Chapter 10: The Breaking Point

  Fernandez froze, his grip tightening on the hybrid axe. The sound was distant but unmistakable—boots striking tile, quick and frantic, heading straight for them. His eyes narrowed, the weariness in his posture evaporating as instinct took over. He had no idea who—or what—was coming, but the weight of the axe in his hands felt solid, ready.

  “Let’s see what this thing can do,” he thought, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips as he opened the flashing notification hovering in the corner of his vision.

  System Notification

  Item Acquired: Blood-Borne Shield-Axe of El Cid

  Type: Hybrid Weapon (Shield + Axe)

  Class: Legendary

  Bound to: Hector Fernandez

  Description:

  Forged through the bloodline resonance of Rodrigo Díaz de Vivar, El Cid Campeador, this hybrid relic merges the resilience of a shield and the ferocity of an axe. Infused with Isabel Hart’s enhancement ability, it is a weapon of unmatched durability and devastating power, built for both defense and offense.

  Abilities

  1. Crimson Edge (Active)

  Effect: Successful strikes apply a stacking Bleed effect.

  Damage: Deals 5% of the target’s max health as bleed damage over 10 seconds.

  Stacks: Up to 3 times.

  2. Rend of the Protector (Triggered on Critical Hits)

  Effect: Critical hits reduce enemy armor and slow movement.

  Debuff: -15% armor for 15 seconds.

  Slow: -10% movement speed.

  Bonus Damage: +20% against enemies targeting allies.

  3. Spiked Retribution (Passive)

  Effect: Blocking melee attacks damages attackers.

  Damage: Reflects 50% of blocked damage back to the attacker.

  Additional Effect: Chance to stagger the attacker.

  4. Bloodline Awakening (Passive - Conditional Trigger)

  Trigger: Activates when Hector Fernandez’s health drops below 50%.

  Effect:

  +15% base damage.

  Critical hits have a 30% chance to decapitate enemies below 20% health.

  Synergistic Traits

  1. Extendable Axe Handle:

  The weapon’s axe handle can extend or retract based on Fernandez’s intent:

  Extended Mode: Functions as a two-handed weapon for devastating strikes.

  Retracted Mode: Fuses seamlessly into the shield’s back, allowing for enhanced defensive maneuvers.

  Dynamic Transition: Switching between modes takes less than 1 second, allowing for fluid adaptation in combat.

  2. Dual-Purpose Design:

  Shield Mode: Absorbs and deflects attacks with high durability.

  Axe Mode: Capable of devastating two-handed strikes.

  Fernandez finished looking over the notification, the details burning into his mind as the axe seemed to hum faintly in his grip. He flexed his fingers around the handle, testing its weight. It felt impossibly balanced for something so large, the heft of it promising devastating power with each swing. The faint, crimson pulse from the shield’s edges cast fleeting shadows across the floor, its presence both a reassurance and a warning.

  Izzy’s hand shot out suddenly, gripping his arm tightly. “We should hide,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the oppressive silence. Her wide eyes darted toward the the distant echoes of pounding footsteps growing louder with every second. “Whatever’s out there… it’s getting closer.”

  Fernandez froze for a fraction of a second, his grip on the shield-axe tightening instinctively. She’s right. If they’re running, we could stay out of sight—let them pass, he thought. His gaze swept the room, noting the rows of darkened displays and the faint glint of shattered glass under the emergency lights. He took a slow, deliberate breath, weighing their options.

  His head tilted slightly, his body going still as he strained to listen. Boots on tile, quick and uneven—too frantic to be a controlled approach. His mind raced, cataloging possibilities: civilians? Enemy players? Something worse?

  Izzy tugged his arm again, her voice more desperate this time. “Fernandez! We need to move—now!”

  He glanced at her, his gaze sharp but not unkind. She was shaking, and the fear in her eyes was real, raw—and justified. Her survival instincts were kicking in, and for someone not used to combat, hiding was the only logical response.

  Fernandez gave a single, curt nod, his grip on the hybrid weapon loosening slightly as he made his decision. “Alright,” he said, his voice low and steady. “We hide. But if they’re coming for us, I’m fighting them off. Stay quiet, stay behind cover, and don’t move unless I tell you.”

  Izzy exhaled shakily, relief flashing across her face before she nodded. “Where?” she whispered, her voice trembling as her eyes darted around the room.

