The air itself seemed to vibrate—dense, suffocating, alive with power.

  Lorde drew his sword fully from the portal. The black-edged blade pulsed with golden veins, each rune glowing like molten suns trapped beneath steel. As the weapon cleared the portal, the portal folded inward and vanished, leaving behind only a faint shimmer of warped space.

  He lowered the blade to his side, fingers brushing the flat edge. The runes throbbed in sync with his pulse. His golden aura flared.

  Across from him, Richard’s crimson Bravo ignited, waves rippling from his skin. He drew his own sword—a long, red Fortified blade that hissed as it met the air.

  For one breath, silence ruled.

  Then—

  BOOOOOOM!

  The street exploded. Stone burst outward in a shockwave as both vanished from sight, reappearing midair with blades colliding in a storm of sparks.

  The clash sounded like thunder splitting the heavens. Gold met crimson, and the impact sent a ripple through the entire city. Fortified rooftops crumbled; streets warped and folded under the force.

  Both were thrown back, landing in separate craters hundreds of meters apart.

  Richard wiped dust from his cheek and smirked. “Not bad… for a ghost.”

  Lorde rolled his shoulder, twirling his sword in a single smooth motion that cleaved the falling dust in half. “Ghost? Me? A Ghost?.” Lorde’s expression hardened.

  Richard blurred, vanishing from sight. He reappeared at Lorde’s flank, blade slashing down.

  CLANG!

  Lorde blocked without turning.

  BANG!

  Richard’s knee drove into Lorde’s ribs; Lorde’s elbow cracked against Richard’s jaw a heartbeat later. Both staggered back, boots carving molten grooves through the fortified stone.

  The city trembled—but held.

  Richard twisted, unleashing a crimson arc of energy that sliced through three empty towers. Lorde flicked his wrist—golden light flared into a barrier. The blast struck and disintegrated into harmless dust.

  He dashed forward. The ground split in his wake, glowing from friction and pressure.

  When he swung, the air itself cracked open.

  A golden wave tore across the skyline, meeting Richard’s counter-slash head-on.

  BOOOOOOOOM!

  The explosion lit the night—gold and red colliding in a starburst that shattered fortified windows for a kilometer in every direction.

  Through the chaos, Richard appeared above, descending fast. He drove his sword down, meeting Lorde’s defense mid-air. The impact sent Lorde crashing backward, gouging twin trenches as his bare feet slid through molten rock.

  Lorde’s body shimmered faintly—then disappeared.

  Richard barely had time to react before Lorde reappeared behind him, blade slashing upward. The strike grazed his cheek, carving a thin line that bled down his jaw.

  Richard’s expression darkened.

  Lorde twisted his grip, runes flaring brighter—the sword began to hum, alive and hungry.

  Richard’s aura erupted again, crimson energy spiraling like a cyclone around him.

  Then both vanished.

  What followed was chaos.

  Sonic cracks tore through the air in blinding succession—each collision a flash of color and violence that shattered sound itself. Towers buckled under invisible pressure; fortified streets rippled like disturbed water.

  The ground became a blur of destruction.

  CLANG! BOOM! CRACK!

  Shockwaves cascaded outward in rolling rings, hammering the city’s dome. Inside their protective bubbles, civilians screamed, clutching their ears as the force deafened even through layers of shielding.

  Lorde parried a downward strike, spun mid-air, and countered—a golden crescent slashing across the night.

  Richard met it head-on, his crimson energy detonating outward. The impact created a pressure ring that flattened everything within fifty meters.

  They landed at opposite ends of the shattered street, steam rising between them.

  Richard’s sword hissed, dripping energy like molten iron.

  Lorde stood still, steady, eyes calm beneath the storm.

  Richard’s voice cracked the silence.

  “HOW… ARE YOU THIS STRONG? YOU’RE JUST A SPIRIT — A GHOST!”

  Lorde’s eyes closed for a moment, jaw tightening. The word ghost echoed in his head—mocking, grating, unwanted.

  When he opened his eyes again, they burned with golden fire.

  Without a word, he launched forward.

  BOOM!

  The ground split beneath his feet as he vanished and reappeared before Richard, sword descending in a brilliant golden arc.

  Richard caught the blade on his own, sparks cascading as metal screamed against metal.

