Chapter 3: No More Heroes

Day 6 of the 3rd Air Cycle, 1985 g.c.

Twenty-nine thousand two hundred four miles across the lands of Gaia from my rebirth, the quaint village of Wilson lay nestled in the east of Arcadia's expansive grasslands. As night grooved on, the landscape transformed into a serene, otherworldly tableau, bathed in the ethereal glow of three full moons. The entrancing light from these celestial bodies spilled across the rolling plains, illuminating the sea of tall, swaying grass that stretched as far as the eye could see.

The sky above Wilson was a spectacle in itself. The three moons, each a different hue—one a cool, pale blue, another a soft silver, and the third a deep, mysterious crimson—cast a mesmerizing tapestry of colors across the land. High above, Gaia's majestic rings arched across the heavens, shimmering with iridescent shades of violet and emerald. These rings, composed of countless particles of ice and rock, glinted like a celestial necklace adorning the planet.

Dominating the night sky was the neighboring planet, Trappist. Although its distance is double the length of the tri-moons, its colossal presence was impossible to ignore, appearing almost close enough to touch. Trappist's surface, a swirling mix of gassy greens and whites, added depth and grandeur to the cosmic scenery. The planet's size and proximity made it a constant and awe-inspiring companion in Gaia's night sky, its visage occupying nearly a quarter of the celestial dome.

The grasslands themselves were alive with subtle, nocturnal sounds. Crickets chirped rhythmically, creating a soothing symphony that echoed through the night. Occasionally, the distant howl of a wolf or the rustle of a small creature moving through the grass added to the chorus. The air was cool and crisp, carrying the earthy scent of the grass and the faint aroma of wildflowers that grew sporadically across the plains.

Wilson's humble cottages, their thatched roofs glowing softly in the moonlight, stood as a testament to its inhabitants' simple yet resilient lives. Mana-powered lanterns flickered gently in windows, casting warm, inviting glows that contrasted beautifully with the cold, multi-sheen of the sky's night lights.

Emerging from the village gate, a trio of robed figures made their way into the night, their silhouettes barely discernible against the dark backdrop. These were the same kind of Elves as Dr. Kai, all shrouded in the mystery of their hooded cloaks and equipped for the rigors of adventure. At the helm of the group stood a male elf at a comfortable 5'10", his fair skin almost luminescent under the moonlight. His athletic build was complemented by a visible scar cutting across his right eye and eyebrow, a testament to past battles and hardships.

He moved with purpose and a touch of paranoia, checking the horses hitched to their wagon with practiced efficiency before addressing his companions with a firm, "It's time to go."

"We're coming, Gawain." Responding to his command, two elven sisters stepped forward.

The leader of the pair, with her flowing brunette hair and piercing blue eyes, wore a necklace with "Amanda" engraved in elegant calligraphy, peeking out from beneath her cloak. Her sister, whose golden tresses contrasted sharply with her deep brown eyes, displayed a similar necklace inscribed with "Amber." Both were cloaked, their identities concealed, except for the barcode tattoos on their wrists—symbols of their origins or perhaps their pasts. Standing identical at 5'4", their petite frames were ready for the journey ahead.

Gawain: "Are you ready, Tatsuya?"

Craig: "You know we're friends, right? You can just call me Craig."

Trailing behind was Craig Tatsuya, a human whose presence contrasted with the fantastical elven trio. His rich brown skin glowed under the magic lantern light he carried, accentuating his well-groomed black beard and the precision of his Caesar fade. At 5'9", Craig was not as towering as Gawain, but his aura spoke of seasoned experience. Unlike his cloaked companions, Craig wore his armor openly, the polished metal reflecting his years as a mercenary. A longsword hung at his side, its hilt worn from use, and a medium-sized shield was strapped to his back, ready to defend against any threat they might encounter.

Gawain glanced around before lowering his voice. "I wanted to wait until we made it further down the road before using that name out loud. You're well known in the Kingdom of Madness territories."

Amanda pulled her hood tighter, casting a wary glance over her shoulder. "How much further to Velonica?"

Craig adjusted his gear and replied, "It's a little over four years from here by normal means, but we'll be taking the Underground Manarail. It connects the town of Rian to Lanaux in West Velonica."

