Suddenly, Silver's silver eyes flicked to the side as he caught sight of a massive battle axe cleaving through the air toward him, its edge aimed squarely at his head.
A lesser man would've flinched, but Silver didn't even blink.
Just as the axe closed the final inches, a swirling tempest erupted around him, forming a miniature hurricane with Silver at its unmoving centre. Wind howled violently, catching the axe mid-flight. It spun rapidly, pulled into the vortex, before being hurled back in the direction it had come – at twice the speed.
August, already injured and barely upright, had just enough awareness to hurl himself aside, gritting his teeth as the axe buried itself in the ground where he'd stood moments before.
"Phew! That was close. I thought you were really going to let him kill me," Silver said, still wearing his trademark cheerful smile – a smile that clashed unsettlingly with the reality of what had just happened.
"I could never allow anything to happen to you, Young Master Silver," came a smooth, sarcastic voice from above.
All eyes turned skyward – August, Azurian, and Danso alike.
Floating thirty metres above them, a man hovered with arms crossed and wings outstretched – ten metres wide and forged entirely of shimmering silver wind-like energy. His hair was slicked back, blonde and immaculately styled. Piercing emerald green eyes glared down from a clean-shaven face etched with confidence and mockery in equal measure.
His robes gleamed white in the moonlight, the back adorned with the image of a grinning black devil. His very presence radiated power and elegance.
"Wind Element Mage," August muttered, his voice low. Somehow, after everything that had happened today, the sheer absurdity of it barely fazed him.
"If I didn't know any better, I'd say that sounded a lot like sarcasm," Silver said, turning his attention to the man in the sky with his ever-pleasant smile. "But that can't be. After all, you know full well that if I truly felt threatened, I'd have no choice but to take control of your mind to ensure my safety. Isn't that right, Mr Vladimir Varishkov?"
That smile.
To others, it was charming. Disarming even.
But to Vladimir – it was a noose.
His back stiffened involuntarily. That sickly-sweet smile of Silver's made the hairs on his neck rise. For a few seconds, he simply stared at the silver-haired boy in silence.
Then, finally, he forced his own smile onto his face.
"Don't be silly, Mr Silver," he said, his voice far more careful now, the sarcasm drained clean. "Your safety is my top priority."
"That's good to know," Silver replied lightly. Then, brushing dust from his clothes, he stood. "Well, I've accomplished everything I came here to do. I suppose it's time for us to go."
Vladimir raised a brow and gestured toward the three young Beast-Warriors. "What about them? Would you like me to get rid of them before we leave?"
August, Azurian, and Danso all tensed at once.
They were injured, depleted, and acutely aware that neither Silver nor Vladimir would struggle to finish them off if they wished to – even if they had been at full strength, let alone now.
But Silver simply turned to them and smiled once again.
"That won't be necessary," he said softly. "I promised my new friend that no one else would die today."
A beat of silence, then-
"Now why would you go and make a promise you can't keep?"
The voice was smooth, relaxed – but laced with a quiet, dangerous amusement.
"Who's there?!" Vladimir's head snapped around. "Show yourself!"
Azurian and Danso, still shaken, scanned the shadows with weapons raised, trying to place the source. Friend or foe? The tone was too casual to be threatening, but the pressure that followed was undeniable.
Only August sighed in sudden relief, his shoulders lowering slightly despite his wound.
He knew that voice.
"Stop shouting already, would you?" the voice continued lazily. "I'm right here."
All eyes followed the sound.
Perched on the thick branch of a towering tree lazily overlooking the bloodstained battlefield was a devilishly handsome middle-aged man.
Long, jet-black hair tumbled down in messy waves, obscuring most of his face save for one thing – the gleaming crimson irises that shone through like embers in the dark.
His presence was unbothered, almost sleepy, and yet something about him radiated danger wrapped in charm.
He lounged casually on the branch as if observing a garden rather than a war zone, one leg dangling off the edge.
"Aziz Amin?!" Vladimir exclaimed, voice trembling with astonishment. "The Invincible Mortal of the Southern Pass?!"