  Lorde didn’t relent.

  Strike after strike poured from him—fluid, furious, relentless. His attacks were no longer measured or precise; they were storms made flesh. Richard barely parried each blow, his boots gouging deeper into the fortified ground with every clash.

  They shot into the air—clashing again and again, streaking through the sky like dueling comets.

  CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!

  Lorde swung his sword in a wide horizontal slash, roaring as golden light erupted from its edge.

  The shockwave tore through the clouds, carving a massive crescent into the heavens.

  It hit Heful’s barrier.

  BOOOOOOM!

  The dome trembled—then cracked.

  A massive 150-degree gap split open, golden light bleeding through it before the entire structure began to destabilize.

  The energy flared violently, then vanished.

  The barrier was gone.

  Valerius, still at the edge of the city, felt the collapse instantly. His teeth clenched as he struggled to maintain the hundreds of millions of smaller protective bubbles surrounding the people.

  The air screamed as the pressure from the battle tore against his control.

  Every bubble shimmered, warping under the stress.

  Valerius dropped to one knee, shouting through the storm,

  “Lorde—take this fight away from here! I can’t hold it anymore!”

  Above, Lorde’s blade flashed one more time—

  SLASH!

  It ripped across Richard’s chest. Blood erupted in a crimson spray.

  Before Richard could react, Lorde’s fist followed.

  BOOM!

  The punch sent Richard crashing down, smashing through the city’s streets and leaving behind a crater ninety meters wide, and ten meters deep. The shockwave rolled outward, spiderwebbing cracks through Valerius’s barriers.

  He gritted his teeth, forcing them back into shape. The cracks faded slowly.

  Then—

  Lorde kicked off the air and dove straight down, sword aimed for Richard’s heart.

  The air screamed around him.

  But just as the strike descended—

  A portal tore open in his path.

  He vanished through it before he could stop.

  Lorde burst out the other side—over the endless ocean. He spun midair, disoriented, waves spiraling beneath him. “What the—”

  Another portal opened behind him.

  The pull was immediate and absolute.

  He was sucked in and gone.

  Back in Heful, Valerius’s body convulsed.

  His power faded. His skin turned back to normal, eyes reverting from void black to their natural green. His breathing was ragged, his body trembling from overuse.

  The bubbles around the city remained unaffected.

  All three hundred million people remained protected.

  Valerius fell to his knees.

  The farther his summoned champions were from him, the more energy it took to keep them in this realm—and Lorde had just been sent impossibly far.

  He tried to steady his breathing.

  ---

  Pain was a dimension in itself.

  Pungence knelt in the cratered palace ruins, his body a canvas of strain. Every muscle stood in stark relief, veins bulging like cables beneath his skin. A low, continuous groan rumbled in his chest, the sound of a mountain being torn from its roots.

  Above him, suspended in a crackle of violet energy, Jeriana watched with furious disbelief.

  "Damn it,"she hissed. "Why won't you just die? This is enough to kill anyone! Die already!"

  Pungence’s hand, touched the ground. The stone shattered.

  "No."The word was a promise, ground out between teeth locked in a vise of agony. He began to rise, an inch at a time, pushing against a weight that sought to crush his very soul. "I cannot allow this. This is my home. My people. I am their pillar. I cannot fall!"

  Sandra’s voice cut through the chaos, sharp with panic. "Jeriana! He's breaking free!"

  "He will not!" Jeriana screamed, her composure shattering. "Don't you dare stop! He won't break free! Not until the mission is done!"

  Pungence forced his head up, defying Oblivion Tongue.

  "As long..."he gasped, his body trembling violently, "...as I stand..."

  His knuckles were white, his spine arching against the invisible pressure.

  "No harm will befall them."

  He took a final, shuddering breath, and roared.

  "HAAAAAA!"

  The air detonated. A red shockwave—Fortis Bravo—erupted from his feet not as a shield, but as a tide. It washed over the broken palace, through the streets, and across the entire city. In an instant, every stone, every building, every last citizen was encased in fortification.

  This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

  From the sidelines, Dulgebar staggered, his face a mask of shock. "How is he doing this? This shouldn't be possible! He's in another dimension!"

  Jeriana whirled on another figure. "Mibuto! Aren't you keeping him in a time loop?!"