Gawain nodded, his gaze steady. "Once we're in Lanaux, we'll be safe from slavers and can plot our next moves."

Craig smirked; a hint of excitement in his eyes. "Lucky us, Rian is only a year's journey from here."

Amber, her eyes wide with curiosity, asked, "That is significantly shorter. How long will the trip on the Underground Manarail be?"

Craig's grin widened. "It's amazing. We'll be in Velonica in just twelve hours on it."

Amanda's jaw dropped. "Twelve hours? What kind of incredible magic is that?"

Gawain leaned in, his tone conspiratorial. "I've heard rumors of it using ancient Light Elves technology that manipulates Spatial Mana Magic Gems."

Amber’s face lit up with wonder. "I can't wait to see it. It’ll be amazing to witness what our people once achieved."

Craig's voice was resolute. "Not far to go now. Let's get you three to freedom."

Together, this determined group set forth down the road, their destination clear and their resolve unshakable. The night was filled with the sounds of their departure: the creak of the wagon, the soft clopping of horses' hooves, and the quiet murmur of their voices as they disappeared into the enveloping darkness of Gaia's vast landscape.

Eight hours after the tri-moons reached their midnight zenith, the sisters spotted two travelers ahead of their wagon. One was a lycanthrope with snow-tipped, dark cocoa-colored locks, and the other a large humanoid with round-tipped horns and reptilian scales covering his skin. Both stood confidently, their tails trailing behind them—one furry, the other scaly.

Before the sisters could alert Gawain, he called out to the travelers with a friendly tone. "I recognize that mana signature anywhere, Melech Una, you old dog."

The lycanthrope on the left turned around, revealing pointy, furry ears perched atop his head, now standing erect in curiosity. The moonlight glinted off his eyepatch, casting a reflective gleam. His animalistic, byzantine blue eye scanned the darkness, catching sight of the approaching magic lanterns.

"Who's there?" Melech sniffed the air. "Gawain Angus, is that you?"

Gawain grinned. "Melech, what are you doing back here in the Kingdom of Madness?"

As the wagon pulled closer, the lycanthrope's features became more distinct. Melech wore blue shorts secured with a white rope and a chest piece made of mana-absorbing bamboo and cloth that covered his neck. Golden sphere piercings adorned the tips of his ears.

His companion, dressed in a magic-weaved cotton ensemble with red trim, stood with an imposing presence. Jade-green eyes, reflecting the same hue as the mana swirling around his mohawk-like dorsal plates, observed the newcomers. Pointy eyes gleamed with the light of the Very, Very, Slightly Included diamonds on his ears and the massive diamond medallion resting on his chest.

Melech glanced at his sensei before addressing Gawain. "I'm accompanying my sensei to the town called Rian. We must make our way to Velonica in haste."

Gawain's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "You two are heading to Velonica? I thought your clan lived in Aldo."

"We relocated 53 years ago," Melech replied with a chuckle, "but to a Light Elf, I'm sure that's nothing but a nap."

Gawain smiled, his eyes twinkling. "You lycanthropes can live up to 350 years, only about 500 shorter than us." He turned to One Pound, his smile broadening. "A pleasure to meet the person who taught Melech those sword skills."

"Call me One Pound," the draconic humanoid said, extending his arm with his fist closed for a fist dap. "I'm happy to hear Mel is holding it down."

Gawain looked at the gesture, a memory jogging his mind. "Oh, I remember. Melech taught me this." He closed his fist and tapped his knuckles with One Pound, completing the greeting.

Gawain then offered, "My party is also heading to Velonica through Rian. Would you like to travel with us? Our chances of survival can only improve with additional artists, right?"

Melech's eyes lit up. "That would be excellent, as long as it's no trouble. What do you say, Sensei?"

One Pound nodded, a warm smile spreading across his face. "Of course, we say yes. Traveling with friends is always the best way to experience the journey of life."

Melech and One Pound climbed into the back of the wagon, joining the other three. Melech waved his furry hands, offering a warm smile to the two girls, who seemed uneasy with the new arrivals. Noticing their discomfort, Craig took it upon himself to bridge the gap.

"Nice to meet you both. How do you know Gawain?" Craig asked, his tone friendly.

