MERCY
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
Explosions erupted around us like roars from the gods, the very terrain surrendering to our duel. Trees splintered into dust, boulders split like clay, and the atmosphere itself seemed to recoil from the sheer force of our clashes. Every blow we exchanged distorted the air, blurring the edges of our forms until even our shadows seemed to flee.
The Valgura was relentless.
This creature, an apex of primal evolution and mana fury, was fighting as if this battle were a sacred rite—a final stand worthy of legends. It wasn't just resisting death. It was honoring it. Honoring me, the opponent who had pushed it to its limits. Maybe it welcomed the end.
But I wasn't sure I could give it that.
My arms throbbed. Blood pooled around my knuckles. The fingers of my left hand were fractured—I knew without looking. Bone grinding against bone, nerves flaring with every block. But my grip didn't falter. Couldn't. My attention danced across the battlefield: terrain, the beast, Lucius—always Lucius—and my blade, Silvermoon, now far from my reach.
The Valgura wasn't just strong. It was learning.
Mid-fight, it adapted. It began using its size not just as power, but as strategy—keeping its wounded chest just out of reach, twisting, leaning, feinting. It moved with intelligence, mimicking knightly form with monstrous grace.
Still, an opening came.
Its massive arms spread a little too wide—a mistake. My instincts screamed. I lunged, fist cloaked in a fresh, condensed layer of water mana, aimed directly at its heart. Inches. Just inches. I was about to end this.
But the Valgura turned.
A sidestep.
Clean. Calculated.
Like a knight deflecting a lance.
"What—Sidestep!?" The realisation hit mid-air. My trajectory was now off. The beast, shifting sideways, now loomed on my left. Its combined fist rose like a warhammer, poised to strike me from the sky like a divine sentence.
I tried to adjust mid-flight. Useless. My body twisted, reflexively bracing. The beast's fist descended in slow motion—not because of time manipulation, but because my brain knew exactly what was coming. Reflexes can be cruel that way.
ZUP. ZUP. ZUP.
Three distinct arcs screamed across the sky, their sound too familiar. Mana projectiles. Straight as lance, concentrated—Lucius's style. The impact rocked the Valgura backward just in time, the shockwaves tossing me like a rag doll. I spun, wind rushing past, terrain blurring—my memory quickly mapping what was behind me.
"Trees. Stone pillars. At this speed, I'm as good as dead."
I funneled my mana to my back and armor, layering it as reinforcement. I braced for a bone-shattering crash.
But something caught me.
Not physically. Not visibly.
A presence.
A sensation—like air itself had hardened and wrapped around me, pulling my momentum into stillness. I hovered mid-air, held by something invisible yet deliberate.
My eyes snapped toward the source.
Lucius.
He stood amid the chaos, cloak tattered, breathing steady. His blade—Crimson Ultima—was in one hand, glowing faintly. His dominant hand was pointed directly at me. Not at the enemy. Not the terrain.
Me.
"What the hell is he doing?" I muttered, heart hammering.
The Valgura began rising again, its attention shifting. It saw Lucius.
Lucius didn't flinch.
He didn't even acknowledge it. His gaze stayed locked on me. That hand—slowly, deliberately—lowered.
So did I.
Gently. Controlled. As if gravity itself had obeyed his command.
"This was... him?" I wanted to deny it. But deep down, I knew the truth. That was no coincidence. He'd done something. Something terrifyingly precise.
More questions piled up.
How the hell is he awake already?
Why is he standing like that? So rigid… almost unnatural.
And how did he—
The beast charged.
Lucius, unfazed, flicked his wrist backward.
Instantly, that invisible force shifted—I was pulled toward him in a straight line, my feet still off the ground. Meanwhile, the Valgura barreled toward him, arms ready to smash, crush, devour.
Lucius vanished.
Not literally. But in a burst of motion that barely left an afterimage, he darted left—away from me—drawing the Valgura with him. It moved to intercept, placing itself directly between us.
"No—no you dumbass—!" I wanted to shout-curse. To warn him.
The invisible grip vanished just as I hit the ground, rolling once before planting my feet. As I prepared to rejoin the fight, Lucius lifted his arm—not to attack.
But to wave at me.
A mocking wave, almost casual, as if saying "You're welcome."
My eyes caught movement. Something fast, silver, familiar—
Silvermoon.
It was arcing through the air toward me, spinning. Too fast. But beautifully aimed. I didn't hesitate.
I lunged.
Caught it by the hilt mid-air, twisting my torso to absorb the force, the weapon now perfectly aligned for a mid-spin attack.
"Finally." I let the thought slip out, just as relief threatened to calm me.
That's when the Valgura struck Lucius again.
This time, Lucius had been distracted—his focus on my weapon, not his enemy. The beast's massive fist came down like a comet. Even from here, I felt the force behind it.
Lucius reacted just in time.
His blade rose, bracing the blow. The impact sent him flying like a cannonball, his body slamming into a tree. But instead of being flattened, Lucius stabbed Crimson Ultima into the earth mid-flight, dragging it through the soil. The friction slowed him down just enough to avoid fatal injury.
I was already moving.
Silvermoon gleamed in my grip, its weight now familiar again. The beast stood between us, panting heavily, wounds steaming. Its body was weakening.
This time, it wouldn't adapt.
This time, it wouldn't learn fast enough.
I channeled all the mana I had left into my legs, my core, my arms.
With Lucius buying the opening, with my blade back in hand…
This beast was as good as dead.
