Chapter 38 — Collapse
The battlefield had changed.
Not in shape—ruined stone, shattered hive crystal, scorched earth were still everywhere—but in feel. The air no longer vibrated with wild exchanges or explosive force. It pressed down instead, heavy and oppressive, like a held breath stretched too long.
Vaibhav stood in front of the Revenant.
No—stood wasn't quite right anymore.
His movements had slowed, no longer flowing with the terrifying precision they had moments ago. The pitch-black sclera and white pupils were still there, but the unnatural stillness that once wrapped around him had begun to thin, like fog burning away under a rising sun.
The Revenant noticed.
Its instincts screamed—not panic, not fear, but opportunity.
It shifted its stance.
Not the adaptive, cautious posture it had used earlier, but something lower, wider. Brutal. Final. The way a predator moves when it realizes its prey is tiring.
It lunged.
Vaibhav's body reacted, but half a beat too slow.
The Revenant's fist slammed into his torso with crushing force. The impact didn't throw him back—it folded him inward, lifting him off the ground before hurling him sideways into the broken terrain.
Stone shattered where he landed.
Vaibhav rolled once, twice, then skidded across fractured ground before stopping near a collapsed hive pillar.
The Revenant didn't roar.
It didn't gloat.
It followed.
Vaibhav pushed himself up, one knee scraping against stone. His body still moved on instinct, but the sharpness was gone. Each motion lagged, as though the invisible hand guiding him was losing its grip.
The Revenant closed in and struck again.
A heavy knee drove into Vaibhav's abdomen. The sound was dull and deep—like something breaking far beneath the surface. Vaibhav's body lifted off the ground, then slammed down hard, dust exploding outward.
Another blow followed immediately.
Then another.
Each strike landed with deliberate cruelty, aimed not to knock him back, but to end him. The Revenant had stopped testing. It had stopped learning.
Now it was destroying.
Vaibhav's body twitched as it tried to respond—an elbow rising, a foot shifting—but the movements were sloppy, uncoordinated. The machine-like efficiency was gone, replaced by something fragile.
The Revenant seized him by the front of his clothes and drove a crushing punch straight into his chest.
Vaibhav's body went limp mid-impact.
He was hurled backward like a broken doll, smashing into the ground with a heavy, final thud. The dust took longer to settle this time.
He didn't move.
The pitch-black sclera faded first.
The white glow in his pupils dimmed—then vanished entirely.
Vaibhav lay still.
Completely unconscious.
For a moment, the battlefield was silent.
No roaring.
No cracking stone.
No shifting pressure.
Even the molten fissures in the ground seemed to dim, as though the world itself was waiting.
The Revenant stood over him, chest rising and falling in uneven breaths. Its violet cracks pulsed erratically now—evidence of damage accumulated, of systems strained beyond ideal limits.
But it was still standing.
Still lethal.
It looked down at Vaibhav's unmoving body.
Then it raised one leg.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
The intent was unmistakable.
One step.
One stomp.
The fight would end.
Alicia screamed.
Her body moved before her mind caught up.
Pain tore through her body as she forced herself upright. Her vision blurred, but she didn't slow. She couldn't.
"No—!"
She threw herself forward, every step a jolt of agony, and planted herself between the Revenant and Vaibhav just as its leg came down.
Her hands snapped up.
Ethereal Divide manifested in front of her—a translucent, crystalline barrier flaring into existence just in time.
The Revenant's stomp collided with it.
The impact detonated outward, a concussive wave blasting dust and debris in all directions. Alicia screamed as the force ripped through her arms, but the barrier held—just barely—deflecting the brunt of the strike away from Vaibhav's body.
The ground split where the redirected force hit.
Alicia staggered back, boots carving shallow trenches into the stone.
She didn't stop.
Her teeth clenched, she layered another construct into place.
Void Halo.
A shimmering ring of compressed force snapped into existence around her, rotating slowly, intercepting the Revenant's follow-up strikes as it lashed out again. Claws struck the halo, sparks flying as energy screamed under pressure.
Alicia's arms shook violently.
Her breathing turned ragged.
But she stood.
The Revenant shifted its focus.
Its head tilted slightly, attention locking onto her now—the last obstacle between it and its kill.
It advanced.
Each step pushed her back.
The halo flickered as claws slammed into it again and again. Hairline fractures spread across the Ethereal Divide in front of her, light leaking through the cracks.
Alicia dug her heels in.
"I won't—" she gasped, forcing strength into her voice, "—let you—!"
The pressure became unbearable.
Her constructs screamed under strain, vibrating so violently her vision blurred. Her knees buckled, but she forced herself upright again, blood trickling from the corner of her mouth.
Then she made a decision.
Her eyes hardened.
She released everything.
"Dominion Reversal."
The layered constructs shattered—not outward, but inward, collapsing into a single, compressed surge of stored force. For one heartbeat, the battlefield went white.
Then the blast erupted.
A violent wave of energy slammed into the Revenant at point-blank range, launching it backward across the ruined terrain. It tore through broken hive structures, smashing pillars apart and carving a long, jagged trench before finally crashing to a halt in the distance.
Alicia collapsed to one knee, chest heaving.
For a second—just a second—it worked.
But the Revenant moved again.
Too fast.
Too soon.
