Unholy Player Chapter 482 A Little Overdone

The vibrations persisted for four agonizing seconds, each moment feeling like an eternity in the minds of those present.

Just as the fear that the facility would collapse reached its peak, the tremors finally subsided. The building remained standing, though it was now a graveyard of cracked walls, debris, and a shattered ceiling.

"Open the door now." Henry’s voice sliced through the heavy silence, devoid of any relief. His panic only intensified as the shaking stopped, his command carrying a sharp, desperate edge.

The force of the impact had far exceeded the destruction caused by Zephan’s earlier strike. With Adyr trapped at the epicenter of such a cataclysmic power, Henry couldn't stop his mind from conjuring the most horrific outcomes behind that reinforced steel.

Adding to the dread, the head researcher spoke with a voice that was noticeably unstable.

"The mechanism is not responding."

His fingers trembled as he tapped frantically at his tablet screen. The sheer force of the shockwave had evidently severed the connection; the door remained motionless, failing to emit even a faint mechanical click of acknowledgement.

The tablet display offered only a flashing red warning symbol and a single, terrifying number: 380.

That value represented a force 3.8 times greater than a 20 kt nuclear blast. Seeing it was enough to make the throats of everyone present go dry with terror.

"Can't we open it manually?" Henry demanded, searching for any alternative.

"We can," the head researcher replied, though his expression remained grim. "But the internal pressure must be astronomical."

To force open a seal held shut by such immense pressure would require a level of physical strength far beyond the capabilities of any human soldier.

All eyes instinctively shifted toward Zephan and his Elders. While they were renowned for their speed, this situation demanded raw, overwhelming power.

Zephan read the desperation in their gazes and grasped the gravity of the moment instantly. "Tell me what to do."

The translator was still reeling from the shock, struggling to find her voice, yet the urgency of the situation transcended the need for spoken language.

Driven by a flicker of hope, the head researcher sprinted to the door. He gestured wildly at the manual lever, miming the motion of turning it to the right and pulling with all one's might.

Silverlight understood the signal and stepped forward without a second thought. "Move aside."

He gripped the lever with both hands, his forearms bulging as arcs of crackling lightning danced across his skin.

The researchers didn't linger. Fearing they might be sucked into the room if the seal broke suddenly, they retreated to the far end of the hallway, watching the Lunari with bated breath from a safe distance.

Initially, the lever refused to budge, remaining frozen despite Zephan’s considerable strength. The metal groaned under the strain but held firm.

Refusing to be beaten, he began to channel his Spark skills to amplify his physical output.

The garment of lightning surrounding him surged with power, electric serpents coiling around his arms and the metal handle. His muscles expanded, and thick veins pulsed against his skin.

As an Ignis Path Practitioner, his specialty wasn't limited to mere speed; he possessed the techniques to manifest incredible strength when the situation demanded it.

The floor tiles beneath his feet began to splinter and crack as he poured his essence into the task.

With an ear-piercing screech of metal on metal, the lever finally began to rotate. Zephan maintained the pressure until a dull clink signaled the mechanism had reached its limit.

He then gripped the handle and pulled with savage force, pitting his Cultivation against the vacuum-like suction from within the chamber.

The ground crumbled further, turning to fine powder under his heels, but he eventually triumphed. The door creaked open just enough for the internal and external pressures to begin their violent equalization.

A whirlwind of dust and debris from the corridor was instantly sucked through the narrow slit, drawn in by the rushing air as it flooded the room.

Zephan held his position, waiting for the atmospheric chaos to settle before he finally threw the door wide to inspect the interior.

As he looked inside, his silver eyes dilated behind the shimmering radiance of his lightning armor.

The gold-tinted walls of the chamber had been transformed, now wearing a blackened, scorched patina from the extreme thermal energy they had endured.

But it was the other color that dominated the scene: a deep, visceral crimson. Blood was splattered everywhere as if it had been unleashed in torrents, coating every inch of the room from floor to ceiling. The sickening stench of charred meat and metallic copper filled the air, a scent so foul it would have driven a normal man to his knees in nausea.

Yet, the most horrifying sight was the silhouette standing in the center of the carnage.

"You are a madman, aren't you?" Silverlight whispered, his voice trembling as he stared at the ghastly figure.

Adyr’s frame was shrouded in a thin veil of black smoke that drifted lazily from his body. As the smoke cleared, the ruined state of the flesh beneath became visible.

His right arm was little more than a pulp of mangled tissue. The bone at the shoulder was shattered and exposed, while the surrounding torn skin and blood had been seared shut by the heat, prevented from dripping by the cauterization.

His chest and torso were a roadmap of agony.

His attire had been vaporized, leaving his skin non-existent. Beneath, the raw, glistening muscle fibers were laid bare, looking like a gruesome anatomical display from a medical textbook.

Half of his face appeared to have been flayed away, revealing the white of his skull and an empty, dark abyss where an eye should have been.

The remaining eye—a piercing crimson flame—fixed itself upon Zephan with a terrifying, detached serenity.

His jaw was partially destroyed, one side pulled back to reveal a row of white teeth while the other side remained eerily intact. That surviving half moved as a calm, bone-chilling voice echoed through the room.

"I might have overdone it a little."

He spoke with a casualness that suggested he was commenting on a minor mistake, rather than the total destruction of his own physical form.