The alpha's next strike came faster than physics should allow, its claws tearing through space with unnatural speed. But Blake was already moving, [Unfettered Stride] carrying him up and away on paths only he could see. The ability sang through his muscles as he launched himself skyward, riding mana-forged platforms that shimmered briefly in the air before dissolving.
[Warden's Insight] painted tactical lines across his vision—vectors of attack, probability corridors, structural weak points all blazing like neon in the darkness. The alpha's wound pulsed with that same steady rhythm: one-two-three, pause. One-two-three, pause. Each beat sent ripples through reality, distorting space in concentric waves.
Blake's knife pulsed its own subtle rhythm in his grip as he channeled mana through it, trying to match that alien frequency. The blade trembled, reality warping around its edge in a pale imitation of the wound's distortion. Not quite right, but closer. He just needed to—
The alpha's tail whipped through the air beneath him, reality twisting around it in nauseating waves. Blake twisted mid-leap, barely avoiding the strike. His boots found purchase on another mana platform; this one angled to launch him directly at the creature's flank.
"Getting better," Chimera commented as Blake shot forward. "The spatial warping is starting to stabilize. Try to—"
The beast pivoted with impossible speed, its massive form moving through space in ways that defied natural law. Blake's attack met empty air as the alpha seemed to slide sideways, leaving only rippling afterimages in its wake.
Shit.
Blake rode the momentum of his missed strike, letting [Unfettered Stride] carry him past the creature in a controlled tumble. He hit the ground rolling, came up in a crouch, and immediately had to throw himself sideways as massive claws raked through the space where he'd been.
Pain lanced through his side where the earlier blow had cracked his ribs, but Blake pushed it down, letting pure Willpower keep him moving. The attribute thrummed through his system like a bass note, raw and powerful. Each breath hurt like hell, but his body responded with machine-like precision, refusing to falter.
"Watch the ripples," Chimera advised sharply. "The distortions telegraph where it's going to appear."
Blake's eyes narrowed as he studied the air around the alpha. She was right—each time it used that unnatural movement, space bent and buckled in distinct patterns. [Warden's Insight] began mapping those distortions, breaking them down into predictable vectors.
The creature lunged again, reality warping around its form. But this time, Blake saw it coming. He read the ripples in space like a soldier reading terrain, understanding exactly where the attack would land. [Unfettered Stride] flared to life as he created a complex network of mana platforms—some solid, others deliberately fragile.
The alpha's massive form emerged right where Blake predicted, its claws slashing through a false platform that shattered like spun glass. The beast's momentum carried it forward into the trap, its weight crushing through two more decoy platforms before finding solid ground.
That single moment of imbalance was all Blake needed.
He launched himself from a higher platform, knife angled for a precise strike. The blade sang through the air, trailing distortions that almost—almost—matched the pulse of the alpha's wound. One-two-three, strike. The knife bit deep into cybernetic flesh just below the creature's shoulder, and this time Blake pushed mana through the blade in a concentrated burst.
Space twisted around the point of impact, reality buckling inward before snapping back like a rubber band. The alpha's roar of pain shook the debris field as the strike created a pocket of compressed space inside its body, tearing muscle and circuitry from within.
"Yes!" Chimera's excitement flooded their link.
Blake didn't waste breath responding. He was already moving, riding momentum and mana-forged paths in a complex dance of attack and evasion. Each strike brought him closer to matching that alien rhythm, his blade leaving tears in reality that pulsed in harmony with the wound.
The alpha thrashed and snarled, its movements becoming more erratic as internal damage mounted. But something else was happening, too—the wound in its chest was reacting to Blake's attacks, its sickly light flaring brighter with each resonant strike.
"You might want to slow down," Chimera reported. "You're burning through mana."
He checked. 48%.
Blake's mind raced as he wove through the creature's defenses, letting [Warden's Insight] guide his blade to weak points and vulnerability. Each successful hit built on the last, creating a cascade of spatial distortions that tore at the alpha from the inside out.
He checked his mana again. 40%. Chimera was right, he was bleeding mana at the same rate he was bleeding the beast. Not good.
Worse, the beast was learning, too. Its movements became more precise, more calculated, as it began to harness the very power that was killing it. Reality bent and twisted around its form in increasingly complex patterns, making it harder to predict where attacks would land.
A massive paw swept through space at an impossible angle, catching Blake mid-leap. The impact sent him spinning through the air, his ribs screaming in protest. He managed to create a hasty platform to break his fall, but the landing was rough, jarring through his already battered body.
38%. The mana platforms weren't cheap.
Willpower surged through his system like molten steel, forcing him back to his feet even as his muscles trembled with exhaustion. The attribute resonated with something deeper—that core of stubborn defiance that had carried him through a lifetime of fighting. Pain was just information. Fatigue was a suggestion. He had a job to do.
"You're getting better at using your mana abilities," Chimera noted, her voice tight with concentration. "Clearly, you learn best by way of extreme violence. But this is turning into a race, and your tank will run out faster than his."
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
Blake spat blood and adjusted his grip on the knife. The blade hummed with gathered power, reality distorting around its edge in perfect time with the wound's pulse. One-two-three, pause. One-two-three, pause. The rhythm was burned into his bones now.
"I can do this," he said aloud, as much for his own benefit as Chimera's.
The alpha gathered itself for another charge, space warping around its massive form like heat waves off summer stone. Its cybernetic components whined and sparked, overtaxed by the strain of containing so much spatial distortion. The wound in its chest blazed like a dying star, each pulse sending waves of reality-bending force through the battlefield.
Blake let out a slow breath and reached for his core, drawing deep on every attribute at his disposal. [Willpower] gave him the strength to keep fighting. [Resonance] helped him match the wound's frequency. [Awareness] and [Perception] worked through [Warden's Insight] to map every distortion, every probability.
