Derrick's hand tightened around his sword, veins flexing like cords under his skin. Avin watched in guarded silence, the low hum of the marketplace dying behind him, replaced by the suffocating stillness of the alley. He drew his own sword with a metallic hiss that cut through the air, his body instinctively falling into a ready stance. The cold edge of the blade gleamed faintly under the fractured sunlight that barely reached them between the rooftops.

Then it happened.

Derrick's body started to change. His muscles twitched first, then swelled, veins crawling and pulsing like something alive beneath his skin. One by one they bulged, thick and dark, webbing across his arms and neck like molten wires. His eyes turned bloodshot, pupils narrowing to slits that glimmered with something feral.

"What the hell…" Avin muttered under his breath, watching in disbelief.

But it didn't stop there. Derrick's chest expanded with every heave; bones creaked audibly, the sound rough like wood splitting under strain. His shoulders broadened, his arms stretching until the seams of his shirt screamed. Threads snapped. Then came the sound of fabric tearing, sharp and sudden. His clothes shredded apart, sleeves splitting at the seams, his pants tearing from thigh to knee as his frame grew larger and larger. His breathing turned heavy—inhumanly deep—each exhale carrying a faint growl that reverberated through the narrow walls.

Avin's expression darkened. "What the fuck have you done to yourself?"

Derrick's lips pulled back into a grin that didn't look human anymore. His voice came out gravelly, deeper, layered with something monstrous. "I could always do this," he said, laughing low and rough. "I just didn't want to kill you on school campus."

Avin narrowed his eyes, confusion twisting through him. "You weren't trying to kill me then?"

He shifted his stance, one hand tightening on his sword's grip. Mana pulsed through his veins and gathered into his arm, the blade reacting like it had been waiting for the signal. The steel shimmered faintly, then its shape began to shift—elongating, hardening, and glowing into a radiant golden hue that almost hummed. Sparks of energy danced along its edge.

"So what?" Avin said coldly. "You were trying to make me invisible then?"

Derrick chuckled, low and mocking—but there was no more warning after that. His hand twitched, his grip on his sword tightening until his knuckles whitened. Then, without a word, he swung.

The blade came down like a hammer from the heavens.

Avin barely saw it coming. Instinct pulled his body backward, one step—just one—and the strike slammed into the ground where his head had been a heartbeat before. The air itself screamed with the impact. A violent wave burst outward from the sheer force, sending dust and broken stones flying. The shockwave alone blasted Avin back several meters, knocking him off balance. He slid across the cobbled ground but somehow managed to stay on his feet, sword held tight in trembling hands.

His eyes widened, heart thundering. "Are you on drugs?" he snapped, half disbelief, half anger.

Derrick stepped forward slowly, and wherever his foot landed, the stone dented. Cracks spiderwebbed from under his boots. "What are you talking about?" he asked, grin widening. "This is all me."

Then he blurred.

One blink—and he was right in front of Avin.

Avin dropped low, ducking on reflex. The blade cut through the air above his head, fast enough to part a strand of his hair. The wind that followed the swing howled, slicing past his ears. He could feel the heat of Derrick's movement, a streak of pressure in the air that burned like friction itself. The sun above angled through a broken part of the wall, catching Derrick's crimson eyes—reflecting the light like shards of blood.

Another swing came from the side—then another from above. Avin threw himself to the left, shoulder brushing the wall, feeling the air tear beside him as the blade cut through space. He still couldn't keep up. Derrick moved too fast—faster than the eye could follow. Even the faint transparent trails that hinted at his next movement, the ones Avin usually relied on to predict attacks, were gone. It was like fighting pure chaos.

He dodged again, this time barely making it in time. The sword carved into the brick behind him, the force bursting the wall into pieces. Rubble rained down, chunks of dust and debris hitting the ground with dull thuds. Avin tried to catch his breath but had none left. The alley was too narrow—too tight to move freely—and every dodge felt closer than the last.

[Three swings as directed]The next strike came diagonally, Derrick's roar echoing off the walls. Avin spun out of the way, feeling the gust tear across his chest and pull at his coat. The blade struck the ground beside him, cracking the cobblestone like glass. Shards jumped up, slicing shallow cuts along Avin's arm. He gritted his teeth and stepped back, sweat dripping down the side of his face.

The second came a heartbeat later. Derrick swung horizontally, the massive sword whistling through the air like thunder in motion. Avin twisted, pressing his back flat against the wall, the edge missing him by inches but cutting deep into the stone. The wall shook. A chunk of it split and fell off, crashing near his foot. The sound was deafening, dust spraying into his face.

Before Avin could even blink, the third strike was already coming. Derrick brought his blade overhead, both hands gripping it, veins bursting from his arms. Avin moved, but he was a fraction too slow this time. The ground trembled when the weapon hit, the force sending a shock through the cobbles and up Avin's legs. The blast knocked him backward onto one knee. His sword clattered against the ground beside him, his breath rough, chest heaving.

