Nas tore through the woods, the blonde girl stubbornly at his heels. Every ocean dweller that crossed his path fell beneath his feet - quick, brutal takedown, one after another. He didn't stop to think, didn't stop to rest. His only thought was his friends.
Then he saw them.
Phoebe was dragging Alexei across the sand, her hand trembling, her breath ragged. Alexei's eyes were shut — his skin pale, almost translucent. The faint golden glow that usually pulsed beneath his veins was gone.
He was out of solar energy.
Completely drained.
"Phoebe!" Nas shouted, rushing to her side.
She looked up, relief flashing across her face for a brief moment.
"He's alive," she said quickly, "but he's out cold. He burned through everything."
Nas's gaze swept the battlefield beyond her. "Where's Michael?"
"He's still fighting " she said grimly. "He and the other supernaturals are trying to stop one of the generals from reaching the city. There were three of them — one's already inside, one's fighting Michael's dad, and this one —"
Nas didn't let her finish. He was already gone.
The forest blurred around him as he sprinted, every muscle in his body tightening with dread.
———
He arrived to find the woods in ruin.
Fires burned in patches, lighting the shattered trees in hues of orange and blue. Bodies of both sides littered the forest floor — some unconscious, some worse. The few supernaturals still standing were exhausted, leaning on trees for support.
And at the center of it all — the ocean dweller general.
He wore armor of black and deep sapphire, a faint glow pulsing along the royal sigil etched into his chestplate. He moved with terrifying ease, deflecting spells and strikes without drawing his sword once.
Michael stood before him, barely holding on. His shirt was torn, his skin covered in burns and bruises, his flames flickering weakly around his arms.
The ocean dweller smiled — cruel and calm.
He slammed his fist into Michael's stomach. The impact cracked the air.
Michael's body lifted from the ground, sent flying. The general leapt after him, twisting midair for a finishing blow —
But a golden blue intercepted him.
Nas's foot collided with the general's chest, sending him crashing through a line of trees. Nas caught Michael before he hit the ground and set him down gently.
Michael grooned, clutching his ribs. "Took you long enough."
Nas didn't answer.
His appearance had changed — his eyes glowed an ethereal blue, his hair shimmering like molten gold under the moonlight. Black claws curved from his fingertips, and fangs glinted as his jaw tightened.
The Ocean dweller stepped out of the wreckage, brushing bark and ash off his armor. He grinned.
"Beautiful magic you have there, kid" he said, voice deep and mocking. "But it's nothing compared to what I can do."
He lunged forward, faster than before. NAS barely fucked, but the next instant, the man's head smashed into his. A crack echoed as Nas stumbled back, only to be kicked across the clearing.
He wiped the blood from his mouth and smiled.
"Guess I'll just have to be faster."
This time, when he moved, the air shuddered. His punches blurred into streaks of blue light — faster, sharper, cleaner. He fought not like a brawler but as dancer forged in fire and fury.
He began blending his magic with his martial art, each strike powered by more than muscle. His mana surged through his limbs, heightened every reflex, every motion. The ground split beneath each kick.
He caught the general's punch mid air, twisting his body, trapping both the man's arms between his legs and shoulder, and driving his knee straight into the general's chin.
The blow was like thunder.
But the general only smiled through blood.
The fight raged on — brutal, unrelenting. Nas's speed was otherworldly, but with every bit, he felt his strength slipping. His body trembled, his vision blurred.
Then the Ocean dweller stepped back.
He clasped his helmet. It hit the ground with a full thud.
Underneath was a face both strange and human. His skin was an unsettling Ultra black, a deep, flat charcoal that seemed to absorb the weak like from the moon, making his features hard to define. His eyes were the most striking feature, large spherical and luminous gold, glowing faintly like twin Whirlpool in the darkness. Two pairs of thin, crescent, scar-like folds — the sealed gills — pulsed almost imperceptibly along the side of his neck as he exhaled the humid air. Slowly, he began stripping off his heavy armour, piece by piece, until his body was bare except for the sigil burned into his chest.