"We were party members during the Electric Boogaloo War, back when Aldo was fighting for independence," Melech replied; a hint of pride in his voice.

"I’d be missing more than an eye if it weren't for Melech," Gawain added, gratitude evident in his eyes.

"Hehehe, well, I couldn't just let you die on me," Melech chuckled, the sound warm and inviting.

"That sounds like little Mel," One Pound commented, shaking his head with a smirk.

Craig's eyes widened in recognition. "You're the Electric Blade of Velonica? I thought he was human!"

"That's because I fought most of that war in a human transformation. All lycans learn that during childhood," Melech explained, his voice steady.

Now appearing more at ease, the two elven sisters joined the conversation.

“What kind of artist are you? A M-Cee or a swordsman?” Amber asked, her curiosity piqued.

“I’m just a blade artist, not an M-Cee at all. My sensei is a True M-Cee,” Melech responded, his pride shining through.

“A True M-Cee!? That’s incredible!” Craig exclaimed, leaning forward with interest.

Amanda looked puzzled. “I don’t understand. What’s the difference between an M-Cee and a True M-Cee?”

Amber chimed in, “They’re like special artists or something, right?”

Craig nodded, taking a moment to gather his thoughts. “Sort of. Not all artists are M-Cees. The term ‘Artist’ is given to adventurers who register with the RIAA—the Royal Intercontinental Alliance of Artists. The RIAA keeps records of the many arts created and pays artists and guilds for requests made by the towns they are stationed in. Some of the biggest and most famous guilds are part of the RIAA, like Def Jelly, Coin Money Raiders, and Stone-a-Fella.”

He continued, “Now, understand that Mana Controllers, or M-Cees, make up only 38% of the planet's population. Out of that percentage, the top 1% are known as True M-Cees. These Mana Controllers are at Demon Lord levels in power, as True M-Cees always possess an Ultra Skill.”

Amanda’s eyes widened. “Big bro Gawain is a C-Class artist, but neither he nor you have an Ultra Skill, right, Tatsuya?”

“Right, we just have Personal Skills, as even Ultra Skills are extremely rare to have,” Craig replied with a smile. “And you can call me Craig.”

“Wow, are you really that strong?” Amber asked, her eyes wide with amazement.

“Oh noooo, Mel just likes to hype an old man up,” One Pound interjected, chuckling softly.

“Sensei, please. You are still powerful even without…” Melech began.

“That is enough, Mel. Let’s rest this topic,” One Pound said firmly, the warmth in his tone replaced by a hint of seriousness.

“Forgive me, Sensei,” Melech murmured, his ears drooping slightly.

One Pound’s gaze shifted to the girls’ wrists. “From the look of those barcodes, I take it you’re seeking sanctuary from the Slave Trade?”

“That’s correct, Lord One Pound. These are my younger sisters. Craig and I started this journey two years ago to free them from their captors after we learned where they had been taken,” Gawain explained, his voice steady despite the weight of his words.

“I heard things have gotten difficult for Light Elves recently, especially with the Kingdom of Madness backing the slave trades and striking a deal with the Dark Elves,” One Pound remarked, his brow furrowing.

“Things are just now changing since the former queen was assassinated,” Craig noted, his expression somber.

Melech looked shocked. “So the rumors were true. The Mad Queen is dead.”

“May she rot in piss,” Gawain muttered, a dark edge to his voice.

“Without her attacking every elven refugee group on the road, many of my people are finally starting to escape to the North of Arcadia, into the Kingdom of Braye. Those who can’t try to find their way through the Bloodlands and have been running to Velonica instead, since both nations are Free States,” Gawain added, hope flickering in his eyes.

“I have connections in Babylonia, but I wouldn’t suggest that journey alone, especially with the roads from Velonica thickening with watchers in recent months,” he continued. “Running into multiple winged reapers would mean instant death.”

“I’m not sure we could survive one watcher,” Craig admitted, a hint of worry creeping into his voice.

“Where’s your faith in your abilities, Craig?” Gawain asked, smiling encouragingly. “I know if Melech was willing to travel with us, we’d be fine against one. The Electric Blade of Velonica is a nation-famous gold-class artist, after all. And you know his sensei is at least just as skilled in techniques if he taught him.”