  Fernandez scanned their surroundings quickly. The Spanish exhibit hall was cluttered with toppled cases, broken banners, and remnants of ancient artifacts. His gaze landed on a large, overturned display case near the far wall. Its jagged edges jutted upward like teeth, but the shadows beneath it offered enough space for Izzy to squeeze through.

  “There.” He pointed toward the case, already moving to guide her. “Get under that. Stay low and out of sight. If anything happens—”

  Izzy didn’t let him finish. She nodded, clutching the strap of her satchel tightly to her chest as she darted toward the case. Her breath hitched as she crouched and crawled into the cramped space, her hands brushing against shards of glass. She bit back a yelp, forcing herself to keep quiet.

  Fernandez turned back toward the corridor, his stance shifting as he held the shield-axe in both hands. The axe handle extended with a faint mechanical hiss, the weapon’s crimson edges pulsing softly as if sensing his rising tension. He planted his feet firmly, angling the shield forward while keeping it slightly aloft ready for a counterattack. His eyes narrowed, his breathing steady as he waited.

  The sound of footsteps grew louder, echoing off the museum walls like a heartbeat. It wasn’t just one pair—it was several. The frantic rhythm of boots striking tile sent a chill down his spine.

  If they’re running, they might not even notice us. The thought passed through his mind again offering a sliver of hope, but he didn’t dare count on it.

  Izzy’s face appeared faintly in the corner of his vision, peeking out from under the display case. Her face tensed with fear, but she stayed silent, her trembling hands gripping her knees tightly.

  The footsteps reached the edge of the corridor. Fernandez tightened his grip, his knuckles whitening as he shifted his weight. Every muscle in his body coiled, ready to spring into action if they turned the corner.

  The noise came to an abrupt stop, the silence pressing in like a vice.

  Fernandez held his breath, his senses straining to pick up any sign of movement. Keep going, he willed silently. Just keep running.

  Then, faint and unmistakable, came the sound of a voice—a low, panicked whisper that sent chills down his spine.

  “…He’s right behind us!” The voice was frantic, cracking under the weight of desperation. A second voice, sharp and trembling, hissed back, “Shut up! Keep moving—don’t stop!”

  The footsteps resumed, faster now, their rhythm uneven and panicked. Fernandez’s heart pounded in time with the echoes as he pressed his back against a shattered pillar, the shield-axe at the ready. He could see the faint flicker of shadows on the walls, stretching and twisting with every step closer.

  Whoever they are, they’re running from something bad, Fernandez thought grimly. He glanced toward Izzy’s hiding spot beneath the display case. Her pale face peeked out, her lips pressed tightly together as if even breathing might give them away.

  The first figure stumbled into view, a young man—barely more than a kid—dressed in torn, blood-streaked clothes. His sandy brown hair clung to his sweat-soaked forehead, and his wild green eyes darted around the room. Clutching a strange, faintly glowing device in one hand, he nearly collapsed as he rounded the corner, his breaths coming in ragged gasps.

  Fernandez’s eyes narrowed. He’s too young for this. He thought.

  The boy froze mid-step as his frantic gaze landed on the display case. His mouth fell open, his face contorting with disbelief, at the face staring slack jaw at him. “Izzy?” he whispered hoarsely, his voice carrying a note of recognition that sliced through the tension like a blade.

  Izzy’s breath hitched, her wide eyes locking onto the boy. “Connor?” Her voice was barely audible, trembling with equal parts shock and relief.

  Fernandez stiffened, his focus shifting between the two of them. He glanced at Izzy, whose trembling hands gripped the edge of the case as though it were the only thing keeping her grounded. He vaguely remembered seeing the boy earlier when he rescued Izzy but she clearly knew him. That complicated things.

  Two others followed—a gaunt man with a limp and a woman dragging a makeshift weapon behind her. The man had one arm wrapped tightly around his torso, and his wheezing breaths filled the air like a death rattle. The woman clung to the pipe in her hands like it was a lifeline, her eyes wide and unblinking as they darted to every corner of the exhibit.

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  The last two stragglers came into view moments later. A wiry teen with a bloodied, limp arm barely stayed on his feet, his steps faltering with every movement. A stocky, older man shoved him forward with a rough growl, his voice hoarse but forceful. “Move, damn it!”

  Fernandez scanned the group quickly, assessing them with a soldier’s precision. Five. Four unarmed. No combat training. They’re already dead if whatever’s chasing them catches up.