It rose from the rubble with a distorted snarl, body twitching as it forced itself forward through accumulated damage. Its movements were rougher now, less fluid—but no less deadly.
It crossed the distance in a blur.
Alicia barely had time to look up.
The blow hit her squarely.
The impact lifted her off the ground and sent her flying—far beyond the immediate battlefield, through shattered hive corridors and collapsed structures, until she vanished into the distance in a trail of dust and debris.
The sound of her crash echoed faintly, then faded.
Silence returned.
Vaibhav lay motionless.
Alicia was gone.
The Revenant straightened slowly, chest heaving, violet cracks pulsing like an unstable heartbeat.
It turned.
Only one figure remained standing on the battlefield now.
Shin.
He didn't rush.
He didn't shout.
He didn't even look at Alicia's empty trajectory in the distance again.
He simply reached into his pocket, uncorked the small vial, and drank it in one smooth motion.
The liquid burned its way down his throat—sharp, chemical, alive. Heat bloomed in his chest, then spread outward, threading through muscle and nerve. His heartbeat steadied. Not faster. Cleaner.
His shoulders rolled once.
His spine straightened.
The tremor in his legs faded into stillness.
Across the battlefield, the Revenant turned fully toward him.
Its posture was different now—less fluid, more rigid. Violet fissures along its body pulsed unevenly, like a broken rhythm struggling to maintain itself. Thick breaths rasped from its chest, each exhale carrying a faint hiss, as if something inside it was eating away from within.
Shin stepped forward.
Boots scraped softly against shattered stone.
His voice, when he spoke, was quiet. Dry. Tired—but honed to an edge.
"Yare yare," he muttered.
"Hayaku jigoku e ikitee n da na."
(Yare yare… So you're in that much of a hurry to go to hell.)
The Revenant snarled.
Shin raised his hand.
Silver light gathered.
His sword-type beast spirit manifested — The blade extended into existence.
Shin lowered his center of gravity.
Left foot slid forward, toes angled slightly inward.
Right foot anchored back, heel grounded.
Knees bent just enough to absorb recoil.
His left hand rested lightly at the base of the sheath-less blade, fingers relaxed—not gripping, merely guiding.
His right hand wrapped around the hilt, thumb pressing gently against the guard.
The blade angled downward, edge facing behind him.
His shoulders aligned.
His spine straightened.
His breathing slowed to a single, controlled rhythm.
Moonlight Swordstyle: 5th Form — Silver Pulse Draw.
A stance built on stillness.
A draw designed to end a fight in the space between heartbeats.
The air tightened.
Not from pressure—but from focus.
Even the Revenant felt it.
Its instincts screamed danger—not vague, not distant, but immediate and lethal. The creature's claws flexed, digging into stone as it prepared to move.
It lunged.
The ground exploded beneath its feet as it hurled itself forward, abandoning caution for overwhelming force. Its arm came down in a brutal arc, aimed straight at Shin's centerline—fast enough to shatter a mountain, heavy enough to pulp bone.
Shin started the draw.
Just a fraction too late.
The Revenant's blow struck him mid-motion.
The impact was catastrophic.
Shin was lifted off his feet and hurled backward like a ragdoll, his body spinning through the air before crashing hard into the fractured ground. Stone shattered beneath him as he skidded to a stop, coughing blood, vision flashing white at the edges.
The sword spirit shattered. Disappear into particles.
Shin groaned, forcing air back into his lungs.
"…Tch."
He pushed himself onto one knee, arm shaking.
The Revenant advanced.
But something was wrong.
Its steps were uneven now. One foot dragged slightly. Its left arm twitched mid-motion, failing to respond with the same precision as before. Its breathing had turned ragged—deep inhales followed by strained, hissing exhales.
The radiation had finally reached critical depth.
Inside the Revenant's body, systems that once regenerated effortlessly were slowing. Cells failed to divide correctly. Muscle fibers spasmed. Reflex pathways lagged.
It snarled and forced itself forward anyway.
Adaptation screamed—but the damage was too deep.
Shin noticed.
He grinned weakly.
"Finally," he muttered. "Kicking in, huh?"
The Revenant raised its arm.
Slowly.
Too slowly.
It meant to finish him—crush the last obstacle and move on to consume whatever had disappeared from the battlefield.
Shin tried to stand fully.
Then—
The Revenant froze.
Mid-strike.
Its arm hung suspended in the air, muscles locked, claws trembling violently. It tried to move—forced itself—but its body refused to obey.
A low, distorted sound escaped its throat, halfway between confusion and alarm.
The air above the battlefield warped.
Not rippling—folding.
Space itself bent inward, compressing like fabric pulled tight by unseen hands. Light twisted. Shadows stretched unnaturally long.
Shin's eyes widened.
"…What the hell?"
The distortion deepened.
Then split open.
Four figures descended from the sky.
Silhouettes framed against the fractured heavens, their forms cutting through the warped space as if stepping down from another layer of reality. Power pressed outward from them—not explosive, not aggressive—but absolute.
The Revenant trembled.
Instinct screamed a single word into whatever passed for its mind:
Run.
But its body still wouldn't move.
Shin stared up at the descending figures, breath catching in his chest.
The battlefield fell silent.
No wind.
No sound.
No movement.
Just the frozen Revenant, the broken ground, and four shadows arriving like judgment itself.