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One Pound shook his head, a twinkle of amusement in his eyes. “An old dragon like me is just heading to Talasi to see an old friend. I shall leave the adventuring to Babylonia to you young fellows.”

Melech shook his head with a wistful smile. "I will have to pass. My daughter, Ameera, was born a year ago, and I’m itching to return home to see her again."

Gawain's eyes lit up. "You're a father now? We will have to drink to that."

Amber shivered slightly. "Watchers sound scary."

Craig nodded, his expression turning serious. "I can't believe it's been half a millennium since the Trappers released those disgusting fleas onto our world."

Amber's curiosity got the better of her. "So there were beings who came from the planet next door?"

"Only one," Craig explained, a grim look crossing his face. "Legend has it, he killed everyone in the nation of Hels before being defeated by The Eminent Knight, Garland Braye."

"Everyone?" Amber echoed, horror creeping into her voice.

"Every single creature with a soul," Craig affirmed, his tone heavy. "It took the Hels over 300 years to create the Mana Beast that resides there today. That entire continent is now uninhabitable to anything other than Majins."

Gawain added, "Elven history speaks about how the winged visitor from planet Trappist would feed on the souls of the people across Arcadia. They would kill those who could use mana before attacking those who couldn't. Because of this, the Light Elves started to reject the use of Arts and Skills, hoping to be spared if another trapper came to our planet."

"This weakened the Light Elves greatly and allowed the Dark Elves to wait out our demise, attacking us at our lowest," Gawain continued, his voice tinged with bitterness.

Craig chimed in, "How did y'all think they weren't still holding a grudge? Seven hundred years is still within a recent lifetime for some of them."

One Pound, who had been silently listening, finally spoke, his voice low and contemplative. "The Elven Civil War is still showing ripples of its lasting effects."

A sudden, deafening crack echoed through the night, snapping the group out of their conversation. The wagon jolted violently, throwing them off balance. The air was thick with the acrid stench of blood and the metallic tang of terror, a sharp reminder that danger was imminent.

Before they could react, a massive, grotesque figure loomed above them. An Orc, its eyes glowing with malevolent hunger, came crashing down from the trees. The impact shook the ground, and the horrifying sound of bones crunching under the immense weight of the beast filled the air. The wagon's pair of horses screamed in agony as they were crushed beneath the orc's massive body, the cart flying backward several dozen yards in the chaos.

Amber and Amanda shrieked, their faces pale with fear, while Craig's heart raced as he drew his sword, hands trembling but resolute. Gawain's eyes blazed with fury as he prepared to defend his sisters. The air grew thick with the rancid odor of decay and the Orc’s foul stench, a sickening combination of rot and raw flesh.

Melech and One Pound sprang into action, their expressions grim. The camaraderie and laughter that had filled the night vanished, replaced by the palpable tension of impending violence. The Orc roared; a bone-rattling sound that reverberated through their bodies, plunging the night into chaos.

Gawain, Craig, and Melech rushed to the vanguard, leaving One Pound behind to protect the Angus sisters in the rear. The orc towered over the landscape, a monstrous figure resembling a massive, humanoid swine. Its peach-pink skin glistened with a greasy sheen, taut over rippling muscles that bulged with every movement. Red, glowing eyes blazed with a feral intensity, casting an eerie light that pierced the darkness.

Adorned in only a tattered loincloth, the minimal clothing did little to conceal his grotesque form. Thick, coarse hair sprouted from his chest and back, enhancing his menacing presence. In one hand, he clutched a colossal mace, its handle wrapped in worn leather and its head studded with jagged metal spikes—a tool of pure destruction.

Every step he took sent tremors through the ground, and the sickening scent of decay clung to him like a shroud. This orc was a terrifying blend of brute strength and savage aggression, a nightmarish presence that commanded fear and dread.

Melech tightened his grip on his saber, a fierce determination igniting in his eyes. "Sensei, I'll help with the orc. Can you guard the girls?"

One Pound nodded firmly. "I'll hold the rearguard. Focus on our enemy."

Melech sprinted to Gawain's side, saber gleaming in the moonlight. The 8-foot-tall monstrosity with a grotesque, swine-like physique and glowing red eyes; lumbered toward them, brandishing its massive mace.

