Chapter 27.
"Here it comes…" Dreadmane whispered, spreading his arms in a cross, a grin curving his lips.
"Dramatic landing," he added, leaning forward, eyes on the sky as Theresa descended.
The earth trembled. She struck the ground with both knees, one hand curled into a fist pressed to the soil, the other extended for balance, head bowed, hair trailing in the wind.
"I told you!" Dreadmane shouted from atop the rock, clapping in mock applause. "Let me guess... you're here to avenge what I did earlier?" His eyes gleamed against the setting sun.
"That rock…" she said softly, still in her stance, her voice calm but edged with power.
"What about it?" he asked, tilting his head until it cracked, one eye wide, the other narrowed. "Was it where you were born?" His grin widened, sharp and mocking.
"No."
She rose slowly, dust swirling around her feet. "It was where our master was found eight years ago."
Her head tilted slightly, still downcast. "Now, I suggest we do this elsewhere."
"And what if I—"
He never finished. Theresa's fist was already in his face, sending him hurtling through the air.
"You won't have the chance," she said, voice steady as stone.
Dreadmane skidded across the ground, his body crashing against a tree. He blinked in disbelief, blood running from his nose yet his wounds refused to heal.
"What the—why am I not healing?" he muttered, staring at the red on his fingers. The bleeding slowed, but the shock didn't.
"Looks like you can still heal," Theresa said, walking toward him, white aura blazing.
"That was just luck," he spat, straightening his body, eyes darkening to black. "Let's see if you can do that again."
He vanished.
Theresa stood still, eyes closed, her breath deep and centered.
Then air split behind her.
"Last time Lord Ethen saved you," Dreadmane hissed, his hand formed into a blade. "This time, he won't be your hero!"
His strike never landed. Without even looking, Theresa raised her hand and caught his wrist mid-swing.
His eyes widened, mouth open in shock.
"Hero?" she asked softly, turning her head.
"Who told you that?"She released him gently as if dismissing a child.
He stumbled back, trembling though trying to mask it. "You've… powered up fast," he muttered. "Meditation helps, huh?"
By then, the others had arrived.
Ethen, Lucas, and the rest stood at the forest's edge, the glow of battle painting their faces.
"So, the kids came to watch," Dreadmane said, cracking his neck, feigning ease.
"You talk too much, do you know that?" Theresa said, her steps slow, deliberate.
"Maybe because I'm the cheering king!" he barked, launching forward.
His fist met only air. A kick blocked.
Strike after strike each one parried with calm grace.
Their movements blurred, dust spiraling like ghosts around them.
"Why's Mother just blocking?" Jake asked.
"Yeah, she has the upper hand right now," Solvian added.
Lucas folded his arms. "She's not fighting with spells anymore… look closely."
His voice softened in awe. "What I taught her... it's no longer a spell. It's her body, her spirit, and her soul as one."
"Evading won't save you!" Dreadmane shouted, lunging again.
Theresa caught his fist effortlessly. "You're right," she said, her voice steady. "Now I'll show you what I've learned."
Her counterpunch landed square on his face sending him crashing backward, earth splitting beneath him.
Dreadmane's orange eyes flickered wildly. "Why… why is this happening again?"
Before he could recover, Theresa appeared before him, her fist glowing white.
Her blow struck his gut with such force that his breath escaped in a gasp. He slammed against a nearby boulder, the impact echoing through the trees.
"Your flames power you, don't they?" she said, raising her hand as it ignited with white fire. "Let's see if these flames do the same."
He tried to laugh. "Heh… do what you—"
Her fist silenced him.The first punch broke his lip. The second shattered his jawline. Blood painted the stones crimson. The third, fourth, fifth each one heavier than the last. His regeneration failed. His power refused him. The black slime within him quivered but no longer obeyed.
He fell limp, breathing shallow.
"That's enough!"
Ethen's voice cut through the clearing, cold and commanding. His red eyes glowed beneath the moonlight. He approached, one hand in his pocket, every step controlled.
"You've done enough," he said to Theresa. She stepped aside silently, her flames fading.
Ethen knelt beside Dreadmane, staring down at him with disappointment. "You've failed me. You relied too much on the slime's power… not your own."
He lifted a hand, the moon's light glinting off his crimson eyes.
"No more."
"Wait please!" Dreadmane begged, trembling. "She caught me off guard! I can still—"
Ethen grabbed him by the face. "Until you learn to rely on your own strength," he whispered, "I strip you of your slime and your human form."
The air rippled. A black essence poured out of Dreadmane's body, writhing as it left him. His body cracked and reshaped, fur bursting from his skin, muscles expanding. The magic circle beneath him shattered. And then...
he roared.
"Rrrraaaahhhh!!!"
The sound shook the forest.
Prince Lucien's eyes widened. "That's… the Apex Beast of the forest…"
Ethen stood tall, tossing the black slime toward the humanoid Slime nearby.
"Merge," he commanded.
The slime obeyed, melting into its kin.
Ethen turned his gaze toward Thessaria. "You," he said. "Step forward."
She did so quietly, her shadow touching his.
"You just got yourself a new pet," Ethen said with a grin. "Take good care of him."
He turned away, the moonlight spilling over his shoulders, painting him in silver and blood.
To be continued...