  His eyes flicked between them as they stumbled into the exhibit, their panicked breathing filling the air. — the woman with the pipe had a faint shimmer of light running along the weapon’s edge, like she was barely holding a low-grade energy charge. The stocky man who had shoved the injured teen was muttering under his breath, his hands faintly sparking with static energy as he glanced nervously over his shoulder.

  They weren’t completely helpless. But they weren’t prepared, either.

  The group barely had time to catch their breath before a voice drifted from the corridor, smooth and mocking, each word dripping with malice.

  “Squeak, squeak, squeak,” it said, soft and taunting. “I hear you, little rats. Running through my halls, scurrying like you can escape.”

  Connor’s head snapped toward the sound, his eyes wide with terror. The boy’s chest heaved as he clutched the glowing device tighter to his chest, his lips trembling. “No… no, he’s here,” he whispered hoarsely, barely loud enough for Fernandez to catch.

  The injured teen whimpered, trying to kneel, putting his hands over his ears, but the older man grabbed his arm, forcing him to stay upright. “Shut up,” the stocky man hissed, his hands sparking faintly as his eyes scanned the room. “Don’t lose it now.” he whispered to the teen.

  The woman gripped her pipe with both hands, the faint energy glow along its edge flickering erratically. She turned her head, her gaze darting toward every shadow as she swallowed hard. “He’s playing with us,” she muttered, barely audible.

  The voice came again, closer this time, the tone laced with dark amusement. “Did you see it?” he asked. “The masterpiece in the hallway?” It’s my feeding room.” “The kids were particularly sweet. I always save them for dessert.” He said as he stepped into the exhibit with a slow, deliberate stride.

  The figure that stepped into the room wasn’t a beast, but he moved like one—silent, predatory, his every motion exuding lethal intent. He stood over seven feet tall, his towering frame was streaked with blood, his tattered clothing clinging to a body forged for violence. His hulking back and chest seemed to absorb the flickering emergency lights. Metal claws extended from his knuckles, each razor-sharp blade catching the faint crimson glow from the shattered glass around him. His feral grin stretched wide, revealing teeth that gleamed like polished bone.

  “Ah,” he said, his voice a low, guttural growl. “I’m glad you’ve all stumbled into my lair," coming to a crouch as if he was a jaguar ready to pounce. His movements were fluid, almost unnaturally so, as he scanned the Spanish exhibit hall.

  His head tilted, almost curious, He sniffed the air, his chest expanding as if savoring the fear that radiated from the survivors like a tangible force. The way he crouched and tilted his head, sniffing the air, sent a shiver down Fernandez’s spine.

  Well, well,” he growled, his voice low and guttural, carrying an unsettling calm. “Looks like I’ve got more rats to skewer he said, looking directly at Fernandez.

  The survivors froze. The young man, Connor, pressed himself against a display case, trembling as the others tried to back away. One stumbled over a broken banner stand, their panicked yelp earning a sharp snap of the feral man’s head in their direction.

  The metallic claws scraped against the floor as the man flexed his fingers, his grin widening. “Running’s no fun,” he snarled, his voice like gravel dragged over steel. “You’re just making me hungry.”

  The injured teen next to the stocky man, scrambled back “P-please,” he stammered, his voice breaking. “We didn’t—”The boy said, hyperventilating, his knees buckling as he clutched at his stomach.

  The stocky man stepped in front of him, electricity sparking more violently now as his fear turned to fury.

  “Ah, yes” he purred back, his tone dripping with mockery. “Look at this. A buffet with some spice. I like it when they fight back—it makes the end so much more…tasty.” He laughed, sinisterly.

  “Shut up!” The stocky man, snarled, thrusting his hands forward. A jagged bolt of lightning arced through the air, crackling toward the feral man.

  The predator didn’t dodge. The bolt struck him square in the chest, lighting up his frame as electricity coursed through his body. He staggered slightly, smoke curling from his shoulders. But then he laughed—a deep, guttural sound that echoed off the exhibit walls.

  “Was that supposed to hurt?” he asked mockingly, brushing a smoldering patch on his chest. “It tickled.”

  The older man shoved the teen behind him, his sparking hands flaring brighter as his desperation peaked. “Stay back!” he shouted, thrusting his palms forward in a desperate attempt to summon another bolt of lightning.

  He barely had time to react before the feral man lunged, closing the distance in a blur of speed. His claws flashed in the dim light, slicing across the man’s torso with brutal precision. Blood sprayed across the floor as the man crumpled, his body twitching as the remnants of his power fizzled out.