Gawain’s voice was steady, his gaze fixed on the approaching threat. "I'm adding you to the party, Melech. My battle power might not boost yours much, but the group buff should still help."

Melech's voice held respect and excitement. "It's an honor to fight beside you again, my friend."

Gawain smirked. "Those were my words to say."

Craig's voice cut through the tension, laced with urgency. "Fellas, what's the game plan?"

The orc let out a deafening roar. "GRRAAWWARRR!"

Gawain quickly issued commands. "Craig, you and Melech flank him while I find an opening to use my skill [Perfect Shot]. With your enchanted shield, tank his attack and allow Melech to lower his defense before he can strike again."

Melech nodded, a determined smirk on his face. "I can remove the worry of you missing with that. Craig, ready?"

Craig's response was immediate, adrenaline coursing through him. "Let's go!"

The orc, growing impatient, raised its metal mace high, ready to strike. Melech and Gawain scattered in opposite directions at blinding speed, creating tiny sonic booms that shattered the silence of the night. Craig braced himself, his shield held high to absorb the incoming blow.

The orc's mace crashed down onto Craig's shield with a force that could shatter a 50-foot-thick granite wall. The deafening impact echoed through the trees, sending reverberations deep into the forest. Craig gritted his teeth, feeling the shock reverberate through his body.

"Stay focused. You can do this." Melech, now positioned to the orc's left, unsheathed his saber and began chanting a combat art, his weapon crackling with electric volts and cobalt-colored mana. "Enhanced Electric Combat Arts: Ranga's Bite."

Lightning danced across his blade as he dashed toward the orc, movements a blur. He struck with lightning speed, his saber slicing into the orc's flesh 36 times in rapid succession, each strike eliciting a pained roar from the beast.

Craig, recovering from the orc's attack, jumped back and shouted, "Now!!"

But Gawain was already in motion, his bow drawn and an arrow notched. He chanted his skill's activation, creating vibrant orange and green mana spiraling around the arrow. "Personal Skill [Perfect Shot]!"

As the mana finished it swirls around the arrow, forming a spiraling singularity at its tip. Gawain released the arrow, which zipped through the air and struck the orc's left eye with pinpoint accuracy, piercing through to the back of its skull. The orc froze, a gurgling roar escaping its throat, its eyes widening in shock.

Seizing the moment, Melech’s saber crackled with lightning as he decapitated the orc in a single, swift motion, ensuring its defeat. The head rolled to the ground with a heavy thud, and silence fell, broken only by the labored breaths of the combatants.

Craig cheered, adrenaline still pumping. "We did it!"

Melech echoed, "Great moves, everyone."

Amber clapped, her excitement bubbling over. "Yay, you guys were amazing!"

Amanda, still trembling, gasped, "The Creator above, that was terrifying. I thought we were done for."

As they stood amidst the eerie stillness, the reality of their survival began to sink in. The fight may have ended, but the journey ahead remained fraught with danger, and they were not yet safe.

One Pound frowned, lost in thought. "Why can’t I sense anyone's mana? I haven’t even detected any magitons in the air. Something’s muting my ability to perceive it."

His eyes widened in sudden realization. "Wait, don’t tell me…"

As the group began to regroup, a shadow loomed ominously behind an unsuspecting Gawain.

“Great job, fellas. Now we have to figure the wag—”

His sentence was cut short by the chilling sound of wind slicing through flesh. The top half of his head slid away, revealing a gruesome sight as blood sprayed forth, painting Amber’s face. Gawain crumpled to the ground, lifeless, his glazed eyes reflecting a haunting emptiness.

One Pound barked, “Everyone, get back!”

Amber's scream tore through the night, “GAWAAAIN!”

Amanda’s cry followed, “AHHHH! Big Brother!”

“What the... Gawain?” Melech’s voice trembled.

Craig, wide-eyed, stammered, “What the hell just happened?!”

From the shadows emerged a figure, its presence sending waves of dread through the group. The flickering magic lanterns illuminated a grotesque form wrapped in decaying cloth, barely covering its alien-android body. Metallic limbs with backward-bending knees supported the creature, while horns curved menacingly from its skull, pointing forward. Feathery wings unfurled from its back, and a mouth full of carnivorous teeth twisted into a sinister grin, its eyes glowing with a sickly yellow-green mana.

