Kael stands at the edge of ruin, his eyes locked on the devastation left behind by Commander Arvell and the Lava Giant.
The earth still burns where they clashed—molten veins pulse faintly beneath fractured, obsidian-like stone. A faint heat radiates up, stinging his exposed skin.
He doesn't sense it.
But he is being watched.
Far away, upon a jagged ridge of blackened, razor-sharp rock, two figures stand shrouded in thick, concealing cloaks. The same pair who once observed the commander's battle now fix their penetrating gaze upon Kael.
They feel him long before he arrives—the raw ripple of his mana, the slight, cold distortion in the air. From the moment Kael begins running toward this cursed place, they follow—unseen, unheard—drawn by an instinct they cannot name.
At first, it is only curiosity.
A mere boy strolling into a graveyard of titans.
But when they watch him fight, curiosity snaps and turns into awe... then a sudden, consuming hunger.
He hadn't just fought those monsters.
He erased them.
Creatures leagues stronger than him—torn apart in moments.
The darkness moves at his silent command: alive, ravenous, obedient.
It devours the beasts like a starving, ancient god swallowing a rush of dimming light.
The world itself seems to flinch around his presence.
The man in the cloak cracks a smile. It is a quiet, crooked thing that grows wider with every inhalation—until it breaks into a sudden, wild laughter.
Low at first. Then rising, immediate, and sharp.
A sudden storm tearing through the silence.
"Hahahahahahahaha!"
His laughter crashes over the burning plains, sharp and utterly unhinged. The humid air trembles, rippling like disturbed, hot water.
The woman beside him tenses. Her hand drifts instinctively toward the hidden weapon beneath her cloak.
"Stop," she says softly, a warning threading through the single word. "You'll draw attention."
But he doesn't stop. His laughter only deepens—feverish, manic, and suddenly triumphant.
Kael doesn't react.
He cannot.
He doesn't sense their eyes on him.
Because the two who watch him do not belong to this world.
They exist between it—hidden, silent, waiting.
The man finally forces the laughter to a halt, though his grin remains—stretched, unnatural, and inhuman.
"He is the one," he whispers, voice thick and reverent. "He is the one we've been waiting for. The messiah who will bring us salvation... hehehe."
The woman glances at him, wary and uncertain. "Are you certain? Look at him—he is just a boy. He doesn't look any stronger than the rest."
"Who says he needs to be strong?" The man's eyes gleam like fractured glass reflecting firelight. "He only needs to be different."
He gestures toward Kael, who still stands amid the scorched ruins, a lone, silent sentinel before the chaos.
"At a place where even the mighty hesitate to tread, he runs toward it. Look at how he slaughtered those beasts—creatures above his natural rank. Tell me, does that look ordinary to you?"
The woman hesitates. A shadow of doubt crosses her features. "It doesn't mean he is the one. We have been mistaken before."
The man chuckles again, quieter this time, but far colder.
"Didn't you see it? The chilling way he commanded the darkness. There hasn't been a single darkness wielder for a thousand years. And now, precisely when the prophecy returns, he appears."
He turns to her fully, expression alight with something ecstatic and manic.
"When the darkness devours, he grows. With every kill, every struggle—he evolves."
His voice trembles with pure, uncontained delight. "Imagine someone who becomes stronger each time he fights. How far could such a being rise...?"
A cold shiver runs through the woman. She looks again at Kael—at the lone figure standing before the ruins, perfectly framed by fire and consuming shadow.
Her voice is barely a whisper. "Then… what do we do? Do we kidnap him and force him to come with us?"
"No."
The man's tone hardens—final, like iron striking stone.
"We wait. We watch. His path brings him to us soon enough."
The woman doesn't answer. She knows that tone—that chilling certainty that leaves no room for reason or plea.
And in her heart, she can only pray.
She prays that the boy below survives whatever this man has planned for him.
The world before me looks like hell itself.
The ground is torn open like a massive, burning spider's web, glowing veins of fire crawling through every fracture.
Pits of molten rock pulse with heat, spilling lava that hisses as it meets the cold, stale air.
And in the center of it all yawns a massive, blackened crater—the very heart of the battlefield.
Everywhere I look, there is only ruin. Destruction. Death.
"This…" I whisper, my voice instantly lost in the howling wind. "…this is beyond anything I've ever seen."
A bitter, dry chuckle escapes my throat.
"So this… this is the Commander's true power."
For a moment, I just stand there, transfixed, staring into the fiery abyss.
Flashes of memory blur together—countless hours of brutal training under Commander Arvell, every agonizing bruise, every desperate parry, every moment I thought I'd barely survived.
