Meliae’s pursuit was relentless, the forest itself bending to her will as she skimmed effortlessly above the trees. Roots and branches responded to her presence, propelling her forward as if the entire world of nature was in her control. Her eyes gleamed with a dangerous excitement; she had caught the scent of the Anakim, the giants who had ravaged the village. The memory of their carnage ignited a fury within her, her sadistic nature boiling just beneath the surface.
As she moved, the wind carried the sounds of the world—birds, animals, and the distant thunder of the giants’ steps. She felt the earth tremble beneath her, the vibrations guiding her path. Her lips curled into a wicked smile as she caught sight of them in the distance, their towering forms moving slowly through the forest. She was close now, closer than ever.
But before she could reach them, a ripple in the air caught her attention. The atmosphere shifted, a dangerous aura emerging from the earth. Typhon, the leader of the Anakim, had sensed her presence. His instincts were sharp, despite his lack of magical proficiency. Even from miles away, he could feel the deadly intent that radiated from her. It was unlike anything he had ever encountered, a suffocating pressure that warned him of impending doom.
“Prepare yourselves!” Typhon bellowed to his group, his voice thunderous and commanding. His warriors, though confused, responded immediately. The air around them crackled with tension as they braced for whatever was coming.
Typhon slammed his foot into the ground, channeling his connection to the earth. He muttered the incantation, the ancient words resonating with the land beneath him. "Spear of Gaia," he growled, his voice filled with authority. The ground trembled violently as a massive spear, crafted from solid rock and earth, shot up from the ground, towering above them in a matter of moments.
With a powerful heave, Typhon lifted the gigantic spear, its weight nothing in his powerful hands. Without hesitation, he hurled it with immense force, the sheer velocity causing the trees to bend and crack under the pressure. The spear tore through the sky, aimed directly at the source of the ominous aura—Meliae.
From her vantage point, Meliae saw the attack coming, her sharp eyes narrowing as the enormous earthen spear hurtled toward her with deadly precision. For a brief moment, the air was thick with tension, as though the entire world was holding its breath.
But then, in a graceful, fluid movement, she dodged the attack effortlessly. The spear missed her by a hair’s breadth, smashing into the forest below and leaving a crater in its wake. Meliae hovered above the destruction, her face alight with amusement. "How rude," she mused, her voice soft but dripping with malice.
She had finally caught up with them.
Hovering above, Meliae looked down upon the giants from the sky, her body floating effortlessly as if the wind itself carried her. From this height, the Anakim seemed almost insignificant, though their towering figures would have dwarfed any ordinary human. Her eyes locked on Typhon, the leader, a smirk playing at her lips.
"You’re the one who thinks he can stop me?" she called down, her voice echoing through the air. The forest seemed to hush at her words, as if it too was waiting to see what would happen next.
Typhon, though filled with tension, did not flinch. His eyes narrowed, and he motioned to his men to remain steady. "Who are you?" he demanded, his voice booming up to where she floated. "What do you want?"
Meliae laughed, a cold, unsettling sound. "I don’t want anything from you," she replied, her voice as sweet as it was dangerous. "But I’m here to take something from you… your lives."
With those words, the air around her shifted. The leaves of the forest rustled violently, drawn to her by an invisible force. Her control over nature was absolute, and now that she had found her targets, the true hunt could begin.
Typhon stood firm, his sharp eyes locking onto Meliae as she hovered above. Her chilling words echoed through the clearing, leaving a cold shiver in the air. The Anakim leader was silent for a moment, processing her intent. His calm exterior betrayed none of the unease that churned within him, but he could sense that this woman was dangerous, troublesome in ways he couldn’t yet fully grasp.
“What exactly do you want from us?” Typhon asked, his voice measured and even. He didn’t know who she was or what her purpose was, but he could tell that she wasn’t here for negotiation. Her aura was suffocating, filled with a dark, ancient power that made even his hardened warriors tense. But Typhon was a seasoned leader, and he would not be easily rattled.
Meliae’s expression shifted from amusement to cold indifference. “Your destruction,” she answered simply, her tone as sharp as a blade. “You and your kind bring ruin wherever you go. You ravage, you destroy, and you leave chaos in your wake.”
Typhon frowned, not fully understanding her accusation. "We have done nothing to you," he retorted. "Why seek our death? What reason could you have?"
Meliae’s gaze darkened as her energy flared around her, the forest responding to her anger. "You may not see it," she replied, her voice like ice. "But your very existence is a plague on this world. I don’t care for your excuses or your ignorance. You disrupt the balance, and for that, you must be erased."
