Chapter 1: The Old Man and the King
The sun was dipping below the jagged horizon, painting the sky with streaks of crimson and gold. Dust curled lazily around the uneven ground, disturbed only by two figures standing several meters apart, eyes locked in silent challenge.
One was an old man, bent but steady, his long, graying hair tied neatly behind his head. His clothes were simple—a worn robe and loose trousers—and on his feet, an unusual weapon: a pair of well-worn slippers. Despite his age, his posture was unwavering, radiating quiet confidence.
Facing him was the Chimera Ant King, Meruem, a towering figure of raw power and menace. His aura was a storm of golden light, immense and suffocating. He observed the old man with the curiosity of a scholar and the coldness of a predator.
Without a word, the old man shifted his weight forward and launched a swift kick, aimed squarely at Meruem's torso. The movement was fluid, a perfect blend of experience and intent.
Meruem's eyes narrowed and, with astonishing speed, he shifted his body just enough to dodge the attack. The old man's slipper, however, was not so easily controlled. It slipped free from his foot during the kick, spinning through the air with surprising velocity. The slipper struck Meruem's cheek with a sharp slap.
Meruem touched the spot, a faint smirk crossing his lips. "A slipper? You fight with such an… unconventional weapon."
The old man chuckled softly. "It's served me well enough over the years. The fight isn't just about power. It's about control, precision… and sometimes, a little bit of luck."
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Meruem took a step forward, his aura flaring. The heat of it was tangible, like a rising storm. "Your control is admirable, but your power will not suffice against me."
The old man didn't flinch. Instead, a faint silver light began to shimmer across his skin. Like a mesh of light armor woven from threads of pure aura, his body became encased in a shimmering, flexible armor.
"This is my Nen ability. An armor forged from years of training and restraint," the old man explained calmly.
"An armor," Meruem mused, "to protect a slow striker."
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Without further warning, Meruem launched himself forward, fists clenched and aura blazing. The ground beneath their feet cracked and splintered with the force of his advance.
The old man braced himself, raising both arms as the golden fist slammed into his aura shield. The armor absorbed the blow with a deep, metallic clang, vibrating with the impact.
"Strong," the old man acknowledged, "but not invincible."
He countered with a precise jab aimed at Meruem's ribs. The King dodged smoothly, but again, the old man's slipper flew off his foot—this time, spinning like a blade through the air—and nicked Meruem's shoulder.
"That slipper again," Meruem said, amusement flickering in his eyes. "It seems you have more tricks."
"Old habits die hard," the old man said with a slight grin.
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The fight settled into a rhythm. Meruem pressed the attack with increasing ferocity—fast, powerful blows backed by a relentless aura surge. The old man responded with steady, measured defense, parrying and blocking with his aura armor while strategically using his slippers as thrown weapons.
Each slipper strike was calculated, not just to wound but to test Meruem's reactions and openings.
"You are patient," Meruem commented after deflecting a spinning kick. "And wise. Most opponents throw everything at me from the start."
"I've learned over decades that the battle isn't won by rushing," the old man replied. "It's won by knowing when to strike, and when to hold."
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Meruem's aura flared higher, radiating like the midday sun. "Enough talk," he said, his voice low and heavy with menace.
He launched a series of rapid strikes, a flurry designed to break through the old man's defenses. The armor creaked under the assault, small cracks appearing where the aura thinned.
The old man gritted his teeth, raising a forearm to block a hammering blow. With a grunt, he pushed back, the aura armor flaring brighter and thicker around his chest.
"You think your armor will hold forever?" Meruem asked.
"It's not about holding forever," the old man said, "but about lasting long enough."
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Meruem's strikes slowed, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "Lasting long enough for what?"
The old man's gaze was steady. "For the moment to come."
Before Meruem could respond, the old man twisted sharply, using the momentum to throw both slippers spinning through the air—two razor-sharp discs flying in tandem.
Meruem moved to evade, but the old man had anticipated the direction perfectly. One slipper caught the King's leg, forcing him off balance. The other grazed his face, leaving a shallow cut.
The old man smiled faintly. "Momentum can be a weapon."
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Meruem shook off the sting and retreated a few steps, then raised his hand. Golden aura coalesced into a brilliant sphere, crackling with raw energy.
The old man raised his arms, his armor glowing silver-white as he prepared to absorb the impending attack.
The energy sphere exploded between them, sending a shockwave that tore up the ground and hurled dust into the sky. The old man's armor flared brightly, taking the brunt of the blast, but he held firm.
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Breathing steadily, the old man spoke without hesitation. "You possess incredible power, King. But I have something you may not understand."
Meruem regarded him quietly, eyes sharp. "And what is that?"
"Patience."
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The two circled, tension thick in the air.
Meruem's aura shifted, his body coiling like a spring ready to unleash. The old man's armor shimmered, threads of aura reinforcing every inch.
Meruem feinted left, then dashed right with blinding speed, closing the distance.
The old man met the charge head-on, their fists colliding in a thunderous clash that sent shockwaves rolling across the battlefield.
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"You fight with honor," Meruem said between strikes, "but I fight to survive."
"And I fight to pass on what I've learned," the old man replied.
They broke apart, each catching their breath.
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Meruem's eyes flicked to the slippers lying nearby. "You fight with slippers. How very… humble."
"Sometimes the simplest tools are the most effective," the old man said. "And sometimes, the simplest truths."
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The fight resumed with renewed intensity. Meruem unleashed a powerful barrage of aura-infused strikes, each one testing the limits of the old man's armor. The old man responded with calm precision, parrying and countering with slipper throws and controlled punches.
Despite the King's overwhelming strength, the old man's aura armor absorbed blow after blow, holding against the storm.
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"You are stronger than I expected," Meruem admitted, panting slightly.
"So are you," the old man said. "But this isn't about strength alone."
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They paused, eyes locked in mutual respect.
"I can feel your aura gathering," Meruem observed. "You prepare for a decisive move."
The old man nodded. "As do you."
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Both began to gather their aura, the air around them thickening with charged energy. The old man's armor glowed brighter, a molten silver sheen spreading across his body. Meruem's aura flared golden, pulsating like a beating heart.
They stood, ready to unleash their full power in a final clash.
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"The old man stood firm, his silver aura flaring like a dying star refusing to fade, while the King of Ants prepared to unleash a strike that could level mountains. Two titans, one battlefield… and only one moment left before the storm erupts!"
Next Time on Aura Legacy:
"Clash of Wills! Armor Meets Royal Wrath!"
Will the old man's unshakable defense hold against Meruem's overwhelming might? Or will the King claim yet another victory over humankind's finest?
Don't miss it!
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Thank you for read