“It’s a Watcher!” One Pound’s voice was filled with recognition and fear.

“A Watcher is here!”

Craig’s voice wavered, the group’s fear palpable as the horrific creature stepped closer, its malevolent presence casting a long shadow over them. The air grew thick with the scent of blood and the promise of imminent danger.

Before Craig could brace himself, the Watcher appeared in front of him in the blink of an eye, kicking him into the wagon with a sickening crunch, splintering wood and breaking Craig’s body upon impact.

“Melech! No! Damnit!” One Pound shouted, dashing at the Watcher.

Just in time, he yanked Melech away from a magic circle that had formed between them, threatening to catch him in the unleashed devastating fire pillar.

“Where did that come from?” Melech gasped.

“We're not alone. Something has silenced my mana sense here,” One Pound replied, his heart racing.

Suddenly, an unknown deep voice rumbled from the shadows, “I was wondering where my orc meal had run off to.”

Amber and Amanda turned, seeking the source of the voice. As soon as they caught a glimpse, their heads exploded in a horrific spectacle, the gruesome sound echoing through the clearing, followed by slow, deliberate steps of hooves.

“But I just might have found some better Soul Cores to eat,” the voice continued; a sinister tone that sent chills down their spines.

“Noooo! Not the girls too! Who the hell are you?” Melech shouted, his heart sinking.

Emerging from the shadows, a slime-green minotaur-like figure took shape, draped in black and gold armor that shimmered ominously. His eyes gleamed with a cruel intelligence as a hunter-green mana halo hovered above his mohawk, nestled between two long, black horns that bore a glowing magic circlet. Two black feathered wings, each beat like the shadow of death, unfurled menacingly above a swaying bovine tail.

He didn't respond right away. Instead, his hand lifted slowly, revealing a swirling vortex of magitons and additional particles that coalesced into a rune circle. The air thickened with tension as a small square portal, veiled in golden-yellow mist, materialized in his palm. Without uttering a word, he activated his skill. The corpses scattered around began to twitch violently, their bodies convulsing as prismatic ethereal flames—souls—were forcibly ejected.

With deliberate malice, the souls were drawn into the portal, each one vanishing as he closed his fist around the final wisp of light. A low, sinister chuckle rumbled from deep within his chest.

"Not bad, not bad at all," he sneered, his voice a gravelly murmur that dripped with malice. "Three of them, worth the walk. Good job sniffing them out, watcher."

Melech's eyes burned with rage. "You killed my friend and his family, and now you deny them peace in death? You'll pay for this!"

One Pound placed a hand on Melech's shoulder, his voice low but firm. "Mel, calm your fur. I can only think of two types of creatures with wings that eat souls, and I believe they are both right here. So, I need you to make a run for it when I give you the opening. You still have the Dawnstone, right?"

Melech hesitated. "I do, sensei, but I can't just leave you to face him alone. He's stronger than the watcher, and if the legends are true, he's as powerful as a True M-Cee."

One Pound's expression hardened. "We can't both die here. Get the Dawnstone to Talasi, to Vericka. Do that, and your debt is cleared."

Melech shook his head. "I can't just walk away from thousands in debt like that. My honor—"

"Mel," One Pound interrupted, "forgive me."

Before Melech could react, One Pound grabbed him by the waist and hurled him toward the town, Rian. The ground shook with the force of the throw, and Melech was sent soaring, miles away in an instant. The watcher, with a shriek, tried to take off after him but was slammed back into the ground by One Pound, who appeared in a blur, driving the watcher into the dirt before the bull angel.

"[Probability Correction]," One Pound whispered, "[Reality Lord: Ahura Mazda]."

Taurus, the bull angel, watched with a twisted grin. "Was that your attempt to save him or kill him? That landing might be the end of your little friend."

His eyes narrowed, catching the faintest ripple of power. "A Vessel Skill? Interesting. Your Soul Core will be quite the feast."

One Pound's gaze didn't waver. "I recognize those wings. You're from Trappist, aren't you?"

Taurus's smile widened. "So, you met Virgo. Yes, Gaian, my name is Taurus. Be grateful, for your Soul Core will further my evolution into a Muon, the highest rank of angels."

