The towering Warden let out a guttural roar as it released a massive ball of spiked roots, hurling it toward Ryo with devastating force.
But Ryo didn’t flinch.
He spun the closed giant fan in his hand, the motion graceful—almost effortless—like a dancer weaving through wind. With a sharp flick of his wrist, the fan snapped open, its size casting a brief shadow over the ground.
“Begone.”
With a single motion, he fanned the air forward.
A violent gust surged from the fan’s face, howling like a typhoon let loose. The incoming spike-ball shattered midair, its wooden shards scattered like dry leaves in a storm. The force didn’t stop there—the entire treeline bent and snapped as the wind struck the Warden dead on.
The Rank-A monster, a titan of knotted roots and barked flesh, was launched backward like a doll caught in a hurricane.
[SYSTEM NOTICE: Skill ‘Raewen – Tempest Fan Art’ executed. Target forcibly repelled. Casualty Count: …Let’s just say you redecorated the forest.]
The Warden let out a bellowing screech and thrust its massive arm forward. From its gnarled limb, thick roots exploded out, twisting like spears, all aimed to impale Ryo.
But Ryo didn’t blink.
In one fluid motion, he snapped his giant fan closed and spun it like a staff, deflecting the piercing roots with a deadly elegance. Each strike against the roots was like the clang of a blade—sharp, precise, final.
He twisted, sidestepped, then whipped the fan like a javelin—THWACK!
It slammed against the Warden’s face with a solid crunch, snapping the beast’s head to the side.
In the blink of an eye, Ryo vanished—then reappeared mid-air, his hand catching the fan before it touched the ground.
His eyes narrowed.
With a flick, the fan opened wide once more. He drew it back.
“Fanged Gale…”
The moment the whisper left his lips, the fan surged with stormlight.
He fanned.
A monstrous gust exploded forward—shaped like a spiraling wolf with wind-blades for fangs. The Warden didn’t even scream. It was flattened, shredded, buried under a crushing storm.
Boom.
Wood splinters, roots, and dust scattered in every direction.
[SYSTEM NOTICE: ‘Fanged Gale’ executed successfully. Target: obliterated.
Style Rating: 9.9/10. Fan-tastic execution.]
The Warden surged up once more, roots thickening and twisting like living armor, growing larger and more imposing—an unstoppable force of nature made flesh.
Ryo narrowed his eyes, cracked his knuckles, and said,
“Time to butter this tree’s toast.”
[SYSTEM NOTICE: Literal translation failed. Please avoid culinary metaphors during combat.]
[SYSTEM NOTICE: MC logic at 2%. Initiating sarcastic remarks.]
[SYSTEM]: “Are you fighting a forest or trying to make breakfast?”
Ryo just smirked and readied his fan.
He closed the fan with a sharp twirl and slid it to his side, eyes cold and focused.
“Hey, you really think this is the fan’s real power? Nah. I just awakened it in the form I want—or the form it wants. And trust me, I can ascend it to its highest form.”
He smirked, voice low but deadly.
“The only drawback? It’ll shatter... but by then, it won’t matter.”
[SYSTEM NOTICE: Warning — Fan lifespan expected to drop faster than MC’s common sense.]
[SYSTEM]: “Warning: Shattered weapon, shattered ego?”
Ryo just shrugged.
He pulled the fan with his left hand, his right palm pressing close to the weapon.
“Awaken, and shatter all bounds.”
The fan began to glow softly at first, then a surge of crystalline light exploded along its ribs. Blue-green crystals blossomed like frozen waves, shimmering with a radiant, almost otherworldly glow. A faint wind stirred around it, carrying whispers of power that seemed to echo from another realm. The edges of the fan flickered with ethereal mist, and faint runes pulsed beneath the crystalline surface, their meanings lost to time.
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The air around Ryo thickened with energy as the fan radiated a gentle hum — like the song of a distant storm brewing.
Ryo’s eyes gleamed with quiet reverence as he whispered, “I call it Gwaewriel, the Wind Maiden.”
[SYSTEM NOTICE: Name accepted. Gwaewriel — a weapon that bends wind and whispers of forgotten power.]
[SYSTEM]: “Don’t ask me what it does exactly — even I’m scared to find out. But hey, looking cool is half the battle.”
As Ryo grasped Gwaewriel, the Wind Maiden, the air stilled as if holding its breath.
A pulse of emerald-blue light coursed through the fan, and the wind began to swirl with a will of its own. Crystalline feathers of wind and energy shimmered around him, painting streaks of glowing green and icy blue across the air. The earth quivered beneath his feet — not from fear, but reverence.
Ryo closed his eyes.
The fan shimmered.
Then, he leapt.
