Morris stood still, his daggers gripped tightly in his hands, the poison glinting faintly on their edges.
His eyes were locked on Magal, the towering chimera ant that loomed ahead, its grotesque form blending monstrous insect features with a twisted semblance of humanoid shape.
"Is it him?" Morris asked, his voice low but laced with restrained fury.
The hunter beside him nodded solemnly.
"Yes, Guildmaster. That’s the one responsible for vice Guildmaster death."
Morris’s gaze darkened.
Memories of his son—his laughter, his fierce determination, and it had all been stolen from him—flooded his mind.
He stepped forward, his movements deliberate and silent.
As he advanced, a delicate green aura began to surround him, flowing smoothly like a whisper of wind.
It was the same aura Cain had wielded, but where Cain’s was wild and ferocious, Morris’s was precise, honed like the edge of his blades.
His steps were calculated, every motion that of a seasoned assassin prepared to strike with deadly precision.
Magal’s multifaceted eyes locked onto him, narrowing as the green glow approached.
Recognition seemed to flicker within them.
The chimera ant screeched, a bone-chilling sound that echoed across the battlefield, freezing both hunters and insects in place for a moment.
“Kieeeek!”
Magal’s demonic energy flared, black tendrils of power radiating from his hulking form.
His new enhancements were evident—small, jagged wings sprouted from his back and limbs, allowing him bursts of aerial mobility and greatly amplifying his speed.
Morris didn’t flinch.
His grip on his daggers tightened as he shifted into a crouch, his aura intensifying.
He could feel the weight of this confrontation pressing on him.
This was the monster who had taken everything from him, who had left a hole in his heart that could never be filled.
And now that monster was within reach.
Magal screeched again, then lunged forward, his wings propelling him with terrifying speed.
Black energy coiled around him, crackling like dark lightning.
Morris moved as well, a blur of green slicing through the air.
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The two forces hurtled toward each other, like twin comets on a collision course.
The hunters and insects paused, holding their breath as the inevitable clash neared.
The moment they met, Morris’s daggers clashed with Magal’s massive claws, releasing a shockwave that rippled across the battlefield.
The sharp metallic ring of their weapons meeting rang out, cutting through the noise of the surrounding chaos.
Morris pushed forward, his face a mask of grim determination.
Magal snarled, his claws pressing against Morris’s daggers with raw, brutal strength.
The two combatants didn’t break contact.
Sparks flew as their weapons grated against each other.
Magal’s wings buzzed, lifting him slightly off the ground to force more weight into the clash, but Morris shifted, sliding to the side in a seamless motion and slashing at Magal’s torso.
The chimera ant twisted just in time, Morris’s blade carving a shallow cut along its exoskeleton.
Magal retaliated, swinging a claw with blinding speed, but Morris ducked, his movements as fluid and silent as a shadow.
This was no ordinary battle. It was a dance of vengeance and fury, each step a testament to Morris’s grief and Magal’s malice.
Morris’s green aura sharpened, the edges of his daggers glowing faintly as he infused them with his energy.
He lunged forward again, his movements nearly imperceptible, aiming for the weak points in Magal’s armor—joints, cracks, and soft tissue.
Magal roared, black energy erupting from him in chaotic bursts.
He slashed wildly, his claws raking the air, but Morris evaded each strike with the precision of a predator who had waited far too long for this moment.
Each time their weapons met, the sound echoed like thunder, shaking the resolve of those watching.
Hunters stared, their breaths held, while the insect horde buzzed in restless anticipation.
But for Morris and Magal, there was no one else.
It was just them, their battle fueled by the weight of the past.
Cain’s voice echoed in Morris’s mind and his images flashed.
Morris’s eyes burned with unshed tears as he struck again, his daggers slicing through Magal’s arm.
"Kieeeek!!"
The chimera shrieked in anger, black ichor spilling from the wound, but it didn’t falter.
Magal lunged again, his massive claws gleaming with dark energy, aiming to impale Morris.
The chimera ant's movements were fast, unnaturally so for his hulking frame, but Morris sidestepped gracefully, a blur of green slicing through the air.
His daggers found purchase in Magal’s side, driving deep into the monster’s dense, chitinous flesh.
Magal roared in pain, the sound reverberating across the battlefield like a storm, but he didn’t falter.
Instead, the beast pushed through the agony, his monstrous instincts overriding reason.
With a guttural snarl, he swung his claws at Morris again.
Morris leapt back, his movements fluid, but Magal’s tail lashed out unexpectedly.
The sharp, segmented appendage struck Morris squarely in the chest, sending him hurtling backward.
He crashed into the ground, rolling to a stop in a cloud of dust.
Magal wasted no time.
He charged forward, his claws carving deep gouges into the earth as he moved.
His dark aura crackled menacingly, his monstrous body radiating raw, destructive energy.
But Morris had anticipated this.
As the chimera closed the distance, Morris shifted, rolling to the side and avoiding the attack by a hair’s breadth.
Magal's momentum carried him forward, his claws digging into empty space.
The monster skidded to a halt, churning up dirt and rocks as he turned his head, searching for his target.
By the time Magal’s eyes found him, Morris was already in motion.
He darted forward with assassin-like precision, his daggers glinting as they sliced across Magal’s carapace once again.
Magal roared in frustration, swiping at Morris with a savage claw, but Morris retreated just as quickly as he had struck.
His steps were silent, his aura sharp and calculated.
He stayed just out of reach, his every move designed to chip away at his foe.
Magal’s black carapace now bore a deep, jagged cut, ichor dripping from the wound.
For a moment, Morris felt a flicker of satisfaction.
He was doing it—wearing the monster down.
And with the poison lacing his blades, it was only a matter of time before the beast succumbed.
But then Magal froze, his many eyes glinting with malicious intelligence.
The wound on his side began to mend before Morris’s eyes, the dark ichor slowing its flow and the chitin stitching itself back together.
Morris’s heart sank.
The poison wasn’t working.
Magal stood taller, his body now emanating an even more sinister aura.
His injuries, once Morris’s advantage, were gone, replaced by reinforced plates of carapace.
The realization hit Morris like a blow—this wasn’t the same monster as before.
This Magal had been enhanced, rebuilt into something far deadlier.
The chimera sneered, a low, guttural growl rumbling from deep within his chest.
Magal’s claws flexed, dripping with a viscous black liquid that hissed as it hit the ground.
It wasn’t just poison resistance—the beast now produced his own venom, far more potent than anything Morris had faced before.
But Morris wasn’t deterred.
He rose to his feet, wiping the blood from his lip with the back of his hand.
His green aura flared around him, brighter and sharper, reflecting his unyielding resolve.
“So you’ve become stronger,” Morris said, his voice low and steady. “But that doesn’t change anything.”
The two stood face to face once more, the tension between them crackling like a storm ready to break.
Magal’s aura pulsed with dark energy, while Morris’s green glow seemed to sharpen the very air around him.
This wasn’t just a fight now. It was a test of wills, of determination, of vengeance carried on a father’s shoulders.
Morris shifted his stance, daggers at the ready, his eyes locked on Magal’s.
Magal hissed, the black venom dripping from his claws sizzling ominously.
And then they moved, faster than before, their auras clashing midair like a thunderclap.
Each strike was fiercer, more calculated, as if the weight of their respective fates rested on every blow.
For Morris, it did.