The battlefield was chaos.

Screams and the clash of weapons reverberated through the ruined landscape as warriors fought desperately against the monstrous level 7 sphere creature. Or wolf-moth as Jun-Hyuk liked to call it. The beast’s inhuman laugh echoed in the air, drowning out the orders barked by General Tao Ren, who stood at the forefront of the fight. His rifle barked repeatedly, blue flashes of light ricocheting off the beast’s hide like pebbles thrown at steel. Sweat dripped from his furrowed brow as he cursed under his breath, switching to a heavier weapon from the vehicle. However, the effects were only slightly better. The stronger blue flashes only cut a small hole out of the beast that disappeared nearly three seconds later.

To the left, Zhao Wei’s father and older brother fought side by side, their movements a synchronized dance of desperation. Their spears glinted as they struck in tandem, aiming for the creature’s joints, but their efforts barely slowed it down. The beast’s grotesque wings twitched, sending a gust of wind that knocked them both off balance.

A few meters away, Feng Lei’s father was a sight to behold. His black hair whipped in the wind, his movements a blur as he unleashed fiery arcs with his sword. Each swing left a trail of golden flames that momentarily illuminated the battlefield, but even his attacks seemed to have little lasting effect. The beast’s regenerative abilities rendered every strike futile, its wounds sealing almost as quickly as they were made. He gritted his teeth, muttering under his breath, “We need more time... Just hold on.”

The air reeked of blood and scorched earth. Warriors fell one by one, their cries cut short as the beast’s claws or jaws found them. Lian Hua darted between the fallen, her sword moving with a desperate elegance as she tried to keep the creature’s attention away from the injured. Zhao Ruyi stood beside her, reloading her firearm with shaky hands, her usual bravado replaced by grim determination.

Jun-Hyuk stood at the edge of the chaos, his knuckles white as he gripped DawnFire’s hilt. He watched the scene unfold, his chest tightening with guilt and frustration. These people, these warriors, were pouring their lives into holding the line, and yet the creature showed no signs of slowing. His mind screamed at him to act, to do something—anything—but doubt clawed at him. The beast let out another triumphant roar, its wings snapping out to send another gust that sent several warriors sprawling. Feng Lei’s father staggered, his flames dimming for the briefest moment. That was all the beast needed. It lunged, claws outstretched.

What could a weakling like him do? No. He needed to remember he wasn’t weak anymore. He needed to act like the warrior everyone knew him to be.

“NO!” The cry ripped from Jun-Hyuk’s throat before he even realized it. His body moved on instinct, and he charged forward, drawing DawnFire in one swift motion. The blade caught the fading light, its intricate carvings glowing faintly as if responding to his resolve.

The beast’s claws descended, aiming for Feng Lei’s father, but Jun-Hyuk intercepted the blow, raising DawnFire in a desperate block. The impact rattled his arms, nearly driving him to his knees, but he held firm. Sparks flew as the blade clashed against the creature’s claws, the sheer force sending a shockwave through the air.

“What are you doing, boy?!” Feng Lei’s father roared, his tone a mixture of anger and surprise.

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“Buying time!” Jun-Hyuk gritted out, his muscles screaming in protest as he pushed back against the beast. It snarled, its glowing eyes narrowing as it redirected its attention to him.

The creature swiped again, faster than before. Jun-Hyuk barely dodged, rolling to the side as the claws tore through the ground where he’d stood. He retaliated with a strike, the blade of DawnFire slicing into the beast’s arm. Flames erupted from the cut, burning hotter than he’d expected. The beast howled in pain, momentarily stunned.

But it wasn’t enough. Not yet.

The creature recovered almost instantly, its injuries sealing before his eyes. It lashed out with a clawed hand, catching Jun-Hyuk across the chest and sending him flying. He hit the ground hard, the air leaving his lungs in a painful gasp. DawnFire slipped from his grasp, landing several feet away.

As the beast advanced, Jun-Hyuk’s vision blurred. Pain radiated through his body, but once again a distant scene tugged at his mind. Feng Lei’s memories. A young boy in a large courtyard surrounded by blossoming spring leaves, desperately trying to recreate the perfect image of his father’s sword movements.

“Focus, Lei,” his father’s voice echoed in his mind, calm yet firm. “The sword is an extension of you. Feel the fire, let it guide you. Control it, or it will control you.”

Jun-Hyuk’s eyes snapped open. The fire. DawnFire wasn’t just a sword; it was a part of him now, a conduit for something greater. He reached for it, his hand closing around the hilt just as the beast lunged.

This time, he didn’t retreat. He stood, planting his feet firmly as he brought the blade up. Flames roared to life along its edge, brighter and hotter than before. The heat washed over him, but it didn’t burn. Instead, it invigorated him, filling him with a renewed sense of purpose.

The beast’s claws descended, but Jun-Hyuk moved faster. He stepped into the attack, his movements fluid and precise. His body seemed to act on its own, guided by the muscle memory of Feng Lei’s training. The flames around DawnFire surged, wrapping around him like a fiery aura.

“Dawn’s Inferno!” The name escaped his lips without thought as he swung the blade in a wide arc. The flames erupted outward, a blazing torrent that engulfed the beast. The ground beneath it cracked and burned, the intense heat forcing everyone else to shield their faces.

For a moment, there was silence. Then the beast let out a deafening roar, its charred body collapsing to the ground. The flames began to die down, leaving only the blackened remains of what had once been an unstoppable monster.

Jun-Hyuk stood frozen, his chest heaving as he stared at his sword in disbelief. The others were equally stunned, their expressions a mixture of awe and confusion. Even Feng Lei’s father looked at him with newfound respect.

But the moment of victory was short-lived. A low growl rumbled through the air, sending chills down their spines. Jun-Hyuk’s eyes snapped back to the beast’s remains just as they began to shift.

The charred flesh cracked and peeled away, revealing fresh, unscathed skin beneath. The beast rose once more, its glowing eyes burning brighter than ever.

And this time, it looked angrier.