***
The beast, feral and twitching, launched another volley of arc-shaped mana attacks toward Lucius, its body snapping into position with alarming speed. But Lucius—ever alert—sensed the mana's build-up before the attack even fully manifested. His instincts flared to life. In the blink of an eye, he imbued his sword with a surge of mana, channeling it into a wide, sweeping slash. A vibrant curve of bluish energy erupted from the blade, crackling through the air like a crescent of pure intent. It met the incoming arcs with explosive force, dispersing them into harmless streams of residual energy.
The beast snarled, understanding now that ranged attacks would not serve it well. With little hesitation, it lunged, claws extended, muscles rippling with animalistic precision. It landed two or three meters away from Lucius with a thunderous impact, the ground cracking beneath its monstrous weight.
But the real threat was behind it.
High in the air, Mercy descended like a falling star. His double-bladed weapon shimmered with subtle, rippling mana, and his descent carried the weight of a judgment long overdue. The beast twisted mid-lunge, raising its nature-infused blade to intercept. Metal screamed against metal as Mercy met it mid-air. With supernatural balance, he stepped onto the beast's outstretched weapon, using it as a foothold to steady himself. The moment was frozen in time—until it shattered.
The beast began to retract its arm to retaliate, but it was already too late.
A sudden roar of mana erupted behind it.
"MANA ZONE: THE BURNING SWORDSMAN!"
The very air ignited. Flames burst around Lucius like a solar eruption. His sword—now wreathed in molten light—appeared less like a weapon and more like a divine verdict forged in the heart of a volcano. Lucius hurled the blade forward, flame trailing in its wake, targeting the exposed chest of the beast. The Valgura's attention snapped toward him, but the distraction cost it dearly.
The flaming blade impaled its chest, driving through muscle and mana-reinforced flesh like it was parchment. The beast let out a screech that rattled the branches of the forest canopy. Lucius, using the last dregs of his telekinesis, pulled the sword free and reclaimed it, striking again and again with fast, deliberate cuts. Each blow now bit deeper—his enhanced flames had found a way past the creature's natural armor.
Then Mercy moved.
"MANA ZONE: PRAISE AQUATROIUS!"
A tidal roar echoed through the battlefield. Mercy's mana signature flared blue, more alive than it had ever been. The very moisture in the air trembled and coalesced. A colossal sea-serpent-shaped form of water manifested above him before crashing down, encasing him in a living, serpentine armor. It wrapped around his limbs, solidified at his core, and took on the shape of an elegant, otherworldly armor. The water glistened like sapphire crystal, refracting mana-laced light into radiant, blinding spectrums.
Even to the naked eye, Mercy's power was now a storm contained—a deep ocean compressed into a warrior's form.
The beast, cornered and growing desperate, pounded its foot into the earth to vault backward, seeking space. But the foot it relied upon was already injured. Lucius's earlier strike had damaged it, and the pressure now caused the leg to buckle. The Valgura grunted in pain and faltered in its retreat.
Lucius, though depleted, forced himself into motion, his limbs screaming. He surged forward, closing the gap with a reckless dash, sword trailing embers behind him. He engaged again, fire clashing with claw, each strike sapping what little mana he had left. His body screamed for rest, but his spirit refused.
Mercy joined him. The two fell into rhythm: Lucius probing with flame-tipped jabs, Mercy striking with tide-carved precision. Their synergy was unspoken, fluid, and unrelenting.
Lucius's chest heaved. His vision began to tunnel. He had one last move left in him.
"Duck!" Mercy shouted.
Lucius didn't hesitate. He rolled to the side just in time to avoid the beast's counterblow. The maneuver left the Valgura momentarily open—an opening Mercy did not miss.
With a twisting, upward slash, Mercy used one edge of his double-blade to slice through the creature's shoulder. Flesh tore, bone snapped, and the entire arm was sent spiraling into the underbrush.
The beast howled in agony. It staggered.
Lucius steadied himself. His hands trembled as he channeled every last ember of flame into the tip of his sword. The weapon glowed red-hot, brighter and brighter, until it began to resemble a spear of concentrated sunlight.
Mercy circled to the opposite side. They were now perfectly aligned—one at ten o'clock, one at four.
The beast looked between them, unsure where the fatal strike would come from.
It didn't matter.
"PRAISE ODACIOUS!" Mercy intoned.
A wave of condensed water mana surged forward like a cannon blast, slamming into the beast's midsection. The impact pulverized ribs, crushed lungs, and tore through sinew.
Lucius followed.
He lost his own burning strike. The flame-laced energy hit the beast directly in the already-damaged chest, and this time, it didn't just cut—it ignited from the inside.
The Valgura screamed. Both its arms had now been rendered useless. Its once-proud horns shattered under the sonic booms of explosive impact. Cracks spread across its hide like fault lines.
Lucius collapsed to the ground with a hard thud. That was his last attack. He had nothing left.
Mercy stepped forward to finish the job. His movements were calm, deliberate, merciful in name, but not in action. With his double-blade, he began to slice the beast apart methodically, robbing it of its power inch by inch.
The Valgura tried to retaliate—but it was over. The once-mighty S-ranked creature could only roar in defiance as Mercy silenced it, blade through brain, sealing its fate.
Its final, primal scream echoed across the forest, then faded into stillness.
The S-ranked Valgura had fallen.
Two mages stood among the ruins—one barely conscious, the other blood-soaked but victorious.
And the forest was quiet once more, after a long night.