Yardrach stood before our heroes, a figure of formidable resilience despite the blows he'd just endured from Saland and Haytham. A chilling declaration echoed from his lips, "You are the first to make me fight seriously, Singularity Thundering Storm!"
The very heavens seemed to respond to his words, the azure canvas above surrendering to an oppressive darkness. Then, a transformation. Yardrach shifted, his entire being bleached of color, becoming a stark white entity. His attire, his hair, even the very flesh of his skin now radiated a potent, otherworldly luminescence. The spears he wielded crackled with untamed energy, spitting forth bolts of lightning and arcs of raw electricity. His eyes, now pools of white with stark black pupils, fixed upon them. "Prepare yourselves," he intoned, his voice resonating with an impending power, "for I am the approaching storm."
Saland and Haytham, despite their own injuries, instinctively shifted into combat stances, their eyes locked onto the transformed foe. Without a moment's hesitation, Yardrach's gaze locked onto Saland, and he moved. It wasn't merely a dash; it was a blink, a near-teleportation that defied comprehension. Saland, for all his vaunted eye of foresight, was caught completely off guard. The sheer velocity of Yardrach's movement had rendered his precognition useless. He barely managed to raise his weapon to parry Null's initial, blindingly fast thrust, the impact jarring him backward. But Yardrach was relentless. With an impossible burst of speed, he vanished and reappeared behind Saland, a searing pain erupting in the swordsman's shoulder as Yardrach's weapon found its mark.
Saland grit his teeth, struggling to track the white blur that was now his adversary. A furious exchange erupted in mid-air, a whirlwind of clashing steel and crackling energy. Yet, Yardrach's enhanced speed was overwhelming. Twin strikes landed with brutal precision, one piercing Saland's other shoulder, the second tearing across his flank. With a grunt of agony, Saland crumpled to the ground, utterly helpless.
Yardrach's gaze then turned to Haytham, who stood frozen, his expression a mask of disbelief. The clash between Saland and their foe had unfolded at such an impossible velocity that Haytham's eyes hadn't even been able to register the individual movements. But the shock quickly morphed into grim determination. Haytham channeled his inner power, a dark, swirling energy coalescing around him, spitting forth malevolent sparks. Yardrach mirrored his stance, a silent challenge in his white gaze.
Haytham made his move. Time itself seemed to warp around him as he unleashed his speed, a blur of motion aimed at overwhelming Yardrach from multiple angles simultaneously. Yet, with an almost casual flick of his wrist, Yardrach parried each incoming strike. Then, with a surge of power, he unleashed a towering column of pure electricity, forcing Haytham to leap back. In response, Haytham drew his pistol, the barrel glowing with concentrated dark energy, and unleashed a massive beam. Yardrach met the attack head-on, crossing his twin spears and unleashing a counter-blast of pure lightning. The two energies collided in a cataclysmic explosion that shook the very ground beneath their feet.
Undeterred, Haytham pressed his attack, closing the distance with his own formidable speed. Yardrach met him halfway, a white streak aiming to end the fight. Haytham barely managed to deflect the blow, the force of the impact numbing his arm. But Yardrach was relentless. His other spear lashed out, catching Haytham off guard and sending him crashing to his knees. Before Haytham could recover, Yardrach delivered a kick of supersonic force, sending him sprawling across the sand.
Yardrach then turned his attention to Sylene and Sting, who stood side-by-side, their faces etched with a mixture of fear and resolve. Sting, despite a visible tremor in his hands, stepped forward, placing himself protectively in front of Sylene. "Now I am your opponent," he declared, his voice surprisingly steady, "you will never have her!"
Yardrach's lip curled in disdain. "You are but a gnat," he sneered, "I will swat you away without effort."
Sting's eyes flashed with defiance. "Oh, you think so? Then feast your eyes on this! A technique I honed after my defeat against Null. I call it... Shadow Tag! Now you'll see what I'm truly capable of!"
Sting took a deep stance, his white sword held ready. Beneath his feet, the golden sand seemed to writhe as countless shadows spread outwards, tendrils of darkness encircling Yardrach. A grim smile touched Sting's lips. Yardrach, confident in his superior speed, launched another blindingly fast attack. But just as Yardrach's spear was about to connect, Sting seemed to melt into the very shadows beneath him, vanishing into the darkness. He reappeared behind Yardrach, his white sword flashing in a swift arc. Yardrach, however, was not so easily surprised. He unleashed a furious barrage of strikes, his spears a blur of white. Yet, Sting danced within the shadows, reappearing and disappearing, each movement a near-miss, each reappearance a feinted attack.
"Not bad for an ability," Yardrach conceded, a hint of grudging respect in his tone, "but Null spoke of your weakness." With a sudden, decisive move, Yardrach plunged both his spears deep into the sand. A terrifying surge of electricity erupted from the ground, bathing the area in blinding light. Sting, caught within the field of energy while momentarily emerging from the shadows, was struck directly. Yet, even as he convulsed, he lunged forward, his white sword aimed at Yardrach's chest. But Yardrach was too quick. A powerful fist slammed into Sting's gut, sending him flying backward, unconscious.
Sylene, her face pale but her eyes blazing with determination, reacted instantly. Two ethereal bows materialized in her hands, and she unleashed a rapid volley of arrows, each tipped with the eerie glow of frozen fire. Yardrach, with effortless grace, parried each projectile with his spears, the clanging sounds echoing across the battlefield. Sylene danced backward, desperately trying to maintain distance, knowing it was only a matter of time before Yardrach's overwhelming power would close the gap.