Typhon stood his ground, watching her closely. As much as her words stirred unease, his mind was focused on something else. Hidden beneath his armor was a powerful artifact—a relic passed down through generations of his kind. The Eye of Vargr, an ancient tool designed to read the true depth of one's strength, even through layers of concealment and protection. It was said that no power could hide from its gaze.
As Meliae continued to speak, Typhon subtly activated the artifact. His pupils briefly flickered with a golden light, and the artifact revealed the vast ocean of power within Meliae. Her magic was deeply rooted, tied to the very life force of the world around them. She was far stronger than anything he had encountered before, far stronger than even Thalassa, a powerful entity he had once battled. Yet, even with that knowledge, he did not waver.
Meliae, however, wasn’t fooled. She felt the probing gaze of the Eye of Vargr and smirked. "Trying to gauge my power, are you?" she asked mockingly. “How about I show you a glimpse?”
Without warning, Meliae allowed her full strength to flare for a brief moment, directing all her energy toward Typhon. The pressure hit him like a tidal wave, the sheer magnitude of her power sending a shock through his body. His eyes widened for just a fraction of a second, a small crack in his composure. She was far stronger than he had anticipated. But he held his ground, his fists tightening around his weapon.
The other Anakim felt it too—Meliae’s power, oppressive and suffocating, licked at their senses. Yet, despite the immense pressure, they remained unusually calm. They were warriors of the highest order, used to battle and destruction. They exchanged quiet words among themselves, some even laughing softly at the situation.
“She’s got bite,” one of them muttered, smirking.
“Doesn’t matter,” another responded. “She’ll fall like the rest.”
Typhon, still gauging the situation, returned his gaze to Meliae. His mind worked quickly, analyzing her stance, her power, and the terrain around them. Though he remained cool, he knew this was not a battle that could be taken lightly.
“You speak of destruction as if it’s not the nature of this world,” Typhon said calmly, almost conversational. “Everything is born, everything dies. The strong consume the weak, and so the cycle continues. What makes you think you’re any different?”
Meliae’s lips curled into a smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “I’m not here to debate philosophy with you, giant. I’m here to end you.”
The tension in the air thickened, the forest itself seeming to hold its breath as the looming battle approached. Typhon glanced at his warriors, his grip tightening on his weapon.
“Prepare yourselves,” he ordered quietly. His men straightened, their calm demeanors hardening into readiness.
The Anakim giants towered over Meliae, each of them bristling with raw, untamed power. They were ready for a fight, and though Typhon, their second leader, stood back with watchful eyes, he seemed unconcerned. He believed that this newcomer, despite her unusual aura, was no match for their sheer physicality and elemental might.
But Meliae was different.
Her body hummed with a strange, otherworldly energy as she brandished her blade—an ethereal weapon forged in the heart of Ygdrana. It shimmered with an emerald glow, long and sleek, yet pulsating with ancient, primordial strength. It was not the typical brute force that the Anakim were used to facing. This was something far more dangerous, something more elegant.
The first Anakim, his body hardened into a near-indestructible metallic form, charged forward. His fists, larger than boulders, sought to crush her in one blow. With a roar, he swung down toward Meliae with the force of a mountain falling from the sky. Yet, just as his fist was about to make contact, Meliae seemed to disappear—a blur of movement.
Her dance began.
With an almost ethereal grace, Meliae spun through the air, her body twisting and turning with impossible agility. Her feet barely touched the ground as she weaved between the Anakim’s massive attacks. She danced around him, her blade glinting with a lethal light as it sliced through the air.
She called it Valkyrie’s Waltz—a series of swift, fluid movements that combined speed with precision. With each turn, she avoided the Anakim’s strikes effortlessly. The giant’s metallic fists pounded the earth where she once stood, but she was never there. Her blade struck out in between her movements, slashing at his Achilles tendons with surgical precision. The giant stumbled, his balance disrupted as he fell to one knee.
Before he could react, Meliae unleashed Seraphim's Cut. Her blade moved faster than the eye could follow, and in one fluid motion, she severed the giant's head from his shoulders. His metallic body crashed to the ground with a deafening thud, lifeless.
The other Anakim, witnessing their comrade’s fall, didn’t retreat. Instead, they growled in anger. The second one, a master of earth manipulation, stomped his foot into the ground. The earth rumbled beneath Meliae, shifting and cracking as massive pillars of stone shot upward, attempting to trap her.
