CHAPTER 22 : OVERHEAT ENGINE

A fleeting flash of white light shot through the air. Beautiful, and ethereal, it is a sight easily mistaken for a shooting star. The artificial power of a suit of mineral and electricity, a loud sound erupted after.

The sound of what can be mistaken for an explosion is heard. Yet it was not the detonation of flesh, but rather the splintering of wood that had made the sound. As the so-called celestial body divulged, it revealed its true nature. Not a gift of the heavens, as much as he thought it was, it was in fact Lucius who had saved them.

In overdrive, the half-elf had converted the electricity in his backup battery to pure power. Supplementing his boots, it had enabled him to speed through the air at a speed so expeditious it seemed unreal.

Staggered slightly, Lucius turned to look at the crowd below him.

“I better not see this on OurTube.”

The people, who understood him to be their savior, cheered.

Filled with pride he soaked in his newfound attention. His greatest faculty undoubtedly his osmosis of ego, he flexed with a pose, before he casually tossed the tree aside. Any thoughts that pertained to Harux having left his mind, it was only through the signalling of his being through pointed gestures did he remember.

Gauntlet pointed to the incoming limb, the mechanism for firing is activated.

Click. Nothing happened.

Today being the first of many things, it was also today that Lucius came to understand the concept of ‘overheating’ at first hand. His batteries, expunged of their energy and unable to supply the power necessary for his gauntlets, ceased to be of use.

Well, it can’t be helped. What plans there were to thwart the monster was all up to Harux.

Empathetic to his cause, Lucius watched the upcoming finale.

Only if he knew that Harux would not have it any other way.

In the next moment, Harux was a blur. His sword was held in his left hand, and his strategy was speed.

A smear of swordsmanship and power, his figure became a blur. Time seemed to freeze. The enemy was now engaged in their attack.

All of the blows came now. Rather than attack one by one, the arms and legs were launched at the same time. A last ditch effort, it was one that sacrificed stability for the sake of power. The balance of the creature gave way to air, as it began to fall.

At this moment, Harux’s next step is misplaced. Slip. It seemed that he would trip over. Harux’s eyes widened as he observed his situation. There didn’t seem to be an escape.

At approximately the same time, the limbs seemed to cover every angle. Every nook and cranny, every particle even, crushed. As if a vacuum devoid of air would be all that was left in its wake.

The idea of prevailing was inconceivable to the audience present. It gave the impression that the end had arrived.

They, of course, were not Harux. And as far as Lucius was concerned, Harux was a being much more similar to a primate if anything else.

Hope and victory still in sight, the elf did not for once falter.

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It's fine if his foot was misplaced, after all, he is not a creature that relies solely on his feet.

Arm thrusted forward, his energy is diverted into it for the sake of mobility.

A single blindspot was all he needed, and a single blindspot was what he saw, a final burst of energy in his body, he lunged forward.

It was an impossible win by any standard. That’s right, he would just be crushed, and the battle would be over. Special as he may be, it was nothing short of impossible. Nothing short of impossible to all but one in the crowd.

“YOU CAN DO IT!” A lone voice cried out. Encouraging yet desperate, it belonged to the previously-mentioned Charlotte. Her composure lost, she could not bear the despair that had surrounded her.

It had never occured to the others that Harux would win. Without hope, all they did was look on in disappointment and pity. They had the impression that strong as he was, he was no Paladin of Gansgrude, no mage of the Forbidden Tower, no monk of Idokan mountains, and they were right.

All he was was Harux Y'saanith. The Elvish pretty-boy who would be crushed into bits and pieces.

If Harux was none of these things, then how could they know if he stood a chance or not? To them all, he was a nobody, somebody conceived out of nothingness, and somebody that would return to such. This was his second day at school, and without any substantial feats prior to the battle accounted for, accurate assessments could simply not be made.

But to Charlotte it did not matter, even if there was no evidence, no proof, no one to attest to his brilliance, she did not care. Harux had tried his best, and nothing could convince her otherwise.

And so she yelled again.

And soon, she was not alone in this sentiment. For the lone girl's voice, albeit as insignificant as it was amidst the crowd of dozens, proved to be the spark that would set the hearts of the people ablaze.

“YOU CAN DO IT!”

In the next chant, even more people joined in, Morgana who was still tied to a tree, the lunch lady, the reporter who had harassed Lucius, one of Tommy’s goons that had also harassed Lucius, and the final goon that had given Lucius a dirty look that he felt was unwarranted all made their voices heard.

For even if the hope they clinged on to was naught but a chimeric dream, it was a commendable one. The people wanted to believe, they still wanted to see the hero win, to surpass all odds and vanquish evil, to witness the revelation of a miracle found only in fantasy. And they did.

Harux’s body flew. If he cannot run on this uneven terrain, then why tether himself to it in the first place? He looked forward, and as he propelled, his dagger did too. Fwish. His killing weapon is launched. A direct projectile, it slipped through the crevices of the upcoming flesh. Like a needle through thread, the precision demanded is impeccable. One second away from hitting the crystal, the attack landed.

Crk. Small cracks formed. Like broken webs upon damaged glass. Succeeding, the demon retracted its attack for an instant. And in that instant, with the entirety of his body weight, Harux punched the blade.

Further in, greater wedges formed, and with a final punch, the crystal shattered into a thousand pieces.

The lifeline of the creature gone, the battle was finished.

With a final display of acrobatics, Harux made a backwards leap. No different from the moves of a beautiful acrobat, he has mesmerized the crowd.

His trusty scimitar in hand once again, he made a flourish of his blade. Like a brush, a stroke of black blood leapt from his blade. Touche. Without its crystal to sustain it, the creature which possessed neither spiritual nor physical integrity simply collapsed.

Spewing snow up into the air, the crowd was moved.

Erupting in cheers and salutations, they did not recall the last time they had seen such a show.

Yet excited as they were, they could not bring themselves to approach.

His eyes still on the monster, Harux breathed and kept watch. According to his master, what would await would be the departure of its material form. The soul returned to whence it came, the link between its contractor was now dismissed.

In a few more moments, the creature would be all but a memory. Dissolved into ash, they were carried away by the winds of winter, no harvestable meat in sight.

Any indication of its existence gone, Harux gazed at the spot of its death with disappointment. His dream of examining its gourmet potential is now crushed. Akin to a child having its toy taken, Harux would then stare at the ground with no particular objective in mind.

“Man, I guess I’ll have to try it some other time.” He mumbled in his native tongue.

Harux who still longingly sniffed the air for a whiff of the demonic meat, sighed.

Prepared to leave, he is stopped by the instinct of his body.