Meanwhile, Haytham lay broken on the sand, his mind a whirlwind of self-recrimination. Why am I so weak? Why? The despair threatened to consume him, until a flicker of memory ignited within his consciousness. Kyofei's voice, calm and measured, echoed in his mind: "Haytham, you have only mastered half of your power for now. If you try to use it to its full extent, your body could suffer terrible consequences, not even I know what they are. Only do it if your life is in danger."
A surge of dark energy, far greater than before, erupted from Haytham's still form. With a speed that defied the eye, he shot to his feet, a black blur intercepting Yardrach just as the white figure was about to deliver the killing blow to Sylene. Haytham knelt, his arms raised, barely managing to deflect Yardrach's spear an instant before it would have struck. He rose slowly, his form now radiating an oppressive darkness. Lines of vibrant purple energy snaked across his jet-black skin, and his eyes burned with an intense crimson light, the pupils narrowed into predatory slits. "This," he declared, his voice a low growl, "is my Devil Rage Complete Form. Stay on guard, Glitch."
Yardrach, for the first time, took a step back, a flicker of unease in his white eyes. Before he could react, Haytham moved. A black streak against the white sand, he appeared beside Yardrach, a crimson line blooming on the white cheek. Yardrach, his initial surprise replaced by focused intensity, retaliated with a supersonic assault. But Haytham met his speed, black steel clashing against white spears in a furious exchange that blurred the senses. Haytham unleashed a blast of concentrated dark energy from his pistol, a black beam of pure destruction. Yardrach dodged, the beam tearing through the sand, creating a massive, earth-shattering explosion.
Saland, still prone on the ground, watched the desperate struggle unfold. "I can't give up now," he rasped, his voice barely a whisper, "my best friend is fighting alone." His body screamed in protest, every muscle aching, his energy reserves depleted. "I don't have much strength left, but I'll have to use... that technique. Stenly told me not to use it, but this... this is an emergency." With agonizing effort, Saland forced his twin swords into the sand, using them as leverage to pull himself to a shaky stand. A blinding, multicolored aura erupted around him, his very being radiating a chaotic energy. He took a peculiar stance, one leg forward, his back arched, the blades of his swords held outward. "This technique," he gasped, "it strains my body to its absolute limit... it pushes me beyond the speed of light. The technique is called... Spheres of Divine Light."
In that strained posture, Saland moved. It wasn't a dash; it was an instantaneous displacement, a movement that seemed to warp space itself. Yardrach turned, his white eyes widening in surprise as he saw Saland standing before him. But in that very instant, the multicolored aura vanished, and Saland's body slumped, returning to its battered, original form. Before he collapsed completely, a faint smile touched his lips. "I... did it..."
Neither Haytham nor Yardrach understood what had just transpired. But then, an impossible phenomenon occurred. Countless spheres of multicolored light materialized around Yardrach, each one pulsing with intense energy. Then, they detonated. Yardrach was engulfed in a maelstrom of light and force, a thousand invisible blades tearing through his white form. His regeneration, which had served him so well before, flickered to life. But Haytham, his crimson eyes burning with grim determination, would not allow it. He poured every last vestige of his dark energy into his left arm, the limb crackling with malevolent power. "With this strike," he growled, "I can even cut through dimensions! Dark Dimension-Cut Slash!"
With a single, devastating swing, Haytham unleashed a blade of pure darkness. It sliced through Yardrach's regenerating left arm as if it were butter, and the force of the blow continued, carving a deep, vertical chasm into the sand stretching for kilometers behind the white figure. The sheer exertion of the attack pushed Haytham beyond his limits, and he collapsed, unconscious.
Yardrach stared at his severed left arm, the white flesh no longer knitting back together. A look of surprised understanding crossed his face. "That was... surprising," he admitted, a hint of respect in his voice. "I expended more energy than I anticipated. But it is time... to finish my mission."
Sylene, her movements a desperate blur, darted across the battlefield, gathering the fallen forms of Saland, Haytham, and Sting. She positioned herself before them, her small frame a fragile barrier against the still-powerful foe. Yardrach shifted his stance, left leg forward, right leg back, his right arm drawn back as if preparing to hurl something. In his hand, a new spear materialized, larger and radiating an even more intense white light than its predecessors. A potent electrical aura crackled around him as he roared, "THUNDER JAVELIN!"
The white spear shot forth, a supersonic projectile aimed directly at Sylene. "Admin Mode Instal Frozen Fire!" she screamed, unleashing a massive arrow of crimson energy. The two projectiles collided in mid-air, unleashing an explosion of unimaginable force, a cataclysm equivalent to a thousand thousand thunderbolts. Sylene had erected a barrier of energy, but the shockwave slammed into her, leaving her wounded and gasping for breath. Saland and the others remained lost in unconsciousness.
A strange look of resignation crossed Yardrach's face. "So," he murmured, "I have lost..." His white form began to shimmer and fade, the energy that sustained him finally depleted from his ultimate attack. He cast one last look at the battered forms of our heroes. "In the future," he whispered, his voice fading with his form, "you will encounter opponents worse than me... stay on your guard... humans..." And then, Yardrach dissolved into the air, leaving behind a heavy silence. Our heroes had won, but the cost of their victory hung heavy in the air.