For three long days, Wakawa's army, a horde composed mainly of elite soldiers, lingered menacingly near the border. The Imperium, though aware their purpose was purely defensive, did not dare to attack them directly. However, a whisper of alarm was dispatched to every nearby barracks, and the news of a colossal army amassed on the frontier spread as rapidly as wildfire across the steppe. Saland, sensing the encroaching shadow, had declared a state of high alert throughout the entire kingdom.
At the stroke of the end of the fourth day, Wakawa, with his tidal wave of men, unleashed a furious assault against every border outpost. The Imperium forces stationed there could not withstand the overwhelming human mass, estimated to be at least one hundred thousand warriors. The nearby villages were razed to the ground in a whirlwind of violence, and the inhabitants, along with the executors who attempted to defend them, were massacred without mercy.
The survivors of the border villages, their eyes wide with terror, poured towards the inner cities, depopulating the frontier lands that swiftly transformed into desolate no-man's-lands. Saland, feeling the weight of that carnage, set out towards the border, accompanied by Saruth, Egar, Rhon, Kan, Ren, and Rorrak. The journey had taken several days, but during the travel, they had not encountered any sign of the enemy.
Finally, Saland and his companions approached the area of the devastated villages. A spectral silence hung in the air, broken only by the rustling of the wind through the smoking ruins. Suddenly, a dull rumble of heavy footsteps shattered the stillness. At that precise moment, a thick fog had risen from the damp earth, enveloping everything in a dense, gray shroud. Until then, in the growing haze, they had noticed nothing. But now, the unmistakable sound revealed an imposing presence: the enemy was no more than five hundred meters away from them.
Saland and his companions settled into combat stances. The mist thinned, and before them, an enormous army materialized, led by a youth garbed in an impeccably white kimono. His eyes were a striking azure, his hair a bright blond, and a conical straw hat sat atop his head. A long katana rested in his grip. Saland felt no fear, attempting to step forward, but instantly, Wakawa materialized before him, a blade flashing in a close-quarters slash. Saland narrowly avoided the blow. Without hesitation, Saruth, Egar, Rhon, Kan, Rorrak, and Ren positioned themselves as a protective wall before Saland, forcing Wakawa to step back and signal his troops to advance.
In that confined moment, Saland and his allies found themselves within a narrow, rocky valley, their movements restricted. Saruth immediately unleashed his Blue Burns Awakened, a torrential wave of azure flames erupting towards the enemy ranks, felling numerous foes. Yet, their adversaries swiftly conjured a mana barrier, deflecting the searing attack. Following closely, Ren activated her innate skill, Art of a Thousand Blades in Bloom, her petal-like projectiles swirling through the enemy formation, sowing chaos.
But then, a figure wielding a colossal hammer plummeted from the sky, crushing several of his own comrades. "You weaklings wouldn't even graze opponents this strong! Stand back and witness the might of Frid the Hammerer!" Frid was a towering man, his muscles bulging, his long orange hair and beard cascading down his back. He hefted the massive hammer as if it were a mere twig, immediately swinging it towards Saland's group. Rorrak responded instantly, activating his innate Light Rock Technique, his arms hardening into reinforced rock, intercepting the hammer's descent. With a grunt, he kicked the weapon, sending it spiraling into the air. Frid snatched it mid-flight, attempting another strike, but Rorrak sidestepped and shoved him back.
Saland observed from behind, a flicker of annoyance at being shielded mingling with a surge of gratitude for his dependable friends. Saruth's voice cut through the din, "Saland, you stay behind us. We'll clear out the small fry, and then you can deal with their leader." As he spoke, Rorrak delivered a solid punch to Frid's face, causing the behemoth to stagger. But Frid roared, "Maul of Power Awakened!" An intense orange aura erupted around his form, and even his hammer pulsed with the same energy. Frid now resembled a savage beast, poised to slaughter all before him, an intimidating sight that even his own human soldiers recoiled from.
Undaunted, Rorrak charged Frid head-on, but the hammer-wielder moved with astonishing speed, slamming his massive weapon into Rorrak, sending him hurtling into a nearby rock face. Rorrak crashed to the ground, slowly pushing himself back to his feet, regaining his stance. Frid boomed, "I relish a worthy adversary! Had you fallen with a single blow, it would have been utterly dull!" Frid lunged again, but Rorrak nimbly leaped onto the descending hammer, attempting a rapid-fire assault of punches. Frid countered by spinning his enormous weapon, creating a vortex of air, a miniature hurricane that blasted Rorrak away. Yet, Rorrak channeled magical energy into his right arm, slamming it into the ground, destabilizing Frid. Seizing the opportunity, Rorrak struck Frid squarely in the chest. Frid remained standing, unleashing an even more terrifying aura, his next blow connecting with Rorrak with devastating force, nearly ending his life.