  Mibuto, sweat pouring down his face, grunted with effort. "I'm trying! He's resisting!"

  Then, a second roar tore from Pungence’s throat—deeper, more primal, a sound that shook the foundations of reality itself.

  Dulgebar cried out, clutching his head. "I can't hold him! I can't keep him in the other dimension anymore!"

  "DON'T YOU DARE STOP!" Jeriana shrieked, her voice raw. "They aren't done yet!" In a frantic motion, she pulled a vial of elixir from her robes, downed it in one gulp, and faced Pungence with renewed, desperate fury. "I don't care if you're the unstoppable weapon! Today, you will be stopped! By me!"

  She raised her hands, and the air grew cold. "This entire mission is riding on me! If I can't keep you here, I'm as good as dead! YOU! WILL! NOT! ESCAPE!"

  Her voice twisted into a guttural chant. "Verati Sketeli!"

  Pungence’s roar became a scream. The fortification flickered, wavered, and then disappeared. The protective shell on the city vanished.

  Jeriana laughed, the sound high and unhinged. "What's the matter, Pungence? Can't break free? Aren't you the world's strongest man? The unstoppable weapon?"

  "Jeriana, what are you doing? Stop it!" Mibuto yelled, a note of fear in his command.

  "He can't do anything!" she spat, her eyes wild with triumph. "Look at him! Even you, with all your power, Pungence... today you were powerless. Against me. Against Oblivion Tongue!"

  The energy intensified, forcing Pungence back to one knee. The stone beneath him turned to dust. For a moment, it seemed over.

  Then, a new voice emerged from the epicenter of the storm. It was not Pungence's voice of defiance, but something older, colder, and utterly beastly. It promised not victory, but annihilation.

  "I hear you."

  The words rolled through the ruins, silencing all else.

  "Your days... are numbered."

  ---

  Where Juval and his family stood, chaos had quieted for only a heartbeat.

  Then the world turned upside down.

  Or so they thought.

  In truth—it was Juval’s head.

  It tumbled from his shoulders in a slow, dreadful arc, eyes still open, lips frozen mid-command.

  For a moment, no one moved.

  Zeliona’s breath caught in her throat.

  Juvian and Isabela froze, eyes wide in disbelief.

  Behind Juval’s falling body stood Omfry.

  His expression was no longer mocking, no longer playful. His right arm hung extended, crimson light glimmering across his fingers—the hand that had cleaved through Juval’s neck as if through paper.

  His eyes burned—not with joy, but anger.

  Juval’s body hit the ground with a dull thud.

  Omfry kicked it forward; the corpse slid to Zeliona’s feet.

  “JUVAL!” Zeliona’s scream tore through the night.

  She dropped to her knees, catching his body in trembling arms. Her cries were hoarse, broken, unending.

  Andrea roared and launched forward, trying to fortify her fists. She struck Omfry square in the jaw.

  Her hand shattered.

  She gasped, staring at the mangled bones jutting from her knuckles. “What—?!”

  Her bravo was gone. The purple gas had sealed every Vitalis pathway in her body.

  Omfry looked at her, expression cold. Then he swung once—casually.

  CRACK.

  Andrea’s head flew from her shoulders, spinning through the air before landing several meters away. Her body remained standing for a brief, awful second, then collapsed beside Omfry’s feet.

  Zeliona’s wails deepened, her tears soaking the bloodied stone.

  Omfry turned toward her, his gaze unflinching.

  She rose, fury burning in her eyes.

  Omfry vanished.

  He reappeared in front of Zeliona, one hand closing around her throat.

  He lifted her into the air, her feet kicking uselessly.

  Then his hand plunged forward, straight through her abdomen.

  Blood streamed down his arm, hot and heavy.

  Zeliona’s scream was soft, strangled. Her eyes dimmed as he let her fall.

  “Mother!” Juvian and Isabela shouted in unison.

  Juvian reached out with a trembling hand. His magic—nothing. The earth didn’t move. His vitalis pathways were blocked. He was powerless.

  Isabela charged, rage blinding her.

  Her blade crashed against Omfry’s neck—

  BANG!

  It stopped cold. Not even a scratch marred his skin. There was no power in her strike. Her vitalis pathways were blocked.