"Hmm? You know me?" Aziz replied lazily, glancing up from his perch on the tree branch to look at the hovering man above him.
"Hahaha! It's you! It's really you! HAHAHA!" Vladimir threw back his head with a wild laugh. "Fate is truly a wonderful thing!"
"Do I know you?" Aziz asked with mild curiosity, though his tone made it clear he didn't particularly care one way or the other.
"You really don't recognise me?!" Vladimir growled, his eyes narrowing as a thick, suffocating killing intent leaked from his body.
Aziz squinted slightly, pretending to think. "Hmmmm… Nope, sorry.
Don't take it personally, though – I've killed way too many of Devil's Paradise's little thug-for-hire lackeys to remember all of your names."
He yawned. Casually. Still cleaning his ear.
That overwhelming nonchalance – the sheer disrespect – lit Vladimir's rage like dry tinder. His eyes burned crimson as he extended a finger toward the still-unfazed Aziz.
"[Wind Beam!]"
A piercing silver beam exploded from his fingertip, slicing through the air at supersonic speed. The sound cracked the air like thunder as it tore through the sky toward Aziz, the spell potent enough to reduce almost anything it touched into dust.
*BOOM!*
The beam struck its mark, detonating on impact. An eruption of wind blades screamed outward in a chaotic storm, shredding the ground, the nearby trees – and utterly obliterating Aziz's perch in a howling tempest of destruction.
August raised his arm to shield his face, teeth gritted against the storm of debris and force. Even through all he had seen in his life, that spell – raw, refined, and merciless – was one of the strongest he'd ever witnessed.
'There was no way Aziz took that head-on, right?'
"Oii, brat! Wake up already, would you?"
August blinked, stunned.
He turned toward the voice – familiar, sharp, and endlessly annoying.
And there was Aziz. Standing perfectly fine over Jabari's unconscious form, not a scratch on him. Leisurely. Casual. As if he hadn't just dodged a spell that could level a small village.
"Old man?" Jabari said groggily as his eyes opened. "You're okay?!"
But then he saw it – that insufferable, smug grin plastered across Aziz's face. Instantly, he knew. Danger!
"Oww – what the fuck is wrong with you, you shitty old fart?!" Jabari screamed as Aziz's foot slammed into his stomach, sending him flying through the air.
He crashed to the ground with a heavy thud, rolling to a stop at August's feet. Groaning.
August stared, expression unreadable.
"Shut up and watch," Aziz's voice rang out, loud and clear. "This old man's gonna show you the true power of a Weapon-Wielder!"
With that, he placed his hand on the hilt of the sabre hanging at his side.
"Oii, Mr Killer," Aziz called, turning his smirk to Vladimir. "I'm gonna show off a little for my disciple and his friends, so do me a favour and come at me with everything you've got!"
The killing intent that Vladimir had been barely restraining exploded outward. It slammed into the three young Beast-Warriors like a tidal wave of death, a presence so overwhelming it made their knees tremble, and their lungs tighten.
Even Jabari, still reeling from the kick, sucked in a breath. That pressure wasn't something someone could simply resist – it bore down on the soul itself.
"Do you think this is some kind of joke?" Vladimir hissed, voice calm, yet somehow thunderous – carried on the wind to every ear like a whisper in the dark.
Aziz's response came with no sarcasm, no smirk – only sincerity. "No. I know this is no joke. I take my disciple's training very seriously."
Vladimir's eyes glinted dangerously.
"You know," he began, his tone dropping, "I only recently earned the rank of Black-Grade Mercenary in Devil's Paradise. When I saw your name on the Black-Grade bounty board, I thought fate was calling – telling me it was time to finally take revenge for what happened all those years ago."
He raised a hand.
"I was ordered not to go after you yet. So instead, I took a contract here in the Forbidden Continent – as a bodyguard – hoping to prove I was worthy of claiming your head."
As he spoke, the air above began to shimmer.
Countless silver blades of wind formed in the sky. Thin as a cicada's wing. Invisible from certain angles. Lethal from every one.
They flickered in and out of sight, suspended above like the judgment of the gods.
And as the tension reached its peak…
The real fight was about to begin.
