The battlefield was alive with tension—each breath drawn felt heavier, charged with the energy of an impending clash. The morning mist curled around them like ghostly tendrils, while the echoes of the stone warrior's awakening still rumbled through the cliffs.
Raiga's golden eyes flickered with an unwavering fire. Beside him, Zapero cracked his knuckles, an eager smirk tugging at his lips. Across from them, Shema stood like an unmovable mountain, his silver armor gleaming in the dawn light. The beast beside him snarled, its red eyes glowing like embers of a dying star.
Then, the silence shattered.
The beast lunged first, a blur of dark fur and muscle. Raiga pivoted at the last second, narrowly avoiding the razor-sharp claws that tore through the sand where he had stood. He countered immediately, driving his foot into its ribs, but it was like striking solid rock. The creature barely flinched before whipping its tail toward him. Raiga ducked under the swipe, rolling to the side just as Shema rushed forward, his massive blade slicing through the air.
Zapero intercepted, meeting Shema's strike with his bare fists. A shockwave pulsed from the impact, sending sand blasting outward in a swirling storm. Shema's strength was monstrous, but Zapero's movements were fast, almost unpredictable. He weaved through Shema's strikes like water slipping through cracks, his blows precise and relentless.
Raiga, meanwhile, focused on the beast. It charged again, its powerful legs kicking up dust with each bound. This time, Raiga didn't dodge. He stood firm, waiting—then, at the last moment, he sidestepped, grabbing onto its fur and using its momentum against it. With a grunt of effort, he twisted his body, flipping the creature over and slamming it into the ground.
But the beast wasn't done.
It rebounded instantly, its muscles coiling like a spring before launching itself at him once more. Raiga barely had time to react as claws raked toward his chest. He managed to block with his forearm, but pain exploded through his body as the sheer force of the attack sent him skidding backward.
Zapero saw the struggle and moved swiftly. He feinted left before shifting right, delivering a crushing elbow strike to Shema's ribs. The armored warrior staggered, but only for a moment. In response, he thrust his palm forward, releasing a shockwave that sent Zapero flying back several meters.
Shema's masked face turned toward Raiga. "You fight well, but strength alone will not earn you passage."
Raiga gritted his teeth, his fingers digging into the sand as he pushed himself up. "I never said I was here to earn anything," he spat. "I'm taking my fate into my own hands."
Shema's stance shifted slightly, as if considering Raiga's words. But the moment was fleeting. The battle was far from over.
The beast roared, its fiery gaze locked onto Raiga as it prepared to unleash another assault. At the same time, Shema raised his massive blade once more, its edge gleaming under the rising sun.
Zapero, panting but still grinning, rolled his shoulders. "Looks like we'll have to go all out."
Raiga nodded. His body ached, his breath was heavy, but his spirit burned hotter than ever.
This was the battle that would forge his path. And he would not lose.
With a shared glance, Raiga and Zapero launched forward once more—one final push against their formidable foes.
The battlefield was eerily silent now and The dust had calmed down. The echoes of their battle had faded, replaced only by the soft howl of the wind. The beast lay lifeless on the ground, its once-fiery eyes extinguished. Raiga and Zapero stood over its fallen form, their bodies aching but victorious.
Shema, still kneeling, pressed a hand against the cracks in his silver armor. His masked face remained unreadable, but something had shifted in the air—something neither Raiga nor Zapero could place.
Then, without warning, Shema let out a quiet chuckle.
Zapero tensed. "What's so funny?"
Shema slowly rose to his feet, gripping his massive blade before planting it firmly into the ground. He exhaled, as if letting go of something weighty. "It seems I have underestimated you both," he admitted.
Raiga narrowed his eyes. "Then stay and fight. Or are you just going to talk?"
Shema turned his gaze to Zapero, ignoring Raiga's challenge entirely. "You, Zapero... You have no powers. No divine blood. And yet—" He tilted his head slightly. "Your fists move like lightning. Your instincts are sharper than warriors who have trained their whole lives."
Zapero frowned. "And?"
Shema's masked face seemed to shift into something resembling a smirk. "Despite having no power... you hold the potential of a god."
Zapero stiffened, his fists clenching at his sides. "The hell is that supposed to mean?"
Shema didn't answer. Instead, he reached down, gripping the hilt of his sword—then, in one swift motion, he turned and slammed it into the earth. A shockwave erupted, sending dust and debris into the air.
Raiga and Zapero braced themselves, shielding their faces as the dust cloud thickened. When it finally cleared—
Shema was gone.
The only thing left was the imprint of his blade in the shattered ground and the distant echoes of his fading footsteps.
Raiga gritted his teeth. "Damn coward."
Zapero, however, remained still, his jaw tight. Shema's words echoed in his mind, stirring something deep inside him. The potential of a god?
Raiga exhaled sharply, turning toward him. "Come on. We're not done yet."
Zapero clenched his fists once more, pushing aside the lingering thoughts. Whatever Shema meant—whatever his escape signified—there would be time to figure it out later.
As the dust settled and the battlefield grew quiet, a distant sound reached Raiga and Zapero's ears—a rising chorus of cheers.
Turning toward the cliffs above, they spotted their crew, the people who had been watching from afar, fists raised in triumph. Their voices carried through the morning air, filled with awe and exhilaration.
"They did it!" one shouted.
"The beast is down!" another added.
Zapero smirked, rolling his shoulders as he took in the sight. "Heh, they had doubts?"
Raiga, however, wasn't celebrating. His golden eyes scanned the horizon, his senses still sharp. Something about Shema's departure nagged at him. Why did he leave? What was his goal?
Unbeknownst to them, far away on a ridge overlooking the battlefield, Shema stood with his sword resting on his shoulder. His masked face was unreadable, but if one looked close enough—beneath the hardened warrior's exterior—there was a hint of something unusual.
A small, knowing smile.
"The potential of a god…" he murmured to himself, watching Zapero. Then, his gaze shifted to Raiga.
They will be interesting to watch.
With that, Shema turned and walked away, disappearing into the mist, leaving behind only the whispers of a battle that was far from over.