Mid-air, time seemed to freeze. His cloak rippled with divine grace, hair rising with the current of raw energy coiling around him. As he raised the fan, his voice rang out like a prophecy:
"Caeliventus."
The moment the words left his lips, reality cracked.
A titanic shockwave of celestial wind burst forth — not mere air, but a cosmic typhoon laced with stars, tearing through dimensions. The sky didn't just clear — it was peeled away, revealing a sprawling galactic ocean above, where shimmering constellations spun in unnatural orbits. Gravity faltered. The forest below was reduced to glowing dust. Even space bent, flickering with astral distortion.
Each sweep of the fan felt like the swing of a god’s arm.
And at the heart of the destruction stood Ryo, descending slowly, calmly — untouched.
---
[SYSTEM NOTICE: You have unleashed Caeliventus, the Forbidden Wind of Celestial Collapse. Casualties: Reality. Side effects may include divine fear, interdimensional tears, and godlike drip.]
Ryo opened his eyes, then smirked as he closed the fan with a subtle snap.
“That was just a breeze.”
As the last of the cosmic wind faded, the battlefield lay silent — carved clean into nothingness, as though creation itself had been swept aside. Even the massive Warden, once a towering terror of root and rage, was gone without a trace.
Ryo landed gently on the cracked earth, Gwaewriel still glowing in his hand... but only for a moment.
A single fracture splintered across the crystalline fan.
Then another.
And then — shatter.
The Wind Maiden crumbled in his grasp, scattering into glimmering shards of blue and green, each fragment floating upward like dying fireflies. The light they cast was warm… peaceful… final.
He stared at the broken remains, unmoving.
Then, with a faint, nostalgic smile tugging at his lips, he whispered:
"Goodbye, leaf."
The wind answered, swirling around him one last time — not as a weapon, but as a memory.
---
[SYSTEM NOTICE: Weapon 'Gwaewriel — The Wind Maiden' has been destroyed. Cause: Absolute Overuse. Respect.]
[SYSTEM COMMENT: You really just broke the universe with a leaf. Who does that?]
[Finland – City of Tampere, A-Gate Outbreak]
Sirens wailed across the snowy streets, smoke rising from shattered buildings. The once-bustling city square was now a battlefield—a ruined mess of blood, broken concrete, and burning hunter corpses. A massive A-Gate had cracked open above the frozen lake, releasing a horde of grotesque, horned beasts and serpentine aberrations that tore through squads of A and B-rank hunters like paper.
"Hold the line—don’t let them reach the evac zone!" a female hunter screamed, blood on her cheek as she flung fire from her hands.
They were losing.
And then...
The wind stopped.
The ground... trembled.
THUD.
A single footstep echoed through the chaos.
He emerged through the dust. Slow. Calm. A silhouette at first.
As his form stepped into the sunlight—his frame shifted.
Muscles expanded, veins crackling with power. His torso stretched and ripped through the fabric of his black shirt, revealing a sculpted, armor-like physique that gleamed under the northern sun.
A hush fell across the battlefield.
In one hand, he dragged a golden greatsword taller than most men — not carrying it, dragging it, as if the weight meant nothing.
The monsters paused.
The hunters froze.
He looked up, golden eyes burning like suns.
Then, with a voice like thunder rippling through glaciers, he spoke one word:
"Begin."
He vanished — a blur.
And in the next second, a dozen monsters were split in half — golden arcs of energy carved into the sky, trailing divine light.
The creatures charged — a tsunami of claws, fangs, and madness. Thousands.
But he didn’t flinch.
He stood tall — back straight, chin raised, golden hair swaying in the frost-kissed wind. The massive greatsword rested across his shoulder, the sun reflecting off its gilded edge like a divine warning.
A slow, prideful smile stretched across his lips.
Then came his voice — deep, commanding, dripping with arrogance:
“You’re lucky…”
He lifted the sword, one hand, effortlessly.
“…to witness this…”
His aura erupted in golden fire, swirling like a solar storm.
“…before you fall.”
The greatsword surged with light. Radiant runes etched across its surface ignited — pulsing like a heartbeat, louder than war drums. The temperature skyrocketed. The snow melted in a single breath.
And then — his voice, slower, prouder, godlike:
“Bright Flame.”
He swung.
No wind. No thunder.
Just a blinding white flash — like a second sun igniting at ground level.
Thousands of monsters ignited mid-charge, consumed in a wave of golden fire that danced like liquid lightning, turning bone, scale, and steel to ash in an instant. The heat scorched the sky. Even clouds above hissed and curled away.
When the light faded, only blackened earth remained.
The battlefield, moments ago overflowing with death, was now a silent, smoldering wasteland.
He stood at the center.
Untouched.
Alone.
Magnificent.
