The image burns itself into my memory.

Dust hangs in the air, frozen in the aftermath of the impact. Tiny particles shimmer, catching the dim light as they drift weightless. Rocks remain suspended mid-fall, caught in the lingering pulse of force that still echoes from Imani's charge.

The space between each heartbeat drags.

Chiara's right arm lingers in the air—severed, weightless, as if gravity itself has yet to realize it's no longer attached. Blood barely begins to spray, droplets hanging like dark beads against the dust-filled air.

Her scream, raw and sharp, stretches into an eternity.

I push.

I force my body forward, tearing through the thick, suffocating slowness, breaking free from the moment. Muscles coil. My breath hitches. Pain pulses through my jaw, through every nerve in my body, but I ignore it.

I reach it.

The creature—

Its body bears the marks of the last exchange.

The right shoulder, fractured, its scales bent and cracked where Arjun's bullet struck. Its body, lined with splintered fissures from the force of Imani's impact. One of its tails bends awkwardly, no longer moving with its usual deadly fluidity.

And then—its eyes.

That glint.

No longer amusement. No longer toying with us.

Pure, seething fury.

It's angry.

I drive my blade forward, aiming for its left shoulder—a direct, forceful thrust.

A feint.

Even as the creature instinctively moves to intercept, my second blade lowers. My body bends forward, shifting my weight at the last second.

A short, precise slash—

Aimed straight for its heels.

I feel the sudden resistance—the pull of its waves trying to slow my blades movement. But I expected that.

I shift my right foot, cracking the ground beneath it, twisting my entire body in one motion. My grip loosens. I release my sword mid-thrust—

And drive my elbow straight into its waist.

The creature doesn't expect it.

Its waves, focused on my blade, can't counter a strike that isn't there.

It jerks back, but not fast enough.

My elbow slams into its abdomen. A sharp, guttural screech rips from its throat.

Its functional tail lashes from behind, aiming to crush my skull—

I dive below it.

My tendrils move in sync, catching the sword that was sent spiraling backward and bringing it back to my grip.

Its anger… it's making it predictable.

"Lukas, channel all three links on me. I'll take it head-on. I'll buy time and space for Chiara and Imani. Let's do it again," I send through the waves.

Not even a fraction of a second later, I feel it.

Lukas' three links snap into place.

Pillar enhancement. Physical boost. Natural healing amplification.

A flood of energy courses through me, a controlled surge igniting every nerve.

"Houston, we have Lukas healing. Let's go all-in."

"On it. Dual-Overdrive Protocol active. Overdrive at its hard limit. You have twenty seconds."

I won't need more.

The moment the effects merge, the shift hits.

The world crawls to a near stop.

Every detail sharpens.

I see it.

The bare streaks of blue blood clinging to the creature's scales, tiny droplets reflecting the dim light.

The lingering dust, frozen midair.

The scattered bullets across the ground—ours and his.

And in the stillness—

I move.

My blades carve through the air in perfect synch—one slashing upward, aiming for the neck, the other driving forward, a thrust to the ribs.

The creature reacts. Its blade rises, moving to protect its throat—

Too slow.

The injury from Arjun's bullet lingers, its right arm lagging behind by a fraction. Not enough to cripple it. Enough to matter.

It knows it won't block in time. It knows.

So it does what it always does. It slows me down. Waves crash against my blade, thickening the air, trying to dull my speed. But—

It underestimates me.

I see its thoughts.

It reads my pattern, my past attacks. It believes the thrust at the ribs is my true intention, that the strike to the neck is a feint. It expects me to overcommit, to reveal my opening. It prepares its tail—one to intercept, the other angling downward, ready to shoot from beneath its legs.

But—

Both of my attacks were always a feint.

I sidestep, tendrils anchoring me to the ground. The force keeps me steady, keeps me facing the creature, my stance barely shifting—just enough.

Its reaction is slow.

I drive my blade toward its shoulder.

It screeches, its tail shifting midair to intercept—

Predictable.

My thrust was never meant to land.

I twist, the momentum from my rotation folding into my leg, and unleash a low kick.

It hits.

The creature stumbles.

Its eyes widen, a flash of surprise—the first crack in its control. But it adapts. Its force field flares, grounding its body, its left blade swinging from the opposite side in a wide arc.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

I see the vector before it moves. The angle. The force behind it.

Too slow.

I drive my blade toward its thigh while the other intercepts its attack.

The creature reacts—adjusting, shifting its strike to counter my thrust.

But I never intended to hit.

My right blade continues forward, and as expected, the creature repels it with its field.

But—

Then come my tendrils.

They snap forward, all at once, aiming for its thigh.

Individually weak. No true force behind them.

But it doesn't know that.

Its attention splits.

That's all I need.

I let my sword bend back under its force—then shift my grip.

I grab the pommel. Shift my weight.

I drive my entire body forward, turning its own resistance against it.

Crack!

The pommel slams into its already fractured right shoulder.

If my jaw were intact, I'd be grinning right now.

How does it feel?

The creature screeches again, that ugly, grating sound tearing through the air, its maw of jagged teeth bared in agony.

Scream all you want. Get angry. Let it consume you. Let it drive your actions.