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But once again, Meliae danced. Her body flickered in and out of view as she used Phantom Step, a skill that allowed her to move faster than her opponents could perceive. She leapt from pillar to pillar, her movements like the flutter of a leaf caught in the wind, always one step ahead.
The earth giant, growing frustrated, summoned a massive wall of rock to try and crush her. But Meliae didn’t flinch. Instead, she used Astral Reaver, a strike that channeled her energy into her blade. With one swift slash, she cleaved the wall of stone in half, the sheer force of the attack sending shockwaves through the battlefield.
In a flash, she was upon the earth giant. Her blade sliced through his knee, forcing him to collapse. Before he could recover, she plunged her sword through his chest, piercing his heart with precision. The giant roared in agony before falling silent, his body crumbling like the earth he once commanded.
The final Anakim, wielding a colossal sword, stood waiting. His eyes narrowed as he watched Meliae, trying to gauge her next move. He swung his sword in an arc, releasing a massive shockwave that tore through the landscape. The ground split, trees were uprooted, and the very air seemed to tremble under the force of the attack.
But Meliae didn’t falter. She sidestepped the shockwave with effortless ease, her body twisting in mid-air as she launched herself towards him. The Anakim raised his sword to defend himself, but Meliae’s movements were too quick.
With Hollow Flash, she disappeared in a blur, reappearing behind the giant in an instant. Her blade struck true, carving a deep gash across his back. The giant howled in pain and swung his sword wildly, but Meliae was already gone, her form moving with the grace of a dancer.
As the Anakim struggled to turn and face her, Meliae activated her final skill, Celestial Lament. She shot into the sky, her body surrounded by a radiant aura. From above, she descended like a comet, her blade aimed directly at the giant’s head. The impact was devastating. Her sword pierced through the Anakim’s skull, the force of the blow shattering the earth beneath him. His body went limp and collapsed in a heap.
The battlefield was silent. Typhon stood still, his eyes wide with disbelief. His comrades, some of the most powerful beings in their realm, had been utterly decimated, and they hadn’t even managed to land a single blow on her.
But Meliae wasn’t done. She hovered above the fallen Anakim, her gaze cold and detached as she surveyed the destruction. With a calm precision, she raised her hand, and the air around her began to tremble.
She unleashed Crimson Annihilation, a cataclysmic explosion of energy that radiated outwards with atomic-level force. The landscape was instantly vaporized, the sheer power of the blast reducing the Anakim’s bodies to ash. The ground split apart, creating fissures that stretched out for miles.
But the destruction didn’t stop there. The blast reverberated across worlds, its aftershocks felt in distant realms.
The remaining Anakim, enraged by the sight of their fallen comrades, leaped toward Meliae in unison. Their towering bodies crashed through the air, weapons raised high, each of them exuding immense power. But Meliae remained still, her expression cold, her eyes gleaming with a detached calmness. In a single swift motion, she raised her blade, Ygdrana’s glow intensifying as the weapon connected with her spirit.
With a whispered incantation, she unleashed Lament of the Forsaken, a deadly skill designed for swift executions. Her body moved with a blur of motion, leaving trails of light as she danced between the giants. Her blade carved through the air with terrifying precision, severing their heads from their bodies in a matter of heartbeats. Each Anakim collapsed to the ground with a deafening thud, lifeless before they even realized they’d been struck.
The force of her attack was so great that the wind howled around them, and the very earth beneath them trembled in response. The aftershock of her lethal strike sent shockwaves across the battlefield, reaching Typhon himself. He barely had time to react, drawing his enormous blade just in time to shield himself from the onslaught. The impact of the blow forced him to step back several meters, his feet digging into the ground as he steadied himself.
When the dust settled, Typhon stood alone, his gaze locked on Meliae, who floated gracefully in the air. His expression remained unreadable, but there was a newfound wariness in his eyes. He now knew without a doubt that this woman was far more dangerous than he had anticipated.
Meliae lowered herself to the ground with an eerie grace, her blade still humming with the power of Ygdrana. The battlefield was silent, save for the faint whisper of the wind and the distant groaning of the land that had been reshaped by the ferocity of their clash. She turned her cold gaze toward Typhon, her posture relaxed, as if she hadn’t just obliterated his entire team with little effort.
“You’re different,” Typhon finally spoke, his voice deep and measured. His hand gripped his sword tightly, the ring on his finger glowing faintly with elemental energy. “Stronger than the others.”
Meliae tilted her head slightly, her eyes narrowing. “You and your kind have caused irreparable harm to this world. I’m merely restoring balance.”