One Pound scoffed. "Who would be thankful to an angel for murdering them?"

Taurus let out a low, sinister chuckle. "Virgo was right. You mortals may be ripe for eating now, but you lack the seasoning of divine devotion. You don't know your place, livestock."

As One Pound positioned himself, the watcher began to rise, its left wing broken but rage driving it to its feet. One Pound stood firm, his stance wide, as if rooted to the earth.

"The irony of you saying that with that face," One Pound taunted, his voice dripping with disdain.

Taurus hesitated, momentarily stunned by the insult. His green halo flared red with fury. "This is where you die, reptile."

One Pound's eyes blazed with a cold, unyielding light. "That's former Eastern Deva of Arcadia, Lord One Pound to you, failure of the Heavens."

The watcher's remaining wing flapped wildly as it charged, roaring in pain and anger. Taurus pointed a finger, and the watcher lunged at One Pound, both arms outstretched in a murderous frenzy.

One Pound's voice rang out, calm and deadly, "Let's wrap this up, activate [Ultimate Magic]."

One Pound planted his feet firmly on the ground, the earth cracking beneath him from the immense power surging through his body. His eyes blazed with determination as he extended his arms wide, palms facing outward. The air vibrated, charged with raw energy as golden arcs of electricity danced around him.

"MIXED SOLAR MANA ARTS!" One Pound roared, his voice echoing across the battlefield. A brilliant aura of golden light enveloped him, growing brighter with each second. His muscles tensed, veins bulging as he channeled energy into his hands.

"...RIGHTEOUS LIGHT!" With a thunderous shout, he brought his hands together, fingers splayed and palms forward. A colossal beam of blinding white and yellow energy erupted from his palms, tearing through the air with a deafening roar. The ground quaked beneath the sheer force of the blast, a shockwave rippling outward, flattening everything in its path as it sped toward the oncoming watcher and trapper.

The focused beam surged forward, obliterating the watcher that dared to stand in its way. One Pound's face was a mask of sheer willpower, sweat dripping from his brow as he poured every ounce of his being into the attack. The light illuminated the entire area, casting long shadows and filling the air with palpable heat. But when the beam reached Taurus, it slammed into his magic barrier.

The collision erupted in a blinding flash and deafening explosion. Sparks flew, and the air crackled as the energy clashed against the impenetrable shield. One Pound's eyes narrowed, his body straining under the immense power as he held the attack steady. The energy beam stretched into the distance, a testament to his resolve and the destructive potential of a retired True M-Cee.

When the attack concluded, the landscape bore the unmistakable scars of One Pound's power. The once dense forest was now a barren wasteland, a colossal path of obliteration stretching miles into the distance. Trees lay splintered and charred, the ground gouged into deep furrows by the blast. Where vibrant life once thrived, only a massive, smoldering trench remained.

The remains of the watcher lay at the epicenter, a charred half-corpse among the devastation. The acrid smell of burnt wood and earth mingled with the ozone from the discharge, a testament to the cataclysmic force unleashed. It was as if a mountain had been blasted apart, leaving a stark, gaping wound in the land, speaking volumes of One Pound's unbridled power.

Taurus stood untouched amidst the devastation, his expression unreadable. But One Pound's growing concern was clear—his strongest attack had left his mana pool dangerously low. He quickly began strategizing his next move as Taurus prepared to strike back.

"[Enhance Body], empowered [Justice Strike]!" Taurus commanded.

The normally black horns on Taurus began to glow crimson, red mana concentrating at their tips.

"This is bad," One Pound thought, feeling the drain from using both his Vessel Skill and Signature Art. "I need to go with Plan C."

"[Reality Lord: Ahura Mazda], cast [Reality Rewrite]!" One Pound declared.

But before he could complete the spell, Taurus snarled, "Oh no, you don't!" In a flash, Taurus blurred toward him, moving at the speed of light.

His horns, charged with destructive energy, aimed straight for One Pound's chest. The ground cracked and burned beneath Taurus, creating a sonic boom as he closed the distance.

