Omfry watched her with an amused tilt to his head. “You know,” he said, voice soft as a silk thread, “after seeing you circulate your mana like Bravo, I got curious. I thought you’d at least be able to block it, or dodge it.”

  Isabela collapsed to her knees, breath heaving. Omfry crouched down until his face was level with hers, eyes cold and sharp.

  “Guess I expected too much,” he murmured, and then, with casual cruelty, he pressed two fingers against the place where a heart should beat.

  Isabela flinched, and for a heartbeat the world narrowed to the pressure at her chest. Omfry smiled, small and cruel. “I usually take hearts,” he said, “but seeing you do something… impossible back there? That earns you a little reward. You can Keep your hearts.”

  A fist of stone erupted from the ground and clamped around Omfry’s ankle. It yanked him downward with animal ferocity. The earth convulsed; a gigantic arm — knotted, veined, the size of a fallen tower — burst from the soil and hauled Omfry up and slammed him back down. He was hammered into the ground again and again.

  “How dare you touch my sister!” a voice roared.

  A spear, carved from diamond and falling like judgement from the sky, smashed into Omfry. It drove itself and Omfry into the ground, burying a hundred metres of its shaft into stone. Prince Juvian landed beside Isabela, breathless, fury burning in his eyes. He scooped a small bottle from his pocket — an elixir — and tipped it between Isabela’s lips.

  “Good thing I always keep one of Eryndor’s elixirs with me,” he said, voice sharp.

  A heavy figure drifted down from the smoke-filled air: King Juval, arms folded, his face like a stormcloud. Queen Zeliona followed close, cradling the infant Zelion. Mercy hovered beside her, face pale with the strain of the night.

  Omfry ripped himself free and leaped out of the ground, brushing dust from his vest as though nothing untoward had occurred. “What an honour,” he said with a bow that was all mockery. “The whole royal family to greet me. How flattering. That girl should’ve told you — I’m here for that little guy. I won’t leave without him. We can fight, but tell me — how much of your city are you prepared to lose? How many more must die? Give me the child and it'll all be over.”

  Juval’s voice boomed, unshakable. “You will not have our child.”

  Omfry tapped his boot on the ground, casual as a man testing his shoe. “At least I asked nicely.” He spread his hands. “Before we begin, you should know how I do things. In my fights there are always two useless things to choose between: heads or hearts. Which do you pick?”

  He smiled, canines flashing.

  “Juvian, Isabela—leave with your mother,” Juval ordered, quieter now, practical as a commander. “Eryndor is engaged; we can’t get to Pungence. Go. Bring Ziraiah.”

  They did not hesitate. Juvian scooped Isabela up, and the three slipped away through the rubble.

  ---

  Elsewhere, the battle had reached another boiling point. Katos’s silhouette lengthened and warped, bones and sinew contorting until he hurled off his human guise. Fur flared, fangs bared, and in a metallic snarl he took the wolf form — a full lycan, great and terrible.

  Valerius watched, expression unreadable. He fortified the entire city then spoke one word.

  “Lorde.”

  The air exploded with a sound like a gunshot as a portal split open behind him. From it stepped Lorde — broad-shouldered, He took in the lycan before him and chuckled.

  “Ooo — a lycan this time,” Lorde said, amusement rippling through his voice.

  “Lycan?” Valerius prompted.

  Lorde barked a harsh laugh. “That’s what they’re called. A type of demi-beast.”

  Valerius’s mouth quirked. “Demi-beasts.”

  Lorde leaned forward, the gesture casual and dangerous. “You really don’t know shit, do you?”

  Katos snarled, fur bristling as his form shuddered with power. “No magic, huh? But you can summon. You have a Seed.”

  Valerius’ gaze didn’t waver. “Take care of him. Kill him if you have to.”

  Lorde stepped forward, shoulders loose, grin crooked. He tapped his fist into his open palm with a slow, mocking rhythm. “You owe me a sword,” he said, voice flat. “That was my favourite one, you know.”

  Katos exploded into motion — a blur of fangs and claws launching straight for Valerius.

  Before he reached him, Lorde moved like a battering ram. He planted his feet, wound his shoulder, and threw a single, devastating punch.

  “Please,” Lorde said, half amusement, half warning — and the battle surged on.

  The impact detonated through the air — a concussive boom that rolled across the ruins. Katos’ head snapped sideways; his body was flung end over end like a ragdoll. He crashed into shattered pillars and tumbled among the wreckage, a torn heap of fur and fury.

  Lorde dusted his knuckles as if brushing crumbs from a sleeve, then gave Valerius a quick, dry nod.

  Katos crashed through towers and stone until his body slammed against the city barrier. The colossal dome shimmered violently, its once-brilliant glow flickering to an ominous red.

  Deep within Heful’s command chamber, alarms blared. Rows of monitors flashed warnings as engineers scrambled across glowing consoles.

  “Sir, the barrier is losing power!” one man shouted, panic breaking through his voice.

  Another spun toward him, incredulous. “Losing power? Impossible! The barrier doesn’t run out—its core is eternal!”

  A third officer’s voice trembled as he read the data feed. “Sir… the Hydron Pulse… it’s gone. The core that powers the barrier—it’s disappeared.”