Typhon gave a low chuckle, though there was no humour in his eyes. “Balance? Is that what you call this slaughter?” He gestured toward the fallen bodies of the Anakim, their heads severed cleanly, blood pooling around their massive forms. “What are we to you? Just obstacles to be removed?”
“You are,” Meliae replied coolly, her voice steady and devoid of emotion. “The chaos you spread leaves only destruction in its wake. You’ve upset the natural order, and for that, you’ll be erased.”
Typhon’s eyes flickered with something—an acknowledgment of her power, but also a stubborn determination. “I see,” he muttered, taking a step forward. “Then let’s see if you can erase me.”
Without warning, the ring on his finger pulsed with a blinding light. The air around them shifted violently as elemental forces erupted from the artifact. Typhon raised his hand to the sky, and with a single word of command, the landscape around them began to reshape itself.
Massive stone pillars erupted from the ground, forming a jagged arena around them. The winds howled and raged, swirling into a violent vortex that tore at the earth. Lightning crackled in the sky, and thunder roared as the elements answered Typhon’s call.
Meliae’s eyes narrowed as she observed the transformation, her cold composure unshaken. Typhon’s body began to shimmer, his skin taking on a metallic sheen far stronger than the others she had fought. His form seemed almost invincible, and she knew at a glance that his metallisation was far beyond anything she had encountered before. He radiated a power that dwarfed that of his fallen comrades.
Typhon wasted no time. He charged at her with frightening speed, his colossal sword slashing through the air with a force that could cleave mountains. The blade hummed with elemental energy, a crackling mix of lightning and fire that surged toward Meliae.
But she was ready.
With a fluid motion, Meliae summoned the power of Ygdrana, the roots of the sacred tree emerging from the ground to meet her command. They twisted and coiled around her, forming a living shield as she moved gracefully to dodge Typhon’s strikes. Her agility was unmatched, her body flowing like water as she weaved between his attacks.
Typhon’s blade crashed against the roots, sending sparks flying, but Meliae remained untouched. With a flick of her wrist, she directed the roots to strike back, their sharp tendrils lashing out at Typhon like serpents. He grunted as they struck his metallic body, but the roots couldn’t penetrate his hardened form.
“Is that all?” Typhon taunted, his voice dripping with arrogance. “You can’t break through my skin, can you?”
Meliae’s expression didn’t change. Instead, she raised her blade, and with a single command, the roots shifted. They twisted and coiled around Typhon’s legs, locking him in place. For a brief moment, his eyes widened in surprise, but it was too late.
Meliae whispered the name of her next skill, Spectral Requiem. Her blade glowed with an eerie light, and in one swift motion, she slashed through the air. The energy from her strike tore through the roots and connected with Typhon’s metallic body. The impact was catastrophic. The force of the blow shattered the ground beneath him, and for a moment, even the natural order of the elements around them seemed to pause.
Typhon staggered back, blood dripping from the cracks in his armor-like skin. He gritted his teeth, his ring glowing brighter as he summoned more power. The wind howled louder, the ground splitting open as earthquakes rippled through the land. Fire erupted from the cracks, and the sky darkened as if the world itself was reacting to the fury of their battle.
But Meliae remained calm, her gaze unwavering. She raised her blade again, this time summoning the full power of Ygdrana. The roots of the tree surged forward, wrapping around Typhon with a force that even his metallic body couldn’t resist.
Typhon roared in defiance, but Meliae’s next move was already in motion.
“Oblivion Blossom,” she whispered.
The roots tightened around him, glowing with an intense, blinding light. And then, with a deafening crack, the energy exploded outward. Typhon’s metallic body was ripped apart, piece by piece, disintegrating under the sheer power of Meliae’s attack.
The shockwave from the explosion ripped through the battlefield, reshaping the landscape once again. The jagged stone pillars crumbled, the fires were snuffed out, and the winds died down.
Typhon emerged from the blazing, crackling blue flames that surrounded him, his once dark, imposing metallic body now transformed into a radiant gold. The molten shimmer of his newly enhanced form glinted with an otherworldly sheen, as though the very fire that had engulfed him had forged something far more terrifying. His once cold, metallic form had become the embodiment of divine wrath.
With a calm, heavy breath, Typhon spoke, his deep voice echoing ominously through the now silent, devastated battlefield. "We were fated to be destroyed by the gods in our original world... merely a product of their own hubris. Created for war, discarded for peace. But we survived."
