The Martial God: Demonic Cultivator in a World of Magic [Isekai LitRPG]

The once peaceful and lush battlefield below had transformed into a chaotic tangle of uprooted trees, shattered earth, and swirling energies. The air was heavy with the smell of blood, earth, and something far more ancient—something primal.

Vargathrian floated in front of Azrath while stemming with the power of nature. The light of the moon caused her white fur to sparkle red, and her eyes blazed with a fierce glow that reflected the age-old spirit of the wilds under her guardianship.

The Warden of the Wilds was a Unique Class that made her the champion of Luphoran, the God of Beasts, Wilds, and the Untamed. Her very existence was intertwined with the land she defended, transforming her into a living fortress with the capacity to safeguard any city.

Not that the Vampiric Father was any less of a threat. His aura, deep like a thick, blood-red miasma, swirled around him, pulsating with the twisted energy of his god, Zal’tharok, the God of Flesh, Blood, and Decay. 

The Vampiric Father was that God’s Blood Priest, a master of the forbidden arts, and his eyes gleamed with malevolent amusement as he faced Vargathrian. The shock of seeing her in full strength earlier had quickly passed, replaced by a deep, cruel enjoyment at the prospect of breaking her once and for all. He was grinning.

"You think you can stand against me, Vargathrian?" Azrath's voice was an insult, full of arrogance.

Vargathrian's gaze remained steady and unwavering. "Let's see if I can or not, one last time."

Then all hell broke loose.

Azrath raised his palm with a malicious sneer, causing a sequence of blood-red sigils to ignite around him. He smirked. Each symbol pulsated with a dark energy, their twisted shapes writhing like living things as they drew upon the life force in the air. 

As a Blood Priest, Azrath’s mastery over blood was unparalleled—his power to manipulate life’s very essence had twisted it into something vile and destructive. The sigils grew larger, their crimson light going nearly black as they merged into a gigantic orb of pure, demonic rage. With a throbbing energy and a threat of ultimate annihilation, the sphere crossed his extended hand.

Fearing for her safety, Vargathrian summoned the savage powers she had long defended. The power of the earth, of the Planet Vear'thia. The ground quaked below her, tearing open to expose ancient, twisted roots. Each wisp was encased in sparkling, silver-colored bark and pulsed with the life force of the earth, intensifying her apprehension.

These roots arched upwards, creating a formidable enclosure around her, and each root shimmered like countless moons.

Azrath’s blood sphere began to spin, faster and faster, until it was a blur of crimson energy. With a low, guttural chant, he hurled the sphere toward Vargathrian. The orb shrieked as it cut through the air, tearing apart the very fabric of reality with its dark intent.

Vargathrian didn’t flinch. With a mighty roar, she slammed her paws into the earth, invoking her ancient bloodline. 

[Lunar Rebirth: Cradle of the Silver Beast!] 

She screamed, her voice echoing with the fury of a thousand storms. The roots entwined around her, creating a shield that gleamed with a brilliant light. The moonlight grew stronger, enveloping the entire battlefield in a silvery radiance as the roots throbbed in unison with her pulse. 

The blood sphere smashed into the shield, and for a fleeting instant, there was quiet. Then, the sky was ripped apart by a devastating blast. Shards of devastation rained down on the city, liquefying the earth and claiming the lives of those who could not escape.

The impact surged through the air, ripping the ground and shaking the heavens. The roots stood strong; they were durable and magically enhanced, but the dark magic's immense power began to taint them, distorting their pure essence into something… sinister. The once radiant silver bark turned black, and the roots began to wither. 

Vargathrian growled, unwilling to give up. She refused to let Azrath's darkness engulf the world she had vowed to defend—the world where her tribe lived. Due to her injuries, she could not rely on her physical skills and strength; otherwise, things would have been easier…! But now, she could only rely on her magical powers. 

Since that was the case, she decided to go all out from now on. Saving her life wasn't a priority right now. She called for the winds, and they responded with a fierce howl.

[Zephyr’s Embrace: Winds of the Eternal Forest!]

The winds swirled around her, carrying the scent of ancient trees and the power to cause a typhoon. They wrapped around the corrupted roots, cleansing them with their touch, and then by her command, they surged forward, slamming into Azrath’s blood magic with the force of a hurricane.

His eyes narrowed as the winds tore through his blood sphere, dissipating it in a flash of crimson mist. He snickered, his hands once again crackling with dark energy. 

He clapped his hands together—

[Sanguine Dominion: Requiem of the Fallen Bloodlines.]

—and the sky above them darkened as a storm of blood-red lightning bolts rained down, the strikes aimed to obliterate the wolf deity. But Vargathrian stood her ground, her fur rippling with the energy of the storm, as she too unleashed a Skill.

[Aegis of the Ancient Wilds: Shield of the Primordial Grove.] 

At her call, the earth underneath her sprang to life. The tall, weathered trees surrounded her and created an impenetrable barrier, their trunks thicker than city walls. The powerful ancient magic coursing through their roots rendered the red lightning bolts powerless.

The lightning rained down on the defense, and rather than damaging it, it damaged the world instead. The clash of the two powerhouses unleashed devastating explosions with every resounding blow. Lockdarn below grew ever more unstable as their battles led to buildings collapsing, streets fracturing, and city walls crumbling. 

Thanks to the corruption from Azrath's blood magic, the once lush battlefield below was now a desolate wasteland of devastation. The Matriarch’s aura helped, but not by much.

Then, she felt it.

Something very wrong.

Something bad within her body. Not good. She panicked in her head. She had to move quickly because time was short. She mustered all her remaining might in order to put a stop to this. 