I lean my body back, making it think I'm retreating. Making it think I'm afraid of its rage. Let it believe its screech sent a shiver through my bones.

But—

Not a chance.

Just as it prepares to lunge, I pivot—my feet twisting against the dirt, momentum snapping me forward instead.

For a brief second, our eyes lock.

That cold, mocking glint? Gone.

What's left is something raw. Something furious.

Good. Good.

The creature is caught off guard. Its forward lunge left it open, its stance overextended.

It tries to adjust—tries to plant its foot, to brace—

Too late.

I slide my left foot, just enough to break its balance further. It topples forward, the gap between us shrinking—

And then it happens.

Its eyes narrow. A wicked glint passes through them.

My breath catches.

A sudden pulse crashes into my mind—

Suffocating. Crushing.

My body slows. My balance breaks.

The creature grins.

Its blade swings. A wide, merciless chop—aimed to sever my head from my body.

But under my mask, my eyes glow.

A pulse targeting my mind.

Voices burst into my thoughts. Shouts—concern—Ayu?

No time to answer. But—

They don't need to worry.

Not about me at least.

How many times already? How many bosses? How many fights?

Always the same. Every. Fucking. Boss.

A pulse.

Was that your ace?

My body—seemingly broken, seemingly thrown off—straightens.

I push sideways, waves roaring through me, my boot cracking the ground from the sheer force behind it.

The chop misses.

Mere millimeters from my left shoulder.

I meet its eyes again.

Is that all?

Its failed swing left it wide open.

I stomp forward, dropping my left blade, gripping my right sword with both hands. My entire body coils, every muscle tensing, every ounce of weight driving into that singular thrust.

The creature tries to react—its waves press against me, trying to repel—

Too late.

My blade drives upward.

Steel pierces through flesh, through muscle, through bone.

From its lower jaw—

—out through its forehead.

The creature shudders. Its tails twitch, its legs falter, but it doesn't fall.

Not yet.

Its body trembles, waves flickering erratically, its strength failing. But its eyes—

They find mine.

It knows.

This is it. Nothing comes next.

The fight leaves its body, but for a brief instant, something lingers. A final glare.

Resignation.

Then—

The light fades.

Its body slumps.

It dies.

Then—

It vanishes.

Flesh, bone, blood—everything dissolves into nothingness. Even the dark streaks trailing down my arms disappear, erased as if they never existed.

It's over.

A wave of weakness crashes into me.

Overdrive has been turned down.

The pain registers all at once.

My jaw—searing, relentless, each pulse of agony stabbing through my skull. My muscles—strained past their limits, burning from the abuse. My mind—hammered, pounded, like a forge striking against the inside of my skull, blow after blow.

And my heart. It still beats fast—too fast.

But with every breath, every second, it slows.

Heartbeat after heartbeat.

My vision blurs at the edges.

I lower my gaze to my hands—dents and scratches mar my gauntlets, deep grooves where metal barely held together. My wrist throbs beneath the armor, the pain sharp, wrong.

Fractured. From the pommel strike.

Only now do I register it.

Footsteps.

Faint at first, but growing closer.

I turn, slow, heavy, and see them.

Ayu reaches me first. Her helmet retracts, revealing her pale, exhausted face—worn, drained.

I can imagine how she felt when she thought I was about to be beheaded.

I try to smile—

A jolt of pain stops me.

Right. Can't do that. Probably look like hell right now with my jaw hanging.

But Ayu doesn't care.

She steps forward, pressing her forehead against my chest.

I let out a breath, wrapping an arm around her.

Then, I look past her—

Chiara.

Her face is drained of color, but she's still standing. I notice the way she's sealed her wound, using the underarmor to stop the bleeding from her missing arm. Smart.

The others approach. Lukas. Imani. Arjun. Wang.

Then—

Realization slams into me.

The orbs.

My body jerks slightly, Ayu stepping back as I scan the ground.

But—

My eyes widen.

Not red.

Seven orbs lie at my feet.

Larger than usual, their surfaces shift and swirl—an ever-moving mist of gray and obsidian, twisting, bending around the core. Flickers of deep red pulse within, appearing and vanishing in an instant.

I hesitate for a moment, waiting as the others step closer.

"This is new," Lukas frowns.

"Let's just hope it heals," Chiara murmurs, her voice weak as she crouches, reaching out to touch one.

The moment her fingers make contact, the mist-like surface ripples—then the orb sinks into her skin, absorbed in an instant.

And sure enough, her left arm regrows instantly.

Armor repaired. Color returning to her face. The exhaustion vanishing as vitality floods back into her body.

But that's it.

She doesn't move.

No new equipment. No visible change beyond the healing.

We wait, but seconds pass, and she remains crouched, unmoving.

"Chiara?" Lukas asks.

Another second. Then, finally, she stands.

Her eyes—wide. Unfocused. Like she just saw a ghost or something.

She swallows hard, staring at the remaining orbs, their swirling depths reflecting in her gaze.

"Is everything okay?" Lukas presses.

Chiara exhales slowly. Then—

"Take the orbs. You'll understand."

We exchange glances.

One after the other, we reach out.

I press my fingers to mine.

And then—

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