  The teen screamed, falling to his knees. His sobs echoed in the shattered hall as he clutched his bleeding arm. “Please… no… don’t…”

  The woman with the pipe screamed, but she didn’t back down. The glow along her weapon intensified as she charged forward, swinging the energized metal in a wide arc to keep him away “Stay back!” she shouted, her voice cracking, but fierce.

  “Squeak, squeak, squeak,” the predator murmured, his voice soft and mocking, cutting through the still air like a blade. “You scurry so desperately, so noisily.

  The woman with the pipe attacked, the glow along her weapon flared into a pulsating, blue, as streaks of crackling kinetic energy raced up and down its surface. She planted her feet and swung the pipe, shouting, “Kinetic Strike!”

  The swing collided with the predator’s extended claws, and the impact detonated with a concussive wave. Shards of shattered display cases blasted outward, and a nearby suit of armor toppled with a metallic crash. The kinetic force rippled outward, momentarily obscuring the scene in a haze of debris.

  Fernandez’s muscles tensed. She’s buying time, he calculated, his grip on the shield-axe tightened as his body seemed to begin moving on its own toward the chaos, he mentally gauged his next move. Time to end this before she ends up like the last guy.

  The predator moved with impossible agility, bursting through the debris cloud and lunging at her from an angle she didn’t anticipate. Instead of charging head-on, he leaped sideways, claws catching a nearby stone column. His body twisted unnaturally as he scaled it in a heartbeat, bounding to the ceiling with a feral grace that sent shards of plaster everywhere.

  The woman couldn't react before the predator launched himself downward like a striking panther. His claws sliced through the air, aimed directly for her torso. He twisted mid-air, his claws slicing cleanly through the pipe and raking across her stomach.

  She screamed, stumbling back as blood seemed to instantly pour from her body, and she pressed her hand tight to her waist, trying to keep her entrails from falling out . The kinetic charge fizzled out of her broken weapon as the predator landed in a crouch, blood dripping from his claws as he grinned, his bone white teeth, glistened in the dim light.

  The wiry teen stumbled backward, his limp arm shaking uncontrollably. “N-no, please,” he stammered, his voice cracking.

  The predator’s grin widened. “Squeak, squeak, squeak,” he whispered, crouching low. He licked the blood from his claws, his yellow eyes gleaming with malice. “Your fear smells so sweetly. I almost don’t want this to end.”

  “You had such fight in you,” he purred, his tone almost admiring. “Shame you’re so… fragile.” he said mockingly as he looked at the woman lying on the ground, holding her stomach, panting, slowly dying out.

  Fernandez didn’t hesitate any longer. He moved with purpose, the shield-axe humming faintly as he surged forward. Before he could close the distance, the air around everyone shifted.

  A low, groan vibrated through the room. It wasn’t from the predator, nor the dying woman—it came from Connor.

  Connor’s eyes looked wild and frantic, his pale green gaze locked on the carnage. His body trembled violently, his breaths shallow and erratic.

  Stop…”

  The word barely escaped Connor’s lips, fragile and trembling. It carried no force, no authority—just desperation.

  But then his voice broke, raw and frantic. “Stop! No—stop! Stop!” Each word grew louder, more panicked, like a dam cracking under pressure. His hands shot up, trembling violently as an unseen force rippled outward, distorting the air around him. The atmosphere became... Heavy. Suffocating.

  Fernandez felt it pressing down on him like invisible weights, forcing his shoulders to tense and the weight on the hybrid weapon seemed to double. The ground beneath his feet groaned in protest, cracks spidering through the tiles.

  “Connor!” Izzy’s voice was a choked whisper, laced with fear as she pressed herself deeper into the non-existent shelter of the display case. Her eyes darted between the boy and the predator, who had stopped mid-stride. His feral grin faltered slightly, his sharp yellow eyes narrowing as if sensing the growing power around Connor.

  Connor’s breaths came in short, ragged gasps, his pale green eyes darting wildly like a cornered animal. His hands clenched into fists, trembling so violently that Fernandez could see the tendons straining under his skin. Tears streaked his face, carving trails through the grime and blood, as the green device now floated in front of him.

  “I didn’t want this!” Connor cried, his voice breaking like a fractured mirror. “I never wanted any of this!”

