Night pressed down like a weight, and the warehouse around me was a skeleton of shadows and splintered wood. Every footstep echoed, every breath felt amplified. My opponent moved like a shadow of death, spear in hand, eyes cold and calculating beneath the mask.
The world narrowed to a single point—the tip of his weapon. Every strike carried enough force to crush bone; every step was measured, precise. I'd faced killers before, but this one wasn't just after my life. He was hunting my will, testing the limits of my resolve.
The first clash rang like a bell, steel against steel. Sparks flared, scorching the air, and mana hissed as it absorbed the impact. The runes etched into his spear pulsed faintly, drinking what little energy I had left. My Soul Resonance strained under the constant drain, my core burning with the effort of maintaining control.
He pushed me back, relentless. I ducked under a sweep that split a support beam in half, rolled over shattered crates, and barely raised my blade in time to meet the follow-up strike. The air between us compressed with raw energy, a tangible pressure that threatened to crush the very walls.
"Impossible," he said, voice steady, almost calm. "You think potential equals mastery."
I spat blood on the floorboards, the metallic taste sharp in my mouth. "Then I'll close that gap."
He lunged again, a blur of steel and deadly intent. I didn't parry. Instead, I stepped forward, into the range where his spear should have been untouchable. His eyes flickered—just the slightest sign of surprise—and I swung my blade in a tight, searing arc.
The impact shattered the runes on his chestplate. Light bled through the cracks like molten veins. But even as the armor split, he didn't falter. Instead, a spike of mana erupted from him, blasting me back through a wall. Pain exploded through my side, lungs burning with each ragged breath.
Dust and splinters filled the air. I staggered to my feet, every muscle screaming. And then I felt it—the system's familiar pulse, sharper, urgent:
[ Soul Resonance – Overload Available ]
It wasn't just a notification. It was a lifeline. My body ached, my blade felt impossibly heavy, but that signal was a promise: the power I needed was there if I could take it.
I seized it. Mana surged violently, tearing through me in waves. My sword's edge flared from gold to pure white, arcs of lightning dancing across the shattered floor. Pain lanced through every nerve, but with it came clarity, speed, and raw, unfiltered power.
He lunged again, faster than before. The world slowed around me. I saw every twitch of his stance, every subtle shift in weight. I moved past his thrust, my sword striking in a downward diagonal arc. The impact ripped through what remained of his armor, the runes exploding in sparks and molten shards.
For the first time, I saw him stagger, the confidence in his posture cracking. His desperate guard came too late, and my blade snapped the haft of his spear in two. The pieces clattered across the floor, the sound hollow and final.
I pressed forward, sword at his throat. Every breath I drew burned my lungs, every muscle trembled under the Overload. "Message for Dareth," I rasped, my voice raw with effort. "Next time, send someone stronger."
He didn't respond. His jaw clenched, but he retreated through the hole in the wall, vanishing into the streets beyond. The city outside was waking, oblivious to the storm that had passed through this broken warehouse.
I sagged to my knees, the Overload bleeding out of me in a dizzying rush. My vision blurred, and Ryn's hands caught me before I hit the ground.
"You look like hell," she said, concern threading her voice.
I managed a weak grin. "You should see the other guy."
She glanced at the wreckage. "Kael… this wasn't just an assassin. This was a test."
I nodded slowly. My arms burned, my chest heaved, but I understood the truth beneath her words. Every strike, every block, every drop of blood—Dareth hadn't sent an enemy to kill me lightly. He wanted to see if I could survive the unthinkable.
And I had.
But survival wasn't enough. This fight left no illusions. Dareth would not waste time sending another minor threat. The next one would come to execute, not to test. And when that day came, I would need more than skill—I would need every ounce of cunning, every fragment of strength, every edge the Soul Resonance could give me.
I pushed myself upright, leaning on Ryn for support. My hands were shaking, but my mind was clear. Pain was temporary. Rage was fuel. And vengeance… vengeance was eternal.
The city beyond the broken walls felt smaller now, as if everything that had been alive before this fight was nothing compared to what was coming. I let my gaze drift over the streets, imagining the targets, the enemies, the power I would have to crush to reach Aric and the man who had turned my life into a battlefield.
"Let's clean this up," Ryn said, her voice quiet but steady. "We can't leave traces like this."
I nodded. Each broken crate, each scorched rune, every splintered beam—they were reminders, evidence that Kael Draven didn't stumble blindly into danger. He survived. He adapted. He struck back harder.
And now… the game had changed.
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Αντιγραφή κώδικα
[ Rank Progression: C → B- ]
[ Experience Gained: 1,250 XP ]
The system chimed softly in my mind, almost like a whisper. Not a notification this time—but a recognition. A confirmation. Every battle, every wound, every moment of raw, burning determination—it all counted toward the path I had chosen.
I looked at Ryn. Her eyes were fierce, steady. "We prepare," I said. "Because this was just the beginning."
And deep down, under the pain, under the blood, under the exhaustion—I smiled. Let Dareth send what he wanted. Let him escalate.
Because Kael Draven was ready for war.