Chapter 228: Destroy The Cursed (45)
The moment of reflection was brief. Bron's expression hardened as his eyes flicked toward the distant edges of the battlefield, where screams and clashing steel still echoed.
"We can't relax just yet," he warned, his deep voice cutting through the fleeting silence. "Let's regroup with the support teams. Recover what we can. This fight isn't over."
Shin nodded, his bow lowering as the adrenaline began to fade. Side by side, the two made their way across the ravaged ground, their weary steps still purposeful.
Meanwhile, on another stretch of the battlefield, chaos still reigned. Shae and Silver Wing were locked in combat with yet another Dreadknight.
This one was just as relentless, but unlike Bron and Shin's foe, it had been dragged into a fight against two of the most seasoned warriors of the Tryst Guild.
The battle between them was like a violent dance. Shae moved with blinding speed, her long blue sword cutting arcs of shimmering azure through the air.
Each strike was aimed with surgical precision, tearing through gaps in the Dreadknight's armor and drawing forth gouts of corrupted essence.
Her agility was unmatched; she weaved in and out of the monster's swipes with such fluidity that she seemed less like a fighter and more like a storm.
Silver Wing fought in stark contrast to her—slower, heavier, but no less devastating. His silver-feathered wings beat with thunderous force, propelling him across the battlefield.
One moment he was clashing in close quarters with his blade, the next he launched himself into the air to rain down punishing blows from above.
His wings weren't just for flight; with each shift, they morphed into weapons—blades, spears, daggers—all empowered by the raw energy flowing through his veins.
Each strike of his transformed wings carried the weight of an A-Rank weapon, and his mastery with them was absolute.
But his true edge wasn't his wings. It was his swordsmanship. Few across the entire world could rival his level of mastery. Every swing, every counter, every feint—Silver Wing executed them with such precision that the Dreadknight found itself constantly pushed onto the defensive, unable to gain an inch of momentum.
Together, Shae and Silver Wing formed a perfect rhythm. Her speed struck where his strength created openings, her agility compensated for his heavier movements. They were a seamless duo, a blade and shield dancing in harmony.
The Dreadknight, though powerful, began to falter under their relentless assault. Its once-imposing armor was dented and fractured, dark cracks spreading across its chest and limbs.
Each of its movements grew slower, more labored. It was fighting on instinct alone, driven purely by the hunger for blood.
Then, the end came swiftly.
Shae's blade glowed with an ethereal azure light as she channeled the last of her strength into one decisive strike.
Her sword flashed across the battlefield, too fast for mortal eyes to follow. A streak of blue carved cleanly through the Dreadknight's torso, and for a heartbeat, silence followed.
Then the monster's body split.
A jagged line of energy burst across its frame, severing it from shoulder to hip. With a final roar that dissolved into a gurgle, the Dreadknight collapsed to the ground, its body falling in two grotesque halves.
The corrupted life-force within it flickered and died, leaving only the broken husk of a creature that had once been terror incarnate.
Shae stumbled forward, her hands braced on the hilt of her sword. Her chest rose and fell in ragged breaths, her face pale but resolute.
She had fought many battles, slain countless beasts, but never before had she faced an opponent with such resilience. For a terrifying moment, she had doubted whether the thing could even be killed.
Silver Wing's voice cut through the chaos, reaching Shae's ears even amidst the roar of collapsing monsters.
> "If you can still move, then help clear the remaining beasts!"
His tone carried no hesitation. Even battered and drained, Silver Wing dashed back into the fray, wings flaring wide as he struck down a group of snarling fiends.
Shae gritted her teeth. The battle had already drained most of her strength, but the sword in her hands still pulsed with faint azure light, feeding her just enough energy to keep going.
She didn't linger—every second wasted meant more lives lost. Tightening her grip, she forced her weary body forward, throwing herself back into the storm of claws, steel, and blood.
Elsewhere on the battlefield, another clash reached its end.
A massive Dreadknight staggered, its crimson eye-flames flickering like dying embers. Its armor steamed, charred black as though the beast had been roasted from within.
For one last moment it tried to rise, but its strength betrayed it. The glow vanished from its eyes, and the hulking figure collapsed with a thunderous crash.
Standing behind its fallen corpse was Elexa.
Sparks of blue lightning still danced across her frame, fading slowly until her eyes—once blazing with violent electricity—returned to their normal sharp clarity.
She exhaled deeply, her chest rising and falling in exhaustion, before scoffing under her breath.
"Tch… stubborn thing. Didn't think I'd actually have to go all-out just to kill it."
Though her voice carried a note of disdain, Elexa knew the truth. That Dreadknight had pushed her far harder than expected.
And she was no ordinary fighter—Elexa was a name feared across nations, a warrior many considered to stand just a step away from being recognized as a Class S hero. Once upon a time, she was hailed as a genius among geniuses, a prodigy said to appear only once in a thousand generations.
She might have believed those words… if not for the monsters she had encountered in recent days.
Her mind wandered briefly.
From the Tournament of Power to this very battlefield, she had crossed paths with too many freaks—warriors who shattered the definition of talent. Most of them came from the same place: the Tryst Guild.
She remembered their faces clearly.
Ronan—the brutal monster who had gone toe-to-toe with Argon, a battle still burned into Elexa's memory.
He wasn't just skilled; his sheer savagery and overwhelming physical strength made him someone Elexa wasn't sure she could ever best in a straight fight.
Then there was Jay, the quiet martial artist who had left an impression so deep it felt carved into her bones. She had only seen him briefly during the Tournament, but the memory lingered.
To defeat one of the A6 with nothing but raw martial arts… it was nothing short of insane. Impossible. Yet Jay had done it.
And still, there was someone greater.
Someone who stood above them all.
If Elexa was a "once-in-a-thousand-generation" genius, then this man was something else entirely—a freak among freaks, a talent so rare that history itself might only see one like him in a million years.
The image surfaced in her mind, vivid as if he were standing right before her:
A man with half-white, half-black hair, his very presence exuding both calm authority and terrifying pressure.
The one leading this very battle.
The leader of the Tryst Guild himself.
Han Trystan.
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TO BE CONTINUED…...
AUTHOR'S NOTE
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– Ultra