  She screamed and swung again and again, each strike ringing like metal against stone. Omfry didn’t even glance at her.

  Then—swish.

  He swung his arm lazily.

  The wind split.

  Isabela froze, mid-swing. For a heartbeat, nothing happened.

  Then her torso slid from her hips and fell. Blood splashed across the cobblestone.

  Juvian trembled, unable to breathe, unable to scream. His knees gave way.

  Omfry turned to him next.

  But before he could move, a blur of motion caught his eye.

  Mercy.

  She had already moved—faster than thought. Faster than she had ever moved. Her bracelet shining in the chaos, she had snatched baby Zelion from Zeliona the moment Gozay’s head met the ground.

  Mercy ran.

  Her heart pounded. She didn’t look back. She couldn’t.

  Omfry’s crimson eyes tracked her across the street. He vanished again—appearing before her in an instant.

  Mercy stumbled, falling backward, clutching Zelion tightly against her chest.

  “Please,” she begged, tears streaking her face. “Please don’t harm us—he’s just a baby!”

  Omfry looked down at her.

  Mercy had never met someone of another race. For the first time in her life, Mercy understood what true fear was.

  His crimson form towered above.

  To her, he looked like a demon.

  ---

  Omfry swung his arm with lethal speed—

  but before his fist could strike, a brilliant flash of light erupted.

  BOOM!

  The blow rebounded. A shimmering barrier had formed around Mercy and the child.

  Omfry staggered a step back, eyes narrowing.

  Mercy stared at the translucent wall encasing her, heart pounding. The light was soft—familiar.

  She looked down at her wrist.

  Her bracelet glowed like a small star.

  And then she remembered.

  Months ago—her birthday.

  Eryndor had smiled shyly as he handed it to her. “It’s not much,” he’d said, “but it will shield you in my absence.”

  Her lips trembled. Eryndor…

  Omfry growled low in his throat. “Don’t piss me off more than I already am.”

  He struck the barrier again.

  BANG.

  The light didn’t falter.

  Again.

  BANG!

  Again.

  BANG!

  Each hit was absorbed without a ripple. Not even a tremor escaped the field.

  Omfry’s face twisted. He hit again, harder—until his hands blurred. The barrier flashed brighter with each impact, holding strong, humming like a bell under divine strain.

  Then—

  Cracks of light ran through the dome like veins of glass.

  Omfry stopped, breathing hard, chest rising and falling with rage.

  He braced himself, spreading his fingers. Red Bravo coiled around his arm, spiraling into his hand, concentrating in his fingers.

  He thrust his arm forward.

  The barrier rippled—he struggled as his hand began to sink through it, like piercing the surface of water.

  Mercy’s eyes widened.

  “...No…” she whispered, clutching baby Zelion close.

  Omfry’s other hand followed, slipping through. He began to tear the barrier apart.

  “Stop!” Mercy cried, her voice breaking. Tears streamed down her face as she held the child tighter.

  Omfry reached through the opening, his hand seizing her arm—

  and crushed.

  CRACK!

  Mercy screamed, agony ripping from her throat. “AAAHHHH!”

  Omfry tore the barrier wide open and pried Zelion from her hold. She fought to keep him, sobbing, “No… please, no!”

  Omfry looked down at the infant. The baby blinked at him—then giggled.

  Omfry actually paused.

  A faint smile tugged at his lips. His anger vanished.“laughing?” he murmured. “Babies really don't know what happens around them.”

  Then—his smile vanished.

  The air split beside him.

  A blur.

  Ziraiah.

  Her fist streaked toward his head.

  Omfry’s eyes shifted.

  In an instant, he fortified his body and side-stepped, the world slowing around him. He stared at Ziraiah.

  His counter was merciless.

  He raised his arm and punched upward.

  His hand tore through her abdomen and burst out her back.

  Ziraiah froze—eyes wide, a silent gasp leaving her lips before she vomited blood.

  “ZIRAAAAIAH!” Eryndor’s voice roared from afar, raw and broken.

  He shot forward, running through the rubble. He slammed his fist into Omfry’s face—

  CRACK!

  His hand shattered on impact. Bones split through skin.

  A shockwave blasted outward.

  ---

  To Be Continued...