  The commander’s face drained of color. “Disappeared? Something like that doesn’t just vanish. Unless…” His fists clenched as realization struck. “We’re under attack. They didn’t come for the city—they came for the Pulse.”

  This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

  ---

  On the battlefield, Katos staggered up from the ground, blood dripping from his nose and mouth. He spat a broken tooth onto the cracked stone, growling through the pain.

  “I see now… that’s why they sent Dreados and me.”

  BOOM.

  Lorde’s fist buried into his gut before he could draw another breath. The force hurled him back into the barrier once more, the dome shuddering, red veins spreading across its surface.

  Katos coughed blood, gripping Lorde’s arm as he snarled, “You… you’re a spirit. You shouldn’t even be able to speak. How are you this strong?”

  Lorde’s brows furrowed. His grin turned sharp, dangerous.

  “Excuse me? Are you looking down on me, who do you think you are?”

  His fist cocked back again.

  “Don’t piss me off.”

  BOOOOM.

  The punch detonated through Katos’ midsection, the fortified streets collapsing into a five-kilometer crater beneath them. Dust and fire spiraled into the sky.

  ---

  Valerius bolted, moving at sonic speeds.

  “Heloid.”

  His body convulsed. His black and green hair writhed and split into long, coiling tendrils. His eyes turned abyssal, bottomless black. His skin flushed into a pale violet sheen, arms elongating unnaturally, flexible and fluid like an octopus.

  He skidded across the streets, cocked his right hand back—and punched.

  The sleeve of his coat shredded apart. His arm shot forward, elongating at mach 100, weaving through Heful’s avenues like a living serpent. At every sharp turn, his arms bent ninety degrees, impossibly precise. His fingers extended for one purpose, to touch.

  Each time his fingertips brushed a person—fwum!—a radiant bubble snapped into existence, encasing them in a near-indestructible sphere of protection.

  Heloid’s voice echoed in his mind. “One by one, boy. Don’t falter. My ability responds to determination. As long as you're determined to protect those people...those bubbles will not burst.”

  Heful housed over three hundred million souls. And Valerius—alone—was attempting to shield every last one.

  ---

  In the Spirit Realm, Heloid reclined upon a throne of coral and obsidian. His tentacle-like hair swayed lazily, four black eyes glinting with amusement. Sixteen feet tall, his purple skin glowed faintly under the abyssal light.

  “At last,” he rumbled, his voice a vibration through sea and sky. “Over a year since I gave you permission to use my ability… and now you use it. If you master it fully…” His lip curled into a faint smile. “…perhaps, you will earn my respect.”

  ---

  Back in Heful, Valerius cocked his left arm and punched forward, his arm elongated, reaching more people. He strained, sweat pouring down his face as his arms stretched farther, farther, tearing at the seams. The tendrils split, blood trickling down his violet skin.

  “No… there are still more… I have to…”

  His roar shook the air. “Fortis!”

  In a flash, his elongated limbs hardened, glowing green with reinforced strength. His groans turned guttural as his arms split through rooftops, across bridges, down alleys—reaching for every last citizen.

  Fwoom, fwoom, fwoom!

  Protective spheres erupted one after another, millions of people encased in shimmering bubbles of safety. His hands tore through walls, broke ceilings, pierced earth itself—every fingertip searching, touching, protecting.

  I won’t let this city fall! Valerius thought, his voice raw with conviction. Pungence is trapped right now… I'm the only one who can fortify this place. I'll keep the city intact! I'll protect everyone!

  And as his arms reached their impossible limit—Heful itself glowed with a constellation of protective spheres, a sea of lights floating across the ruined city.

  ---

  Valerius remembered the day clearly—

  the field was quiet, the wind heavy with dust and heat.

  Pungence stood before him, massive and unmoving, his back turned. For a moment, neither spoke. Only the soft hum of distant cicadas filled the silence. Then Pungence’s deep voice broke through it—calm, but edged with challenge.

  “What drives you, Valerius?”

  He didn’t turn yet. The words seemed to test the air itself.

  “What is it you fight for? What sits in your heart?”

  The weight of the question lingered, pressing against Valerius’s chest harder than any battle ever had.

  Then Pungence turned, slowly, his eyes sharp and searching.

  “Whether or not I take you as my student,” he said, voice low and resolute,

  “depends on your answer.”

  Pungence stood tall, his gaze fixed somewhere far beyond the horizon. His voice carried the weight of conviction, steady and deep.

  “I fight for the people,” he said. “The strong, the weak, the helpless, the rich, the poor— all are equally important to me. I carry their hopes on my back. I am the pillar they can lean on, one that never crumbles. I want them all to look into the sky and feel safe, knowing that I am here. They have complete faith in me, because I have never once failed them. Their hope, their peace, their freedom… that is what I fight for.”

  Valerius’s eyes hardened with quiet resolve. “I’m willing to fight for my family,” he said.

  Pungence turned toward him, studying his face. “Your brother and sister—do you love them?”

  “Of course,” Valerius answered. “More than anything.”

  “Love is good,” Pungence said softly, turning back to the sky, “but too much love can be a dangerous thing.” He paused, his expression unreadable. “A man who loves his family too much would let the world burn for them.” He looked back at Valerius, his eyes sharp and searching. “Tell me, Valerius… are you that kind of man?”

  To Be Continued...