As he stepped forward, alive and completely unscathed from the inferno, Meliae couldn't believe her eyes. For the first time, her stoic, emotionless expression faltered. Her eyes widened in shock—an unfamiliar sense of dread gnawing at her heart. She had underestimated him, and now the tables had turned.
Before Meliae could react, Typhon's massive, golden fist slammed into her chest with the force of a comet. Her body buckled under the sheer weight of the blow, her mind reeling from the sudden, excruciating pain.
“Urgh!” Meliae gasped, the sound escaping her lips involuntarily as the wind was knocked out of her lungs. Her body was sent flying, a blur across the horizon as she tore through mountains, each impact cracking her bones with sickening snaps. Her ribs fractured from the force, blood spraying from her mouth as she finally crashed into the earth, creating a massive crater on impact.
The world seemed to blur around her as she tried to regain her breath, her vision flickering. Pain radiated through her entire body, and for the first time in a long while, Meliae felt vulnerable. She coughed violently, splattering blood across the ground, her once-perfect composure shattered.
Typhon, standing tall amidst the lingering flames, stared at the residual marks of his attack imprinted on his golden hand. He walked forward, his footsteps heavy and deliberate, the ground cracking beneath his weight. "The gods feared us," he began, his tone carrying a strange mix of melancholy and pride. "Feared what we could become. They built us as tools—soldiers in their wars, their grand schemes—and yet, when the wars ended, they sought to erase us. We were too dangerous... too close to their level."
His eyes darkened as he recalled the past. "But they were fools. They feared what they had created... what we inherited from the fallen ones—those they themselves had forsaken."
He raised his glowing golden arm, the light reflecting the surrounding devastation. "This form, this power... it's something only a few of us ever attain. It is unlocked at the brink of death, when we are closest to destruction. It's our inheritance from the primordial gods, from those who defied them long ago. This golden body... it is beyond magic, beyond the laws of the world. No magic can penetrate it, no weapon can wound it. The gods’ own creation... their perfect fear."
Meliae, still lying in the crater, struggled to push herself up, her body trembling as she forced herself to stand. Her breath came in ragged gasps, blood staining her lips. Her mind raced as she tried to comprehend what she was facing. She had never encountered a being like this—an entity that defied the natural order so completely. Typhon was no longer bound by the limitations of the world’s magic or the physical plane.
Typhon continued, his eyes flickering with a strange sadness as he gazed at Meliae. "The Demon King was the one who saved us—me, my brother, and my sister. We were lost, hunted by those gods and their chosen heroes, like cattle for the slaughter. But the Demon King... he saw potential in us. He gave us purpose. He gave us names."
At the mention of his sister, Typhon’s voice darkened, his golden hand clenching into a fist. "But my sister... she was killed by those so-called heroes. Innocent, yet hunted down like a beast." His eyes turned to Meliae, cold and unyielding. "And all I seek now is revenge. Revenge against the gods, against their heroes... against everything they stand for."
He paused, his gaze steady and unblinking as he spoke, "You and I, Meliae... we're not so different. We are both outcasts, anomalies in the grand scheme. The gods fear us because we do not belong to their design. But unlike you, I have chosen my path."
Typhon leapt into the sky, his golden form cutting through the air like a meteor, landing directly in front of Meliae with a resounding crash. The force of his landing sent a tremor through the earth, nearly causing her to lose her footing again as she coughed, blood still dripping from her lips.
"You understand, don’t you?" asked, his voice quieter now, almost introspective. "The Demon Lord... he gave me a name. Typhon. The name carries power—far more than you can comprehend. In the old myths, names were sacred, the core of one's being. To be named by someone greater than yourself is an honour... an acknowledgement of your existence. It strengthens the soul, enhances one's abilities, and solidifies your purpose."
He tilted his head slightly, his glowing eyes gleaming with a faint trace of nostalgia. "Before I was given my name, I was nothing—just another weapon, a tool to be discarded. But now... now I am something more. I am Typhon, and with this name, my strength has grown a hundredfold. It is the key to unlocking this form... this body that cannot be harmed, this power that reshapes reality."
Typhon’s eyes hardened as he looked down at Meliae, who was still trying to compose herself, the weight of his words sinking in. "What do you think of the Demon Lord?" he asked, his voice low but filled with an eerie intensity. "What do you think of the one who gave me this purpose?"
His question hung in the air, as if her answer would determine her fate in the coming moments. Typhon's golden form loomed over her like a vengeful god, his aura exuding an almost divine power. The wind stilled, and even the landscape seemed to hold its breath, waiting for Meliae’s response.