The air was thick with smoke, dust, and the heavy stench of sweat and metal.

Derrick grinned like a monster enjoying the hunt. He lifted his sword, resting it over his shoulder. Then the blade started to glow — a deep, corrupted crimson. Dark red smoke seeped from it, swirling and coiling around his arm like living mist. The aura thickened, pulsing in rhythm with Derrick's heartbeat.

Avin could feel the mana from it even at a distance. It felt wrong. Heavy. Almost alive.

Derrick smirked. "This is the end."

He raised his sword high and swung downward with all his strength, the air distorting from the pressure alone.

Avin looked up, chest pressed to the wall behind him. There was nowhere to go. Nothing left to do. The alley was boxed tight; both sides were blocked by ruin. The incoming strike glowed bright in his eyes, a flash of death descending. For a moment, everything slowed. His heartbeat echoed in his ears like a drum. He took a deep breath, calm flooding in where panic should have been.

He'd been here before—too many times. Trapped. Cornered. Certain he wouldn't make it. But experience whispered what fear tried to drown out: there's always a way. Always.

He had to find it.

The sword's shadow stretched over his face. Inches away now. He didn't think. He didn't plan. His instincts screamed, and he obeyed.

He gathered every ounce of mana left in him. Every flicker. Every spark. He drew it down, flooding it through his legs. His calves tensed, muscles tightening like springs about to snap. He exhaled sharply—then let go.

The world exploded.

A shockwave of energy burst from under his feet as he launched upward, body shooting straight into the air like a released arrow. His boots cracked the cobblestone under them, the impact leaving a small crater as the red-tinged sword slammed into the ground where he had been. The alley shook violently, the blow so strong it made the walls tremble and crumble. Dust erupted in thick clouds.

Avin caught the edge of the rooftop, swinging himself up, breathing hard. Below, the ground had fractured—broken in a wide, jagged circle. Derrick stood in the center of it, a crater spreading from his feet. The entire section of the alley seemed to sink slightly, pebbles still rolling from the aftershock.

Derrick's eyes flicked around, scanning. Avin was gone.

He turned his head left, then right. "Where the hell—"

Then he looked up.

Avin was already descending, sword gripped tight, falling fast. Gravity and mana pulled him downward like a spear aimed straight for Derrick's chest. His blade glinted gold in the dim light, his body spinning slightly to add force to the strike.

Derrick reacted instantly. He clenched his fist, muscle snapping tight.

And before Avin could hit, Derrick slammed a punch straight into his stomach.

The blow landed with a brutal thud.

Air burst out of Avin's lungs. The pain was instant and overwhelming. His body folded around the hit as if he'd been rammed by a boulder. The force threw him backward, rolling across the ground. The impact rattled through his ribs — he could feel some crack under the pressure. His stomach cramped, his throat burned, his entire torso screamed.

He hit the ground hard and coughed, a harsh, raw sound scraping his throat.

Then—Thump. Thump. Thump.

The ground shook rhythmically. Each step heavier than the last. Derrick was coming.

Avin barely had time to breathe. He pressed a hand against his ribs, groaning through clenched teeth, and forced himself to stand. "Shit," he hissed under his breath. He couldn't afford to stop. Not now.

He raised his sword with both hands, knuckles whitening, arms trembling slightly from the pain. His mind flickered, pulling up an image — a familiar stance, one he'd seen before. The prince. That same poised readiness, that moment before a strike that defined precision and control. He mimicked it almost unconsciously, shifting his weight, adjusting his grip.

He exhaled, shoulders lowering.

His mana stirred again, wild and uneven, but he forced it into focus. He poured everything he had left into it. The energy moved down through his legs and into his sword, a surge of blue light wrapping the hilt, then the blade, flickering in and out like lightning on the verge of burning out.

He swallowed hard, doubt crawling at the back of his throat. He didn't know if this would work. He didn't even know if he had enough left to make it count. But he had no other option.

He roared under his breath and released it.

Mana exploded behind him, bursting into a wave of propulsion that sent dust flying. The surge boosted his movement so fast his own vision blurred. In one heartbeat he was standing, and in the next, he was already right in front of Derrick, sword mid-swing.

The hit came out of pure instinct. Derrick reacted just in time, moving to block — but his weapon wasn't ready for the impact.

Avin's golden blade crashed into it.

A metallic crack echoed, loud and sharp.

Derrick's sword shattered in half.

The upper fragment spun through the air, glinting once before clattering against the alley wall and falling lifeless to the ground. Derrick stumbled back, slamming into the wall behind him with enough force to leave a dent.

Silence fell, broken only by the sound of Avin's ragged breathing. Dust drifted through the faint sunlight filtering above them.

Avin stood frozen, staring at Derrick, then down at his own sword. The glow pulsed faintly in his grip, golden light dancing across its edge. His voice came out low, stunned, almost amused.

"…Oh shit."

Next chapter will be updated first on this website. Come back and continue reading tomorrow, everyone!

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.