“[Gaia’s Final Embrace: Wrath of the Verdant Titan!]” The burden of decades of watchfulness hung heavy in her voice as it reverberated over the battlefield. 

The earth trembled beneath her, and from its depths emerged an enormous being—a living colossus of roots and stone, adorned with vibrant moss and blooming flowers pulsing with vitality. A Titan. 

The Verdant Titan roared, its deafening cry rattling Lockdarn’s stone walls as it thundered toward Azrath, obliterating the city in its path.

A surge of pain ripped through her chest as Vargathrian ordered it to continue. It was hard to control the thing. Her vision blurred… as the potion she had ingested earlier began to give out, causing her to gasp. 

Her perfect fur turned a deep crimson hue as she furiously coughed and spat blood. She felt a deep, grinding agony that weakened her with each passing second. The pain was intense, and the suffering was intolerable.

As he observed her stumble, Azrath's eyes widened before beaming with pride. The sound of his icy, hollow laughter resounded throughout the battlefield. "Oh, out of your tricks, are you?"

Because her weak body couldn't handle the strain of her ultimate attack, Vargathrian's knees crumbled. As its connection to Vargathrian weakened, the Verdant Titan tripped.

The more the shadows drew in, her heart sank because she knew she could do nothing to stop the approaching darkness. The victory she had fought so bravely for and the hope of her people were both dwindling.

The last thing she heard was Azrath’s triumphant roar, echoing through the battlefield as the Verdant Titan crumbled to the ground, raining heavy rocks over half the city, leaving it ragged. The very world around her faded into darkness, and the mighty Matriarch fell to her knees in the air.

Azrath's eyes narrowed at the sight and he burst out laughing. A savage grin twisted on his face. "Ah, what's this?" he inquired with a mischievous gleam in his voice. "Is the mighty Matriarch displaying signs of weakness? Old wolf, is old age finally getting you?"

Despite the agony coursing through her body, Vargathrian clenched her jaw and stood straight. At this moment, she could not afford to appear weak. The fate of her tribe and the entire planet rested on her shoulders. 

But the blood she had coughed up told a different story—a story of a body that was breaking down under the strain of the battle, a body that couldn’t keep up with the demands of her power.

She was so weak that she couldn’t even use her [Worldforge], her domain.

"This battle is far from over," she snarled with a low and furious voice, telling Azrath. "I will not stand by while you ruin all that I have battled for. My tribe will live to see another day."

But the Vampiric Father could see through her bravado. Her anxious expression and shaking hands were obvious to him. A deep, eerie sound resounded across the battlefield as he chuckled. "Go ahead, Vargathrian. Your time has ended. The moment has come for you. I shall remain, while you will go down in history as a mere footnote."

Vargathrian was struck by an onslaught of increasingly vicious blood magic as Azrath continued to release it. 

His immense power was like a raging torrent of wickedness that could have engulfed her completely. Vargathrian tried to defend herself. She used the powers of nature, but it didn’t help. The onslaught was too great, too powerful. 

With every passing second, her strength and energy faded.

Desperation began to grip her heart. She grew increasingly panicked. She forced herself to continue fighting, for her the last of her people’s life was on the line, but her body faltered. Each breath was a struggle, every movement a fight that threatened to overpower her. 

The burden of her responsibility grew heavier with each passing second, overwhelming her weakened shoulders. 

The Vampiric Father’s attacks grew more relentless, more brutal sensing her weakening self. He didn’t miss the chance. He could taste the victory that was within his grasp. The skies above them darkened further as his blood magic filled the air, blocking the moon and stars. 

The ground beneath them cracked and split, unable to withstand the power of their now one-sided battle.

Vargathrian's power continued to wane, and her eyesight became fuzzy. As the din of gunfire faded into an ominous rumble, time seemed to stand still all around her. While she fought to maintain her balance, her body betrayed her, and she was about to pass out.

She was desperate, yet she still wouldn't give up. She guarded the natural environment in her role as Warden of the Wilds. She was too scared to mess up. In no time at all.

“Rargh!” In a last, desperate scream, Vargathrian drew upon her innermost power reserves, summoning her last shred of strength. As if the universe had heard her, a brilliant light had suddenly appeared in the sky above her. A full-blown storm was on the horizon as the wind howled with increased intensity, whipping the clouds into a ferocious vortex. 

Lightning danced across the sky like cracks across a mirror, splitting the heavens with their fierce brilliance. Her body trembled with the effort, every muscle straining as she poured everything she had into this final stand.

If released into the ground, it would erase a city from the map with ease.

Such a technique was being hurled toward a lone man.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t enough.

"[Worldforge Expansion]," Azrath's words sliced through the tempest like a razor, his hands creating a complicated ceremonial symbol.

 A scary surge of red energy was rapidly converging on him. A suffocating bubble of black magic encircled them both as a dome of throbbing blood materialized in an instant. The air within the dome thickened with an oppressive force as if the very essence of life was being drawn out and twisted by the Vampiric Father’s will.

Battles outside the dome came to a halt as all attention turned to the ominous structure. Looking within, the warriors on both sides were filled with fear and dread since they couldn't see what was going on. 

The whirling blood within the dome hid everything, leaving only a creeping fear for anyone courageous enough to stare upon it.

As the morning sun drew near, the crimson dome gradually started to unravel, vanishing into thin air. The final remnants of the dome dissipated, and the battleground reemerged. Everyone was stunned into stillness by what they witnessed.

The battle was over. Vargathrian of the First Apocalypse fell from the sky, her body all bloody and no strength remnant in her veins.

Things had gone horribly wrong. Total annihilation was here.