Seeing Rorrak teetering on the brink, Kan moved to assist, but Saland, bloodied yet resolute, stood firm. "Stay back, Kan! This is my fight!" Rorrak turned towards Frid, who wore a look of grim satisfaction. "Now… I'll show you my true power… Light Rock Technique Awakened!" As the words left his lips, Rorrak's form underwent a dramatic transformation. No longer merely a rock coating, his entire body was now encased in a formidable suit of hardened rock armor, from head to toe. A crimson aura pulsed from every crevice, and his eyes glowed with an intense red light.
Rorrak and Frid locked gazes, the tension palpable. Rorrak moved first, a swift dash that placed him instantly behind Frid. But the larger man swung his hammer, and Rorrak narrowly evaded the strike. Rorrak spun, his foot connecting with the hammer, sending it clattering to the ground. Frid adopted a defensive posture, and the two engaged in brutal close-quarters combat. Rorrak's speed and precision overwhelmed Frid, a flurry of rapid blows that the hammer-wielder struggled to parry. But with a sudden burst of speed, Frid snatched his hammer, his stance shifting as he channeled magical energy into the weapon, his orange aura intensifying further. "Now, taste my ultimate attack… Explosive Blow!" Frid roared, every muscle in his body coiling. Rorrak braced himself, and the two figures lunged at each other with blinding speed. Frid was fractionally faster, his enormous hammer connecting squarely with Rorrak, crushing him into the earth. Rorrak's body was riddled with wounds, his rock armor shattered. He was dead. But before Frid could savor his victory, Kan, with a lightning-fast slash, decapitated him. A single tear traced a path down Kan's left cheek.
He decapitated instantly. A lone tear traced a path down the left side of Kan's face.
Wakawa, his gaze losing its initial morbid fascination, turned and began to walk towards Saland. Ren, ever vigilant, noticed his departure and moved to intercept.
"Jenny, she's all yours," Wakawa stated flatly, not breaking his stride.
As if summoned by his words, a tall, dark-haired girl materialized between Wakawa and Ren. With a swift, clean arc of her blade, Jenny forced Ren to retreat. Wakawa, taking advantage of the momentary distraction, vanished in a blink, teleporting directly to Saland, bypassing the still forms of Kan and Egar. In another swift, almost imperceptible movement, both he and Saland were gone.
Ren's reaction was immediate and visceral. Without a second thought, she unleashed her innate ability. "Art of a Thousand Blades in Bloom!" Violet petals, shimmering like amethyst dust, erupted around her, coalescing into intricate layers that formed a delicate yet formidable armor across her entire body. Her single blade shimmered, then split, becoming a lethal pair.
For the first time, the steel of Ren's twin blades met Jenny's. Sparks flew as they exchanged a flurry of rapid strikes, a dance of death under the afternoon sun. Jenny, with her imposing height and dark features, was clad in practical, skin-tight black attire, a stark contrast to the blossoming petals surrounding Ren. A black military cap sat firmly on her head, adding a touch of cold efficiency to her appearance.
Ren, her movements fluid and swift, attempted to overwhelm her opponent with sheer speed. She employed her signature "Maiden's Step," a technique designed to leave afterimages and disorient. However, Jenny remained unfazed, a smirk playing on her lips.
"If that's all you've got," Jenny scoffed, her voice laced with disdain, "you're truly nothing but fodder... Blood Moon Claw!"
In an instant, a terrifying transformation swept over Jenny. Her long, dark hair flowed like a crimson waterfall, staining itself with the color of fresh blood. Her very physique seemed to warp, her practical black clothes dissolving and reforming into a grotesque garment woven from what appeared to be solidified blood. Even her katana pulsed with a malevolent red light, dripping with viscous fluid.
Reacting instantly, Ren conjured a swirling vortex of countless petal-blades behind her. With a flick of her wrists, she unleashed the storm, sending the razor-sharp petals hurtling towards Jenny. With agile movements, Jenny weaved through the barrage, each step leaving a faint crimson trail. The two warriors clashed once more, their blades singing a deadly duet.
Ren, her mind racing, attempted a feint, redirecting a wave of petals to strike Jenny from her unguarded rear. But Jenny, her senses heightened by her transformed state, reacted instantly. Her blood-soaked katana blurred, unleashing a series of crimson arcs that sliced through the air in every direction. Ren struggled to evade the relentless assault, the blood-infused strikes tearing through her petal armor, leaving shallow, stinging wounds. Yet, she stood firm, her determination unwavering. She lowered her stance, preparing for another onslaught. Jenny mirrored her, a predatory gleam in her blood-red eyes.
They lunged. Jenny was faster, her movements imbued with a terrifying, unnatural speed. Her bloodied blade slammed into Ren's chest, a sickening thud echoing in the sudden silence. A torrent of blood erupted from the wound, staining Ren's delicate petal armor a gruesome crimson. But even as blood gurgled in her throat, Ren refused to yield.