  The predator cocked his head, his grin returning—wider now, almost gleeful. He dragged his claws lazily against the wall, the sound like nails on a chalkboard. “Such noise,” he purred, his tone mocking, cutting through the suffocating tension. “You’ve been holding back, haven’t you, little rat? Come on, show me what you’ve got.”

  Connor screamed, his voice cracking under the weight of his terror. The air around him pulsed violently, waves of energy radiating outward in chaotic bursts from the floating device. The walls vibrated as if they were about to buckle, and the glass shards littering the floor quivered before flying toward him, orbiting his trembling form like a storm of razor-sharp debris.

  “Kid, pull it together!” Fernandez barked, his voice sharp and commanding as he planted his shield-axe into the ground to steady himself. The pressure in the room was unbearable now, every breath a battle against an unseen weight.

  Connor didn’t—or couldn’t—hear him. His eyes were distant, unfocused, as the gravitational field around him grew denser, warping the air itself. Objects began lifting off the ground—a shattered display case, broken banners, even fragments of tile—all swirling in chaotic loops around the boy.

  The predator’s grin turned savage. “Oh, you’re breaking beautifully,” he sneered, crouching low, his claws flexing. “Let it out, little rat. Let’s see what you’re really made of.”

  “I said STOP!” Connor’s scream was raw, guttural, and filled with agony.

  And then everything about them exploded.

  The gravitational force erupted in a wave of unimaginable power, ripping through the Spanish exhibit hall like a bomb, before everything was sucked back towards the floating device.

  Display cases all around the exhibit shattered instantly, sending glass and debris flying back from every direction. The massive wooden beams supporting the ceiling groaned and splintered under the strain, dust and plaster raining down like ash from above.

  Fernandez was thrown, his body slamming into a nearby pillar with bone-rattling force. He grunted, his shield absorbing most of the impact, but the air was knocked from his lungs. He fought to stay conscious, his ears ringing and his vision swimming.

  Izzy screamed as her hiding place was torn apart, shards of glass and fragments of stone spinning around her like a deadly vortex. She curled into a ball, her arms shielding her head as the gravitational storm raged around her.

  The predator staggered, his footing faltering as the floor beneath him cracked and crumbled. He snarled, his claws digging into the walls as he scrambled to stay upright. The gravitational pull yanked at him, trying to drag him toward Connor like a black hole swallowing everything in its path.

  The two remaining survivors weren’t so lucky. The injured teen and the man with the limp screamed as they were pulled toward the epicenter, their bodies helpless against the overwhelming force. The man’s body began glowing but quickly fizzled out as he lost consciousness, his body slamming into the swirling debris with a sickening crunch. The teen’s limp arm flailed uselessly as he was dragged across the ground, his terrified screams cut off as a shattered display case collided with him.

  “Connor, stop!” Izzy’s voice was barely audible over the cacophony, her cries drowned out by the roar of destruction.

  Connor didn’t respond. His body trembled violently, his eyes glowing faintly as the gravitational storm intensified. The floor around him cracked and caved inward, forming a shallow crater at his feet. The predator clung to the wall, his claws gouging deep grooves into the stone as he fought to resist the pull.

  “Enough of this!” Fernandez growled, forcing himself to his feet despite the crushing pressure weighing him down. His eyes locked onto Connor, whose trembling form was on the verge of collapse.

  If I don’t stop this now, there won’t be anything left, Fernandez thought grimly. He gritted his teeth, adjusting his grip on the shield-axe as he prepared to move.

  The predator snarled, his eyes darting between Fernandez and Connor. “This little rat’s going to kill himself—and everyone else,” he growled, and with a burst of feral speed, the predator lunged toward Connor, his claws outstretched.

  Fernandez didn’t hesitate. He lunged forward, his shield-axe blazing with crimson energy as he intercepted the predator mid-strike, their weapons clashing in a burst of sparks. The impact sent a shockwave through the room, momentarily disrupting the gravitational field and giving Fernandez an opening.

  “Get your head on straight, kid!” Fernandez roared, his voice cutting through the chaos as he pushed the predator back with a brutal shield bash.

  Connor’s trembling hands fell to his sides, his glowing eyes flickering as the gravitational storm began to wane. The debris hanging in the air clattered to the ground, the oppressive pressure lifting slightly. But the damage had been done.

  Dust and silence filled the room as Fernandez squared off against the predator, his stance steady despite the chaos around him. Izzy coughed weakly, crawling out from the remnants of her hiding place as her wide eyes darted between Fernandez and Connor.

  This wasn’t over—not by a long shot.