Taurus's enchanted charge slammed into One Pound's barrier with a deafening crack. The shimmering shield shattered, unleashing a cataclysmic explosion that engulfed the area in blinding light. Shockwaves tore through the landscape, flattening trees and charring the earth in a wide radius. The air filled with the acrid stench of burnt ozone and scorched wood, as debris rained down like deadly shrapnel.

Amid the chaos, Taurus's right horn, glowing with malevolent crimson energy, pierced through One Pound's torso, directly striking his solar plexus. Blood gushed from One Pound's mouth and the exit wound in his back, the stored mana from the attack releasing violently.

"Glah... Re..ree.e..in..car..na," One Pound choked out, barely able to speak.

Taurus sneered, "Shhhh, little lizard. Time to become dinner."

With those words, Taurus jerked his head upward, tearing through One Pound's body from the solar plexus to his skull, cleaving him in half.

As One Pound's body collapsed to the ground, Taurus shook the blood off his horns and armor with a casual flick of his head before dusting himself off.

"Strange... Something feels odd," Taurus muttered.

At that moment, [Reality Rewrite] completed. Reality itself began to distort, the air shimmering as the world around Taurus warped. The once-familiar forest blurred like a mirage, colors bleeding together as if existence was being unraveled and rewoven. Shadows twisted unnaturally, and the stars above spun in a slow, hypnotic dance.

Taurus's confident smirk faltered, replaced by confusion. The solid ground beneath his hooves felt like shifting sand, and the trees around him bent and swayed, their forms stretching into grotesque shapes before snapping back to normal. An ethereal fog thickened the air, pulsing with a life of its own, distorting his vision and making it hard to discern what was real.

The night gradually returned as the fog lifted, leaving behind an eerie stillness. Taurus's eyes darted around, trying to make sense of his altered surroundings. He looked down at where One Pound's body should have been, expecting to see a soul ready for consumption. Instead, he found the spot empty, the ground undisturbed as if One Pound had never existed.

Unease settled over Taurus. "Strange... Something feels off," he muttered, doubt flickering in his voice. The world around him had changed, and the rules he had once trusted were no longer the same.

Taurus shook his head, perplexed. "Huh? Did he get away? It didn't feel like I missed." Frowning, he muttered, "I need to find Libra. Something was off with that one... a True M-Cee, maybe?"

As he turned away, his body began to glow with a brilliant yellow light, intertwined with swirling green mana. The air crackled with energy, distorting the space slightly before he vanished, teleporting away from the scene and leaving behind a landscape of death and destruction.

Four hundred and sixty-seven miles away, Melech descended from his arc's trajectory, noticing that the previously dense, tree-infested area he was heading toward had transformed into a serene pond, shrouded in a mysterious haze. He landed in the water without harm. As he resurfaced, a loud, destructive boom echoed in the distance. He turned to see One Pound's Righteous Light beam shooting across the horizon, illuminating the night sky.

"Gaaasp!" Melech sputtered, catching his breath. "Where did this water come from? Did Sensei use his create this?" Awe and concern filled him as he realized the extent of the battle raging far away.

Melech swam to the pond's edge, limbs heavy with fatigue. He crawled onto the land, coughing up water he had accidentally swallowed. As he tried to steady his breathing and gather his senses, a sudden realization struck him—a profound absence in the mana signatures around him.

"Oh no! Sensei!" Melech's voice trembled with panic.

He punched the ground in frustration, shockwaves rippling through his body. Tears welled in his eyes, spilling down his cheeks as memories of One Pound flooded his mind—countless hours of training, laughter, and wisdom shared. The weight of his mentor's absence crushed him, and he felt a deep sense of helplessness.

Taking a moment to gather himself, Melech checked for the Dawnstone, relief washing over him as he confirmed it was secure. Wiping his tears, he felt his resolve harden with every passing second. Rising to his feet, he cast one last look in the direction of the battlefield, a silent promise to avenge his fallen mentor burning in his heart.

With a heavy heart, he continued his journey, each step bringing him closer to the town of Rian. The path ahead was uncertain, but Melech knew he had to honor One Pound's sacrifice. He steeled himself for the trials to come, determined to carry on his mentor's wish.

As the first light of dawn began to break, Melech's figure disappeared into the horizon, a lone warrior bearing a heavy burden yet unwavering resolve.

[End of Chapter]