"Whoever ordered you not to come after me sounds smart," Aziz said casually, his voice light as if he hadn't noticed – or simply didn't care about – the hundreds of wind blades hanging in the sky like glittering, silver stars.
Vladimir ignored him, his emerald eyes glinting. "Who would've guessed I'd run into you here, in this desolate little corner of the world? Fate truly works in mysterious and wonderful ways, don't you think?!"
"If you say so," Aziz replied with a lazy shrug.
"Your arrogance truly knows no bounds," Vladimir spat, a sneer curling across his face. "But it ends today. I'll put an end to the myth of Aziz, the Invincible Mortal!"
With a single flick of his hand, the countless wind blades hovering above descended all at once like a divine judgment. They rained down not just on Aziz but over every conceivable direction – ensuring no retreat, no escape.
But Aziz? Still calm. Still grinning.
And, apparently, in the mood for a lesson.
"Listen up, kiddos," he said, just as the storm of blades screamed toward him. "There are three widely known boundaries for Weapon-Wielders."
He slowly drew his sabre it erupted in that same brilliant white aura Jabari had called forth earlier.
"The first boundary grants you access to your [Weapon Force] – this glowing energy you see – and lets you coat your weapon in it, drastically enhancing your strikes."
A wind blade neared.
Aziz casually slashed upward.
*Ssshhhkk!*
The wind blade split clean in half and dispersed harmlessly into the air.
His movements were steady – not too fast, not too slow. Deliberate. Clear.
Despite the chaotic storm descending around him, every single wind blade that reached him was caught by his sabre – not one missed. It was as if they were drawn to it, like moths to flame, like metal to a magnet.
"His swordsmanship…" Azurian breathed in awe. "It's beautiful."
"So this is Jabari's Master…" Danso murmured, equally spellbound.
Up above, Vladimir's smirk faltered.
He watched, frowning, as Aziz dismantled his grand spell like it was child's play.
"Spirit of the skies, please heed the call of your humble servant…" he began, voice rising in pitch as the incantation took form.
Aziz clearly heard the chant. He even glanced up briefly, noting the storm swirling around Vladimir as a massive hurricane began to take shape.
But he still didn't stop teaching.
"This is the boundary you've just reached, brat," he said, glancing over his shoulder at Jabari. "In the world of Weapon-Wielders, you'd now be called a Glaivesman. For me, I'm a Sabreman. When August hits this stage, he'll be an Axeman, and so on. Titles granted by comprehension."
"…and pierce all that stands in your path – [Hurricane Spear!]" Vladimir bellowed.
The vast cyclone condensed into a single, concentrated spear – a condensed weapon of pure silver wind energy, spinning so rapidly that the space around it twisted and shimmered.
The pressure in the air dropped.
Even from a distance, Jabari and the others felt the weight of it. The [Hurricane Spear] was a monstrosity – like a condensed storm given form, and it tore through the sky toward Aziz with a screech that fractured the sound barrier.
"Is he gonna be alright?" Danso asked, voicing what everyone else was thinking.
Aziz remained composed.
"Weapon-Wielders grow stronger by deepening their comprehension of their weapon," he continued, utterly unbothered by the incoming death. "Once your weapon-manship hits the second boundary, you're able to use your [Weapon Force] to coat not only your weapon but your entire body, enhancing it to-"
Before he could finish his explanation, Aziz's voice was drowned out by the sound of the [Hurricane Spear] breaking the sound barrier as it hurtled towards him, just as he finished coating his entire body skin-tight layer of [Battle Force].
*BOOOOOOM!*
A blinding explosion tore through the clearing, a towering shockwave ripping across the battlefield. Trees bent, the earth cracked, and all four young warriors were hurled back like leaves in a storm.
"MASTER!!" Jabari roared, heart hammering, eyes wide with terror.
Dread twisted in his gut like a blade. He had lost too many people. He couldn't bear to lose Aziz too – not now. Not ever.
Despite the pain from his own wounds, he forced himself to his feet, each step a battle against his failing strength. He stumbled through the smoke, toward the heart of the blast.
Toward the crater.
Toward the one person who could never fall.
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