At drecks house
"SOULTRACE EXTRACTION."
A low hum vibrated through the air. The temperature seemed to drop.
Dreck's eyes widened for a fraction of a second before narrowing again. He could feel it—an invasive force creeping into his mind, clawing past memory, identity, and instinct. It wasn't just magic—it was precision psychospiritual engineering. They were ripping through his soul, threading through layers of consciousness, seeking data…
...but they hit a wall.
An unseen force exploded from within Dreck's chest—subtle, yet immovable.
Mindlock protocol.
His own defensive ability, honed over decades, wasn't just sensory awareness—it was spiritual lockdown. A defense mechanism so refined it could clamp down on external intrusion like a vice on an insect.
The invading Soultrace shattered like glass against it.
The figures all staggered, breaking the circle, the glow on their fingers instantly extinguished.
The lead figure hissed. "You resisted it?"
Dreck stood tall, shadows rippling around him like smoke. His smile returned—but it wasn't friendly.
"Oh, I resisted it alright," he said coldly. "You poked at something you can't begin to comprehend."
"You've been hiding behind smoke and rumors," the leader growled. "But this confirms it… you're no ordinary. You're the real thing.
Dreck took one deliberate step forward.
"And you're not," he replied.
Before the figure could respond, Dreck moved—a blur of speed and precision. He appeared behind one of the intruders, hand cocked back—
"Fifth Fang: Sundering Palm!"
His palm struck with compressed force, enough to snap bone and shatter chi flow—but the figure vanished an instant before impact, narrowly dodging.
All six retreated as one, backpedaling into formation.
"You resisted our Soultrace Extraction," the leader snarled. "Impressive. But don't think it's over. You've only delayed the inevitable."
And with that, they dissolved into shadow, vanishing as if they'd never been there.
Dreck stood in the silence that followed, chest rising slowly.
Then—his expression shifted.
He turned to the window, Ambient Suppression Veil now widened into a pulse.
"...They're still coming, huh?"
He clenched a fist, his knuckles popping one by one.
"Eighty," he murmured. "No subtlety this time. They're sending the flood."
The air changed.
Ten assassins emerged from the shadows instantly, without pretense or illusion—fanning out in a semi-circle.
"Let's make it quick," Dreck muttered, eyes glinting.
The assassins charged.
Dreck moved.
In the span of a breath, he swept through the center of their formation.
"Third Fang: Crushing Cyclone."
His body spun with lethal grace, limbs moving like iron whips—three assassins dropped before they even realized they'd been hit, bodies crashing to the floor with lifeless thuds.
Liam groaned and stood, trembling.
"Let me join the party," he said hoarsely.
Dreck turned sharply. "Don't push it, Liam. You've done enough."
But Liam didn't listen. He took a shaky step forward, then another.
"Uncle Dreck… I'm I'm okay now" he said. His voice cracked—raw, but determined. "I can fight. I have to fight."
"Liam—"
"How can I avenge my parents… if I just keep falling " Liam's fists clenched at his sides. "How can I grow if I don't push past my limits?"
A single tear traced down his cheek, shimmering in the dim light.
"I want to see what I can become… even if it's just for a moment."
Dreck's lips parted slightly. For the first… he saw not a boy—but a warrior in the making.
---
"I've I've always wanted to see you fight, Uncle… but right now, I want to be the one to take them down," Liam said, his voice trembling but firm. "If you stepped in, they wouldn't even count as a warm-up. So… please. Let me be the one to crush them. Let me earn this."
Dreck stared at him for a long moment—at the bruises, the shaking legs, the fire in those eyes.
"...Hnn. Do as you like," he said quietly, lowering his head with a faint, bitter smile. "But don't die on me, kid."
Hnnn you can count on me
Liam let out a little smile
"You should do what your uncle says, kid," one of the assassins sneered, stepping forward with a blade already mid-swing.
The steel sang through the air.
Liam ducked.
But something was different.
His movement wasn't just reflex—it was fluid, sharpened, unpredictable. His footwork blurred, pivoting behind the attacker like a ghost in motion.
And then—
BOOM.
Liam's fist landed with a thunderous crack against the assassin's ribs. The impact launched the man backward like a ragdoll, crashing into two others and taking them down like bowling pins.
Even Dreck's eyes widened.
That blow… had weight. More weight than any of Liam's previous attacks combined.
The silence that followed was stunned.
Liam stood over the fallen assassin, shoulders heaving. "I'm not done yet," he said, breathless.
"Not until I've carved my own path."
Now uncle dreck watch how I pass my limits
The other assassins now eyed him warily, no longer seeing a child—but something else.
Something dangerous.
Dreck smirked. "...Alright, kid. You earned that moment."
He cracked his knuckles.
"But try to keep up."
Here's a continuation for back at Kaela's house, matching the emotional tone and intensity of the Dreck-Liam scene while also raising the stakes:
---
Back at Kaela's house…
The air had turned ice-cold.
Lucas stood firm, fists clenched, eyes never leaving the six figures that had surrounded them. Kaela remained just behind him, breathing hard, every muscle in her body screaming from fatigue.
The six intruders had just completed their chant—
"SOULTRACE EXTRACTION."
But…
Nothing happened.
Lucas's body didn't flinch. His mind stayed sealed. A silence rippled through the space as the air itself recoiled.
The lead figure's eyes narrowed.
"You resisted it…?"
Lucas exhaled slowly, his voice a low growl.
"You thought you could rip into my mind like it was paper? You have no idea what you're dealing with."
A faint red shimmer faded from his skin, like a protective veil dissolving.
"That resistance—" one of them muttered. "That's not natural."
Lucas lifted his head, eyes blazing now with thin threads of ethereal blue.
"It's called Phantom Lock. A soul-seal technique. Try your trick again—and I'll bury you before you blink."
The figures tensed, then stepped back almost simultaneously.
"You're not the target," the leader said coldly. "Not yet. We'll return when it matters."
In a blur of shadow, they vanished—leaving behind only a whisper of displaced air.
Kaela stumbled forward, grabbing Lucas's arm. "Wh-What was that? What did they do to us?"
Lucas didn't look at her. His voice was sharp and distant.
"They tried to invade our minds. To steal memories.know more about the Assassin Slayers."
Then Lucas sensed it.
His breath caught.
Like distant tremors pressing against the edge of his spirit, he felt them—eighty hostile presences, each masked, cloaked, and deadly, sweeping toward the house like a tidal wave of death.
He turned sharply, his voice low and commanding.
"Kaela—stay by my side. No matter what. I'll do the fighting."
Kaela's eyes widened. "Eighty? That's—insane. You can't fight all of them alone—!"
Lucas didn't blink. His jaw was tight, his aura beginning to shimmer like bending light.