(Meanwhile, in the innermost ring of the Chakravyuh, Raymond’s POV)
Raymond could not help but curse the Cult Army and seven generations of their ancestors, for the moment the Cult Army cut through the Third Ring, the pressure bearing down on him surged inward with brutal intensity, multiplying in a single instant as the formation rebalanced without mercy.
For a brief moment, his vision vanished completely.
The world slipped away as though it had been torn out from behind his eyes, leaving in its stead only a blinding emptiness that made his stomach lurch and his soul scream beneath a weight that was far beyond what his flesh or will had ever been forced to endure before this moment.
"Oh fuck..." Raymond muttered, the words escaping instinctively as his consciousness struggled to steady itself.
When his sight returned, it did so unevenly, the surroundings snapping back into place in broken fragments as his knees wobbled dangerously beneath him, feet trembling as though they no longer belonged to him, while his arms shook at his sides despite every effort to hold them still.
*THRUMMM*
The core of the Chakravyuh strained violently, as even without sound, Raymond felt it clearly, a deep spiritual groan rippling through the formation as its divine geometry warped under the sudden loss of an entire ring, causing its burden to be redistributed inward with crushing force.
*GASP*
Raymond sucked in a sharp breath, his chest burning violently as he forced his focus outward and tried to assess whether everyone was suffering just like him, or was it him alone that was hit the worst?
’How are the others holding?’
He wondered, as Clarence was the first to catch his eye.
*Rattle*
*Wobble*
The Demi-God’s teeth were clenched so tightly that blood seeped from the corner of his mouth, his jaw trembling as his entire frame quivered under the strain, hands curled into fists so rigid that veins bulged along his forearms, his body fighting desperately to remain upright.
Clarence’s eyes were wide with raw strain, the last traces of confidence stripped away from his face as each breath that he took now came shallow and forced, shoulders hitching faintly as though even inhaling demanded conscious effort.
*Gulp*
Raymond swallowed hard as he shifted his gaze toward Terrence next, who unsurprisingly looked no better than the two of them.
With his eyes squeezed shut and his brow deeply furrowed, Terrence stood with a pained expression carved into his face, as sweat streamed down his cheeks, and color drained from his knuckles.
Miraculously, it seemed like his posture remained upright through sheer will alone, yet as seconds passed, even that resolve seemed to start to fray, his shoulders sagging fractionally with every passing second as he edged closer and closer to a full collapse.
"I— I can’t do this for too long"
He declared, as it became clear to Raymond, that the load they were currently enduring had already exceeded what most Demi-Gods were ever meant to bear, and hence it came as no surprise that all of them hovered on the brink of failure.
However, while the Demi-Gods struggled desperately, the Gods alongside them fared little better, as the strain finally began to surface in subtle but undeniable ways.
Deep frowns settled across their expressions, brows drawn tight as sweat pooled beneath their hairlines and slid slowly down temples that had not known exertion in centuries, their auras compressed inward and held taut, stretched across an invisible threshold that felt perilously close to snapping.
*Pant*
*Heavy exhale*
Their breathing had grown heavier now, their panting loud and audible, as many even started to grit their teeth to remain standing firm.
The collapse of the Third Ring had changed everything.
The pressure that had once been diffused across layers of mortals and Transcendents now slammed directly into the core, stacking inward relentlessly as the Chakravyuh demanded compensation for what had been lost.
Raymond felt it in his soul.
The extreme load of trying to hold up a formation that cut off the fourth dimension from the third.
However, the longer he tried to hold on to it, the more it seemed to rebel now, as though something unseen pressed down upon his very existence, threatening to grind him apart if he faltered for even a moment.
"I can’t hold on to this much longer either," Raymond said at last, his voice strained despite his effort to keep it steady, legs shaking harder as he subtly adjusted his stance to avoid collapsing outright.
"I request permission to redirect part of the pressure outward toward the Fourth Ring."
He said, as absolute silence followed.
The Great Clan Gods exchanged uneasy glances, tension tightening the space between them as calculation and reluctance warred behind their eyes, each of them understanding precisely what that request entailed.
Redirecting the pressure would buy those manning the core some breathing room, however, it would also place a catastrophic burden upon the Monarchs holding the Fourth Ring.
*HUFF—*
Clarence let out a ragged breath beside Raymond, his shoulders hitching as he fought to remain conscious, while Terrence’s breathing grew harsher, the strain pushing him ever closer to his limits.
They were running out of time.
And noticing this, it was Mu Shen that finally spoke.
"Do it," he said calmly, his voice steady as his eyes remained fixed forward, his hands unmoving despite the sweat soaking his palms, as the second he said those words, Raymond did not hesitate any longer.
*Push*
Closing his eyes briefly, he braced himself and began rerouting the crushing pressure outward, fully aware that whatever awaited the Fourth Ring next would be beyond what any mortal force was ever meant to endure.
’Apologies for this inconvenience lads. But it’s about time you start to pull your weight around here....’
He thought, as a part of the crushing weight finally lifted from his soul, allowing him to draw a full breath again, as the unbearable pressure receded just enough to remind him what relief felt like, however fleeting and fragile it might be.