All that time, I believed I'd seen his strength.
But now… I realize I hadn't even grasped a fraction of it.
He wasn't fighting me.
He was teaching me.
"He was just… playing with me," I mutter, half in disbelief, half in awe. "All this time…"
The truth hits harder than any blade or blow.
Commander Arvell's real power isn't something I could have imagined—not even close.
If he wanted to, he could have ended me with a flick of his wrist.
My hands clench into fists. The air burns against my skin, heavy with mana so dense it feels alive.
Even now, I feel small—an insect standing before a god.
The lingering mana in the air could crush me if I let my focus slip for even a second.
It hums, deep and violent, pressing against my chest like an unseen storm.
"And that monster…" My eyes drift toward the horizon, where faint, colossal shockwaves still ripple through the haze. "It can fight him evenly. It is… another S-rank."
A glacial chill crawls down my spine. Just standing here feels like standing on the edge of the world.
If even one stray shockwave hits me, I'd be gone—erased without a trace.
Common sense screams at me to turn and run.
But something deeper anchors my feet.
A pull. A terrible, magnetic hunger.
The same instinct that has carried me this far.
I want to see it.
To understand what true strength really is.
"Just one look," I breathe, tightening my grip on my sword. "I need to see it with my own eyes."
And so, I move—step by step, heavier than the last—toward the epicenter of devastation.
Toward the place where Commander Arvell and the Lava Giant still clash in the distance.
Each step feels like the world itself is trying to hold me back.
But I don't stop.
Because some truths,
you can't look away from.
---
Ash and embers swirl around me as I walk through the burning wasteland.
Each step sinks into scorched earth, molten cracks lighting the path beneath my feet like wicked orange scars.
The heat licks at my skin.
The air is thick with smoke and the metallic tang of iron.
The world groans—fire hisses, stones crack, wind howls through the fractured ground—as if the land itself remembers the agony of battle.
Yet I keep moving.
My shadow stretches long across the ruin, swallowed and reborn by the flickering glow of the flames.
The closer I get, the stronger it becomes.
That crushing presence.
That terrifying power.
A sharp, electric tingling crawls up my spine until every hair on my body stands on end.
Then it hits me.
A sudden, colossal shockwave.
The ground splits open with a deafening roar, and I stagger, my boots scraping molten rock. Darkness instinctively ripples out around me, forming a fleeting veil that absorbs the burning wind.
Another wave comes—stronger, heavier—forcing me to brace as the air convulses with raw energy.
And still… I walk forward.
Through searing heat and utter ruin.
Through the crushing pressure of two titans clashing beyond the smoke—
my darkness hums with me, steady and alive.
After nearly ten excruciating minutes of trudging through the scorched land, I finally see them—Commander Arvell and the Lava Giant, still locked in brutal combat.
The sight steals my breath.
The Commander's armor is shattered, dented, and scorched black. Blood seeps from a deep wound along his side. His movements are slower now, heavy with fatigue—every breath a struggle.
But the Lava Giant… it's changed.
It's bigger than before. Far larger than when it fought Gareth. Its molten skin has darkened to a near obsidian hue, its eyes burn brighter—pools of molten gold leaking fire with every shift.
Lava pulses through its body like living veins, humming with unbearable heat and destructive rage.
And with each swing, the earth quakes.
My gut tightens. It's stronger. Much stronger.
The Commander parries another strike, but the shockwave rips across the plain, slamming into me even from this distance. I dig my heels in, shielding myself with darkness just to stay upright.
"This isn't good…" I mutter under my breath, the heat drying my tongue. "He is… losing."
I can see it clearly now—Arvell's aura flickers, his footing uncertain, his defenses faltering under the Giant's relentless assault. Each blow pushes him farther back, deeper into the forest.
And I can do nothing but watch.
My thoughts race, desperate, searching for something—anything I can do.
But the truth crushes me harder than the heat.
I am powerless.
Helpless.
The Lava Giant slams its immense foot down, the ground fracturing like glass. It lunges—a blur of molten fury. Its claws, wreathed in roaring flame, cut through the air toward the Commander, carving arcs of fire into the sky.
But Arvell doesn't dodge.
He meets every strike head-on, sword raised, aura flaring with cold defiance.
Still—with every hit, he's forced back, step by step, deeper into the burning forest.
I narrow my eyes, focus sharpening.
At first, it seems like the Commander is simply being overwhelmed…
But then I notice it—the subtle pattern. The precise direction.
Every block, every retreat, every step Arvell takes is deliberate.
He's leading the Lava Giant somewhere.
"I don't know what you're planning, Commander…" I mutter, fists trembling. "But whatever it is… it better work."