"Art of a Thousand Blades in Bloom... Awakened!" she gasped, her voice thick with blood.
The remaining petals swirling around her surged towards her shattered twin blades. They didn't simply merge; they fused, growing and solidifying, transforming into a single, massive sword that pulsed with a vibrant, ethereal light. It was so large that Ren had to grip it with both hands, the weight of her dying resolve flowing into the weapon. Jenny watched, a flicker of something akin to amusement in her crimson gaze.
With a final, desperate surge of strength, Ren lunged forward, the enormous blade a blur of motion. She managed to graze Jenny's shoulder, a shallow cut that drew a thin line of blood. Jenny recoiled, narrowly avoiding the complete severing of her left arm.
In response, Jenny's blood-soaked katana dissolved, the crimson liquid flowing and solidifying around her hands, morphing into wickedly sharp claws. Her speed, already terrifying, seemed to double. Ren could barely track her movements, each strike a searing pain across her body. Yet, she stood, swaying but unbroken. With a roar of defiance, she swung her massive blade, unleashing arcs of raw, rosy energy that tore through the air. Jenny, however, danced around the attacks with unnerving ease.
Cornered, her lifeblood draining away, Ren knew this was her last chance. She poured every last vestige of her mana into the colossal blade, the petals within it glowing with an intense pink and violet light, the very air around it shimmering with power.
"Now or never... Final Blade of a Thousand Flowers!" she cried, her voice a ragged whisper.
The massive sword pulsed, its light intensifying, its size seeming to grow even further. Their eyes locked, a silent acknowledgment of the finality of the moment. They moved as one, a desperate, fatal dance. Their attacks connected. A catastrophic spray of blood erupted from Ren's body, and she crashed to the ground, her life extinguished like a snuffed candle. Ren was dead.
Without hesitation, Rhon shot forward. A searing beam of pure light erupted from his hand, engulfing Jenny in an instant. There was no scream, no resistance, only the swift consumption of her form by incandescent light.
As the last embers faded, leaving behind a wisp of smoke and the lingering scent of ozone, a single tear escaped Rhon's otherwise vacant eye. It traced a lonely path down his cheek, a silent testament to the act he had just committed. His gaze remained fixed on the spot where Jenny had stood, an empty void reflecting the desolation within him.
Egar was surrounded by enemies, a grim tableau under the alien sky. Yet, his gaze, imbued with the innate power of "Piercing Eyes," sliced through their crude formations, pinpointing the subtle flaws, the hairline cracks in their defenses. Like a phantom amidst the throng, he moved, each strike a precise incision that felled foe after foe, a grim dance orchestrated by his unique vision.
A verdant talisman, nestled against his worn tunic, pulsed with a faint inner light. It was his anchor, a magical tether that not only suppressed the raw force that surged within him but also held back the relentless march of time. But the tide of battle shifted with the sudden appearance of a figure wreathed in shadow. A black slash, a whisper of darkness, grazed Egar's arm, a chilling prelude to the arrival of the newcomer.
The warrior was a stark silhouette against the carnage, his long, black hair a cascade against the polished obsidian of his armor. He moved with an unnerving grace, his gaze fixed on Egar. "I see you're quite the busy bee," the dark knight's voice resonated, a low, menacing rumble. "You've already culled at least fifty of our ranks, old one. But now, your rampage ends. Face me, Lelnof, the Dark Knight!"
A flicker of something akin to respect, or perhaps grim amusement, touched Egar's weathered features. "You carry a different weight about you, lad," he rasped, his voice carrying the grit of countless battles. "Stronger than the rest. Let's just hope you're more than a fleeting appetizer."
The air crackled with unspoken challenge as their eyes met. The stillness shattered as Lelnof exploded into motion, his long, black sword a blur of lethal intent aimed at Egar's heart. Steel shrieked against steel as Egar met the attack, his own blade a seasoned extension of his will. But Lelnof was no ordinary foe. A dark, viscous energy erupted from his sword, a shadowy flame that crashed against Egar's guard, threatening to buckle his stance. Yet, Egar stood firm, his ancient muscles coiled and ready. With a burst of surprising speed, he retaliated, a flurry of precise strikes aimed at Lelnof's exposed points.
A wave of oppressive power washed over Egar as Lelnof unleashed his aura, forcing the old warrior to retreat a step. "Against an opponent of your caliber," Lelnof's voice deepened, laced with a chilling resolve, "there's no room for restraint... Malignant Decay!" The air around him twisted, a vortex of dark energy erupting from his very being. His eyes, once human, now burned with an unholy light – irises swallowed by black, pupils glowing with a sinister violet.
