HP: god of potions

Chapter 68

Stormblade glanced at Sebastian, his expression turning grim. "Finally, he finished the summoning—" But before he could finish his sentence, Gray's claws plunged into his chest. Gray, now partially transformed into his werelion form, grinned savagely. "I haven't made this form permanent yet, so consuming potions mid-fight is a hassle. But I was right. It does enhance my strength." Stormblade's eyes widened in shock as Gray's star-filled energy surged, accompanied by freezing cold. The explosion that followed was immense, obliterating Gray's entire arm and Stormblade's entire left side of his chest. Stormblade staggered, blood pouring from his wounds, before falling backward.

Gray turned his attention to Sebastian, who lay lifeless on the ground. Above him, black smoke coalesced into a towering figure—a smaller version of Trigon. The demonic entity surveyed the carnage before its burning gaze settled on Gray. "You do possess some strength," Trigon rumbled. "Perhaps that is why my daughter chose you." Floating ominously above the ground, Trigon exuded an aura of unparalleled menace. Gray stood amidst the destruction, unyielding, as he met the demon's gaze and sighed.

"Look, what's your deal? What do you want with Rachel?" Gray asked. Trigon regarded him for a moment before replying in a dismissive tone, as though addressing a lesser being. "That is none of your business, but since my daughter seems to value you, you should at least know this much." He floated closer to Gray. "I am Trigon the Terrible, a being matched by no other. I have existed since before the dawn of men. I have conquered millions of worlds from countless universes, and I will continue to do so—with my progeny by my side." Gray furrowed his brow at the grand declaration and muttered, "Ah, so you're just mad. Well, either way."

Without hesitation, Gray crouched low before leaping toward Trigon mid-air. "You can't continue to bother Rachel!" he shouted, fist raised to strike. Trigon simply waved his hand, and an unseen force slammed Gray down with a thunderous crash. The earth beneath him fractured, sending tremors across the battlefield. Gray sprang back to his feet, his body regenerating instantly, and charged once more. What followed was a brutal, one-sided fight. Each time Gray launched an attack—fists capable of delivering 100-ton blows, freezing strikes imbued with unimaginable cold, or star blasts that obliterated entire sections of the terrain—Trigon swatted him aside like a fly.

Trigon's abilities far surpassed Gray's. He manipulated the battlefield with telekinesis, flinging debris as weapons, projecting fiery blasts that scorched the earth, and summoning illusions to distract and disorient Gray. Despite being immune to the mental effects, Gray found himself battered by Trigon's unrelenting power. Trigon's strikes cratered the ground, his flames melted stone, and his mere presence radiated oppressive heat. Yet every time Gray's body was smashed, burned, or torn apart, he regenerated and stood back up, refusing to yield.

Each movement sent jolts of pain radiating through his battered form, yet his gaze remained fixed on the towering demonic figure before him. Trigon loomed over him, a colossus of malice and power, his eyes burning with the eldritch light of boundless chaos. Despite the torment he endured, Grey's eyes burned with defiance. He clenched his fists, steadying himself, his battered figure standing tall.

Trigon's deep, resonant voice carried both contempt and amusement. "Hmph, truly a bothersome insect," he said, his expression briefly darkening. Then a cruel smile spread across his monstrous face. "But an insect nonetheless."

Trigon's tone grew serious, the atmosphere crackling with unrestrained malevolence. With a mere gesture of his hand, the fabric of reality warped around Grey. From the twisting chaos, colossal chains and an anchor forged from pure malevolent energy materialized, each link weighing more than a mountain. The chains shot toward Grey with devastating force, the ground fracturing beneath their sheer weight.

Grey tried to evade, his enhanced body reacting faster than most humans could dream. But the sheer speed and size of the constructs overwhelmed even his heightened agility. The chains coiled around him like serpents, pinning him to the ground with a resounding crash. The anchor slammed down, sending shockwaves rippling outward, leaving him immobilized beneath the crushing weight of Trigon's magic.

"It's futile, human," Trigon sneered, stepping closer, his towering form casting a shadow that seemed to swallow the very light. "You will perish, just like countless others before you have. But…" He paused, a sinister grin spreading as he loomed over Grey. "You will make a nice gift for my daughter."

Through the crushing force and searing pain, Grey forced a grin, blood staining his teeth. "Of course, I'll make a nice gift for your daughter," he rasped, his voice strained but unyielding. "But the gift will have to come from me."

Summoning every ounce of his strength, Grey activated the Veilbreaker Elixir's effect. A surge of anti-magic energy exploded outward in a brilliant pulse, nullifying the chaos magic binding him. The chains and anchor disintegrated into shimmering fragments of unreality, fading as quickly as they had appeared.

Trigon raised a brow, momentarily intrigued. "Hm, so you do indeed possess some ability," he mused, his tone almost curious. But his amusement quickly turned to cold resolve as he raised a clawed hand. "No matter."

The air itself seemed to buckle as Trigon released a pulse of pure chaos magic, infused with his indomitable will. The energy surged toward Grey, not merely to destroy him but to unmake him on a fundamental level. The chaos magic sought to warp his very essence, to strip away his identity and replace it with pure subjugation.

Grey's status panel appeared unbidden before him—a glowing manifestation of his being though strangely, it did not belong to this timeline, it glitched and flickered as the chaos magic clashed with his existence. And then, for the first time, something strange occurred.

From the depths of Grey's being, from the system a presence emerged—not one of power, but of concept. It was a will—vast, boundless, and terrifying in its sheer inevitability. The will embodied change itself, the inexorable force that drives the cosmos forward. For a brief, eternal moment, Trigon faltered. That will brushed against his existence, dissecting him down to his very core.