The battlefield outside had turned into ruin.
Dust hung heavy in the air as Aijack and Rakan's uncle clashed again and again, their fight stretching on far longer than anyone expected. The man's arms were terrifying—dense, packed with raw power. Every swing shattered the air itself, strong enough to crush weapons, armor, even reinforced steel as if they were nothing more than clay.
Aijack abandoned weapons entirely.
He met strength with strength.
Fist slammed into fist. Elbow to shoulder. Knee to ribs.
Each collision echoed like thunder. Aijack's body screamed in pain, but his eyes stayed sharp. He knew one mistake here meant death.
The scene shifted.
Oban lay half-buried in broken stone as Rakan stood above him, calm and cruel.
"I thought you were strong," Rakan said, cracking his neck. "But I was wrong. You're just another weak bat."
He lunged.
Oban rolled aside at the last second, the ground exploding where he had been. He forced himself upright, breath uneven, mind racing.
How am I supposed to beat this monster…?
Rakan didn't even look tired.
Oban reached behind his back and slowly pulled out his Vampiric Blade.
A faint red glow spread across its edge.
[Weapon Status — Vampiric Blade]Sharpness: EnhancedBlood Absorption: ActiveDurability: HighSpecial Effect: Blood Resonance
Oban inhaled deeply.
Then he moved.
Faster than before.
He closed the distance in a blur and slashed straight for Rakan's chest.
Clang.
The blade stopped.
Not against armor.
Not against bone.
Rakan's muscles tightened, forming an invisible wall. The strike didn't even reach his skin.
Rakan's smile widened.
He slammed his foot into the ground.
The earth shattered.
Both of them were thrown downward as the ground collapsed beneath them. Rakan landed smoothly, barely bending his knees. Oban wasn't so lucky—his body slammed hard into the rubble, pain exploding through his back.
"Pathetic," Rakan muttered.
He kicked Oban mid-rise.
Oban flew, crashing into stone. Blood spilled from his mouth as he slid across the ground.
But his eyes gleamed.
Good.
Using the blood pooling beneath him, Oban raised his hand.
The liquid twisted, hardening into a blood projection shield, intercepting Rakan's next attack. The impact sent cracks through it—but it held.
Oban didn't stop.
He pulled out his Ice Mace, its surface pulsing with both frost and blood.
He slammed it into the ground.
A wave of freezing energy surged outward. Ice spread in all directions, swallowing the battlefield. Frost climbed Rakan's legs, locking him in place.
For a moment—
It worked.
Rakan flexed.
The ice shattered violently, chunks flying everywhere. But thin red lines marked his skin. The attack had scratched him.
Rakan looked down at the damage, then back at Oban.
"This isn't enough to stop me."
Oban wiped the blood from his lips and smirked faintly.
"I didn't try to."
Rakan narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean?"
Oban raised his finger.
"Look up."
Rakan hesitated—then glanced skyward.
The shattered ice above them shimmered.
It wasn't just ice.
It was blood-mixed frost.
And some of that blood…
Was already inside him.
Rakan's expression changed as pain suddenly stabbed through his body. His muscles tensed uncontrollably.
Oban stepped forward, voice steady.
"My blood isn't normal," he said. "It's filled with microscopic insects. Once inside you, they move through your nerves."
Rakan growled, veins bulging as he forced his muscles to tighten.
The pain slowed.
Then stopped.
Rakan exhaled sharply and straightened.
"Nice trick," he said. "But not enough."
Using sheer control, he crushed the infected blood inside his body, isolating it before it could spread further.
He looked at Oban like a predator who had finished playing.
"Now let me smash you, kid."
Rakan moved.
Too fast.
He appeared in front of Oban and punched.
Oban blocked—but the force didn't stop.
His body was launched backward, smashing through multiple walls before finally crashing to the ground. Everything went silent.
Dust settled.
Oban struggled to move.
[System Analysis]Enemy: RakanThreat Level: ExtremeEstimated Chance of Victory: 47%
Oban clenched his fist.
Blood dripped from his hand.
"Then I'll fight within that 47%," he whispered.
The battle was far from over.