Instinct took over. Egar's "Piercing Eyes" flared, his vision sharpening to an impossible degree, seeking the chinks in Lelnof's terrifying display. But Lelnof moved with a speed that defied his heavy armor, his advance a swift, brutal hammer blow. The hilt of his sword slammed into Egar's chest, a jarring impact that stole his breath. Yet, Egar, his body honed by decades of war, staggered but did not fall.
A grim determination etched itself onto his aged face. "I never imagined," he muttered, his voice strained, "that I would have to unleash my true power here, now." His calloused hand reached for the green talisman, clutching it tightly. As he poured his inner energy, his mana, into the gem, it pulsed with a furious light, the verdant hue bleeding into a violent crimson. In that instant, the years seemed to accelerate their passage across Egar's frame. His skin wrinkled further, his back stooped, his once vibrant hair thinning to wisps of white. He looked every bit the seventy years he now embodied, but with this sacrifice came a surge of power that dwarfed his previous state. His aura flared, a crimson tide against Lelnof's encroaching darkness.
Egar moved, a blur of unexpected speed despite his aged form, his sword a whirlwind of desperate attacks. Lelnof, his eyes narrowed, met each blow with his own dark blade, the clang of steel echoing across the ravaged battlefield. But Egar's "Piercing Eyes" were his advantage. He saw them now, shimmering like gold amidst Lelnof's formidable defenses – the crucial points, the subtle weaknesses. With a sudden, explosive burst of speed, Egar's blade pierced Lelnof's armor, finding purchase in one of those golden vulnerabilities. The golden point flickered, then blackened, and a visible tremor ran through Lelnof's powerful aura.
Understanding dawned in Lelnof's violet-tinged eyes. The trick, the old man's desperate gamble. He roared, a guttural cry of defiance, and unleashed the totality of his power. Black lines, like veins of shadow, snaked across his skin, his muscles bulging, his aura intensifying to an almost unbearable degree. Egar's enhanced vision registered the change – the golden points had vanished, replaced by a uniform, blinding gold that now permeated Lelnof's entire being. Awe flickered within Egar's ancient heart. To reach such a level without the true awakening… it spoke volumes of the dark knight's relentless dedication.
"I may not have unlocked my Awakening," Lelnof growled, his voice thick with power, "but through countless trials, I have forged my innate ability to its absolute peak! This… this is my ultimate potential!"
A somber resolve settled upon Egar's face. "Then I suppose," he said, his voice low but firm, "I must end this here and now. If you were to survive, you would become an insurmountable threat to Saland and the others." With a final, decisive act, Egar grasped the crimson talisman in his right hand and crushed it. The gem shattered, its light fading as the last vestiges of his artificially suppressed age vanished. He aged again, rapidly, his body now bearing the weight of perhaps ninety years, frail yet imbued with a terrifying, fleeting power.
He moved like a phantom, a whirlwind of dying energy, striking Lelnof from every conceivable angle. Lelnof, despite his enhanced power, struggled to keep pace with the old warrior's desperate onslaught. He parried, countered, and finally, gathering all his remaining strength, charged his final attack. The two figures lunged, a desperate clash of fading might. Their swords met, piercing flesh and bone simultaneously. But as their blades found their mark, Egar unleashed the last of his power, a blinding ray of crimson light erupting from his sword. Lelnof roared, mirroring the attack with a beam of pure, black energy. The two forces collided, a cataclysm of light and shadow, and then… silence. Lelnof slumped, his eyes devoid of light.
Egar's body began to crumble, turning to dust that drifted on the wind. Yet, a faint smile touched his lips. "Saland," he whispered, his voice fading with his physical form, "I know you're watching from somewhere. Thank you… thank you for your trust… for avenging this old man… Thank you for everything, Saland." And with that final word, Egar's body dissolved completely, leaving only the echoes of a fierce battle in the desolate air.
Rhon, Saruth, and Kan stood as the last vestiges of hope, their backs against the bottleneck of the pass. A figure blurred into existence – Wakawa. His movement was less a step and more a divine flicker, placing him instantly behind Rhon and Kan. Before they could even react, Wakawa was a streak of motion again, hurtling towards Saland.
Saland, who had been a still point amidst the chaos, finally rose. The glint of steel flashed as he unsheathed Mountain Splitter. The clash of their legendary blades echoed for a fleeting moment, and then… nothing. Saland and Wakawa were simply gone, swallowed by an unseen void.
Rhon, Saruth, and Kan exchanged bewildered glances. The sudden disappearance of two such powerful figures left them momentarily stunned. But the press of enemies before them was a stark reminder of the immediate danger.
"We can't afford to hold anything back against these bastards!" Saruth's voice was sharp, cutting through the lingering shock.
"Yeah!" Ren and Kan responded in unison, their grips tightening on their weapons.
With a renewed surge of determination, the three remaining warriors surged forward, ready to meet the onslaught.