Chapter 347: Race to the Exist

Chapter 347: Race to the ExistSome time later the entire primordial sanctum trembled as it seemed the sky was torn apart.

Boom!

Instantly everyone quickly noticed this and felt the direction from where this phenomenon took place.

"Finally, the time had come."

"This time, I will definitely leave this place!"

"Nobody can stop me."

Numerous voices and roars filled with excitement can be heard throughout the sanctum.

The atmosphere twisted with anticipation. A final war was about to begin.

Apollo also locked his target as he also went towards the entrance that just appeared.

Without hesitation, he moved. Each step was silent, yet it carried the weight of a thousand battles. The ground beneath him cracked faintly, and the shattered mountain he had emerged from continued to crumble in his wake.

Hundreds of thousands or millions of inhabitants, along with the surviving geniuses in the sanctum, make their way toward it.

The land trembled under their march.

Fierce beasts howled from the shadowed forests. Blinding light erupted from the depths of sacred grounds. Bloodline auras clashed mid-air, forming storms of chaos, hatred, and ambition.

Each warrior knew one truth:

There was no second chance.

Only those who reached the portal—and survived the battle at its gate—would ever see the world beyond this prison again.

Above them all, high in the storm-torn sky, Apollo moved like a falling comet, cloaked in red-gold brilliance. Unlike the others, there was no desperation in his eyes.

Only calm resolve... and absolute dominance.

He quickly arrived near the exitl, which, although was still closed, could be seen from a distance. In the distance, suspended between torn skies and fractured space, the exit portal loomed like a silent god.

One by one, the others began to arrive.

Geniuses, radiating brilliance and pride, many of whom had survived impossible odds. Inhabitants, born of bloodstained legacies, their eyes burning with fury and desperation.

Every passing second, more figures gathered on the shattered plains near the portal, forming a restless sea of power, tension, and quiet hatred. But no one made a move.

Not yet.

Fighting now would only exhaust their strength before the real battle began. The portal remained closed, and its time had not yet come.

So they waited—watching each other, measuring enemies, calculating risk.

As he also waited, after some time Clark, Sara and Arvain also arrived there. They arrived in silence, their steps steady, their eyes sharp. Each of them bore signs of battles fought and survived—scars, both visible and unseen.

Time seemed to pass slowly as the people gathered. The geniuses from outside were the first to gather on one side, as there were very few compared to the inhabitants. They knew they needed to work together if they wanted to survive and leave the sanctum.

The geniuses knew, divided, they would fall. Only united could they claw their way toward the exit.

They didn’t trust each other. But they didn’t need to.

Not here.

Not now.

Their goal was the same—to survive, to escape. And every one of them knew that when the portal opened, the Sanctum itself would become a battlefield unlike any they had faced before.

When they entered, they had two thousand geniuses from the Void God and True God ranks each, but now only about eight hundred survived and gathered here.

But eight hundred was nothing compared to the millions of inhabitants that have gathered here. The only thing that made them confident was that everyone here genius among geniuses, having extraordinary strength.

Compared to that, inhabitants mostly were weak, even though there were also some geniuses, but there would definitely be no more than fifty or sixty.

The gap in average strength between the two sides was immense.

And yet—

Numbers still held power.

The battlefield that was about to open before them wouldn’t be decided by strength alone. It would be decided by strategy, by unity, and above all—by will.

Apollo narrowed his eyes as he felt the tension thickening in the air, looking at the large tear in the sky.

Boom!

The portal seemed to finally tremble and burst out with mysterious power that seemed to envelop all the creatures in hundreds of miles.

"Bang! Boom! ...

"Aaagh—!"

Cries echoed through the Sanctum.

"No! No, I don’t want to stay here!"

"I was so close!"

A golden barrier seemed to appear that seemed to knock down quite some inhabitants, who seemed to be trying to hide. As it seemed there was also an age limit for the inhabitants who wanted to leave.

Apollo watched silently as the scene unfolded, his gaze sharp and unreadable. In a matter of seconds thousands of inhabitants were knocked out by the golden barrier.

Crack...

Boom!

And with a final burst, the exit portal was opened, and the race to leave this place began. Only the two thousand can leave, just like the two thousand that came here.

Then came the silence.

For one breath.

Two.

And then—

Chaos erupted.

A frenzy unlike anything before. Millions surged forward. Roars of fury, cries of desperation, battle hymns, and the clash of weapons blended into a single, deafening roar.

All of them desperately ran towards the exit portal as the golden barrier disappeared. Apollo and the other eight hundred geniuses, also with their combined strength, also ran towards the exit portal.

Together, like a spear piercing the heart of chaos, they charged toward the exit. Their movements were swift and precise, the ground cracking beneath their feet, air splitting with sonic thunder.

But how could it be so easy?

How could the inhabitants—those born here, trapped here for generations—possibly let them leave without a fight?

They didn’t.

From every direction, hundreds of thousands of inhabitants descended like a raging tempest. The sky darkened beneath the sheer number of attacks. Screams, battle cries, and explosions tore through the air.

It was not a battle. It was a war.

A clash of desperation of bloodlines born in confinement with geniuses from the three universes.

Fire erupted. Beams of light carved through the battlefield. Laws clashed—space torn, blades shattered, bodies fell. The very sanctum seemed to weep under the chaos, mountains crumbling and rivers boiling.