw—he experienced firsthand every single event Azazeal had endured up to this point. It felt as though he were reliving each of those moments personally.