"I have had enough fun" he said, flexing his claws.
"Let me show you what true pressure feels like."
The air grew heavy — water energy condensed around him, rippling like the surface of an unseen ocean. Trees bent, the ground cracked, and Nas felt his lungs tighten.
The real fight was about to begin.
"I'll take you seriously now" the ocean dweller said.
In the blink of an eye, he was besides Nas.
Nas realized a second too late — the punch landed square in his ribs. A sickening crack split the air as he was launched through a wall of trees, splinters slicing his skin. He hit the ground hard, the wind knocked from his lungs.
His ribs burned. One more but like that and he'd be dead.
Through the haze of pain, he heard a voice — soft, trembling.
"Michael"
Phoebe had entered the clearing. She froze when she saw Michael broken and bloodied, his flames barely flickering. Her eyes widened, tears welling as she rushed to him.
Nas watched, the pain in his chest mixing with something colder. Jealousy. Even now, she didn't look at him, she didn't see him.
The blond witch noticed his silence, and before he dark thoughts could swallow him, she shouted,
"You can do it! You can beat him!"
At the same time, she snapped her fingers, casting a migraine hex on the ocean dweller. The man grunted, clutching his head in irritation.
Nas blinked, snapped out of it. Without thinking, be grabbed the girl, hoisted her onto his back, and bolted into the forest.
"Hey — why are you carrying me!?" She yelled, her fists pounding his back.
"You're a coven witch, right?"
"Yes, but that doesn't answer my question!"
"Then you must have a healing spell or something. My ribs are cracked!"
"I've got a potion" she admitted, "but I'm not sure it'll work. I only brewed it once and the rat I tested it on exploded."
Nas nearly tripped. "What — what kind of nonsense —" he muttered under his breath.
"What?"
"Nothing!" He shouted, weaving through the trees.
Behind them, water spikes tore through bark and stone, closing him fast.
"Did he just make his own water?" The girl asked, eyes wide.
Nas shook his hand. "No. He's pulling moisture from the plants."
She nodded quickly. "That makes more sense. No mage can create their element from nothing. You can only manipulate or summon, but not create. Even elementors can't do that."
Nas's mind raced. Just how strong is this guy...?
"Give me the potion" he said " were almost at the shore. That's where he'll be strongest — the ocean's his playground. But if we're lucky, Uncle Justin's done with his own general. He'll help us."
The witch popped open the flask and poured the glowing blue liquid into Nas's mouth. He winced at the burn in his throat but kept running, dodging water spikes that grazed his arms and legs. His magic form was fading — his golden hair dimming, claws retracting — but he refused to stop.
They burst through the final tree line and into the open ocean coast.
----
At the shore line, the battle had already ended.
Bodies — both supernaturals and ocean dwellers — lay scattered across the sand. The smell of burnt salt and ozone filled the air.
And in the middle of it all stood Justin. Calm, composed, annoyed.
The ocean dweller general bed fought was unconscious at his feet, his massive Trident crumbling into mist. The remaining soldiers had either fled or fallen.
Justin sighed, burshing dust off his black coat as the wind whipped his curls.
"Well, that was boring" he muttered. "Guess I expected too much. Complete waste of my time."
Around him, mages and supernaturals whispered in awe.
"So this is the standard of the Assembly..."
"Don't you know who that is? That's ELEMA JUSTIN the sloth — the Assembly's Ace general manager. Rank number five."
"They say he could be top three if he wasn't so damn lazy."
"Then why's someone like him even here?"
"Because the FLAME EMPEROR is here too."
"Wait — the Flame Emperor? The former rank seven?"
"Yeah. Both of them. In the same place."
"That's overkill..."
Justin tapped the side of his earpiece, ignoring the chatter. "You done yet?"
A lazy voice crackled through the line, faint music playing in the background
"Yeah, finished about twenty minutes ago. Sent the jet to drop the injured off at the hospital. Just need to finish this drink first."
Justin exhaled. "Of course you do."
He turned towards the sea — his eyes narrowing as the water began to tremble again.
"And here I thought the party was over."