And [Unfettered Stride]... that was the keystone of his survival. It wasn’t just about speed or agility anymore, not simply a tool for scaling walls or clearing gaps. No, it had always been more than that, hadn’t it? Subtly, almost imperceptibly, Stride had been bending space around him from the very beginning. The mana coursing through the ability didn’t merely fuel his movements—it rewrote the rules of his interaction with the world.
He thought back to the first time he’d felt it. The way gravity’s grip seemed to loosen, letting him hang in the air just a moment longer than physics should allow. How his feet found impossible purchase on slick surfaces, the spell-like weave of friction keeping him steady where others would have fallen. Over time, he’d come to trust it, that barely-noticed hum of mana threading through his every step. It wasn’t just movement; it was manipulation—space yielding to his intent, bending just enough to make the impossible possible.
He knew the feel of his mana through the skill. He could use that knowledge. Bend it. Forge the shield that had been keeping him alive into the blade that would secure his victory.
His entire being, attributes, abilities, even his class, all of it was directed toward victory. Not survival—winning.
The weight of it settled over Blake like an old friend's embrace. Death had been riding his six for going on thirty years now, through more firefights and desperate extractions than he cared to count. She was patient. Inevitable. And somewhere along the way, he'd stopped fighting her shadow at his shoulder.
In the dark hours before dawn, his thoughts would drift to the others she'd claimed instead of him. Fresh-faced privates who'd trusted his orders. Civilians who never asked to be caught between bullets. An innocent young girl in Kabul.
He'd earned death's attention more than any of them. Hell, he'd practically sent her engraved invitations.
But if death wanted him, she'd have to work for it.
The sensation tingled through Blake's nerves—minor, but unmistakable. Gnosis. Divine approval rippling through his being like a shot of spiritual adrenaline. Some part of him wondered what it said about his priorities that the universe itself was giving him a cosmic thumbs-up for choosing victory over survival.
Then again, maybe he didn't need to wonder at all.
"Ready?" Chimera asked, though she already knew the answer.
Blake hurled himself forward, each movement a calculated risk. His muscles burned sweet and familiar as he bounded and twisted through the alpha's unstable aura. The knife felt alive in his hand, humming with barely contained violence. He could taste the coming clash of powers on his tongue - metallic, electric, inevitable.
The alpha charged to meet him, its power ripping the fabric of space like wet tissue paper. Blake's heart thundered as they crossed paths, his knife meeting its claws in a shower of sparks and distorted geometry. Reality buckled and screamed around them, bending into shapes that made his eyes water.
The fire in his muscles, the crackling tension saturating the air—this was exactly what Blake craved. Something to push him past the edge, to break through every limit he thought he had. A wild grin stretched across his face, unbidden, as he twisted just in time to keep the beast’s crushing blow from turning his skull to pulp.
One-two-three, strike.
One-two-three, dodge.
One-two-three...
The dance continued, each movement building toward a crescendo that would either tear the alpha apart or see Blake turned into chili. There was no middle ground anymore. No room for half measures.
Just the rhythm, the blade, and the space between spaces where victory waited.
Blake darted left, avoiding the alpha's swipe by a breath as its claws tore through the wreckage behind him. The beast snarled, wheeling around with a speed that belied its massive frame, but Blake was already moving. He lunged low, his knife slashing across its hind leg, cutting deep into the exposed sinew and sparking against cybernetic plating. The creature roared and lashed out with its tail, catching Blake in the ribs and sending him sprawling into the dirt.
He rolled to his feet, pain radiating through his chest. The beast charged again, its wounded leg dragging slightly but not enough to slow its ferocity. Blake sidestepped at the last second, planting his boot on a protruding metal beam to spring upward. He brought the knife down in a savage arc as he passed over its back, carving a shallow line along its spine before landing awkwardly on debris.
The alpha spun with a guttural growl, leaping at him with both claws extended. Blake dove beneath it, his shoulder scraping against jagged metal as he drove the knife upward into its underbelly. The blade sank in but failed to reach deep enough to do real damage before the beast's momentum yanked it free. Blood and something darker dripped from the wound as the creature landed hard and twisted to face him.
Both of them were breathing heavily now—Blake's chest heaving with exertion and pain, the alpha's sides shuddering with each labored breath. Its wound glowed brighter with each passing moment, pulsing in perfect rhythm. One-two-three, pause.
Blake rose to his feet slowly, gripping his knife tighter as he matched the beast's glare. Everything around them seemed distant now—noise fading away until all that remained was the beat of their shared resonance.
He felt it in his core, that rhythm thrumming through his very being. It wasn't just sound or sight anymore; it was instinctual, woven into every fiber of him. Each beat pulled him forward like a tide rising to meet an inevitable shore.
The alpha lunged again.
Blake moved without thinking—his body flowing like water as he twisted past razor-sharp claws and vaulted onto its back. The creature thrashed beneath him, but he clung tight, one arm hooked around a jutting plate of cybernetics while the other drove his knife downward with everything he had.
The blade plunged deep into the glowing wound on its chest.
The beast screamed—a sound that tore through the air like ripping metal—but Blake didn't stop. He gritted his teeth against its writhing and focused all of his energy into that single point of contact. Mana surged from his core into the blade as he closed his eyes and felt for that resonance again.
One-two-three-push.
The rhythm aligned perfectly this time, not just in sound or movement but in purpose. He could feel it now—the repulsion effect he'd been chasing all along. Space itself seemed to coil around the wound like a spring waiting to be released.
Blake pushed harder, pouring every ounce of mana into the blade.
One.
Two.
Three.