Sparrow stood there, stunned. He hadn't anticipated anyone, much less a ragged, half-starved prisoner to repel his attack. Vel wasn't some common spear; it was a legendary artifact, one that tore through trained knights as easily as slicing wet parchment. Only two people Sparrow ever met had forced Vel off course: the Reaper and Leon Lighthart. And those two were walking calamities. But the man in front of him? This wasn't supposed to be possible.
He narrowed his eyes at Muliad. Yes… he knew the name. A fallen noble thrown into Thax Prison to die quietly, courtesy of Duke Driesten Lyren. The reports were sketchy, but Sparrow had heard whispers. Muliad wasn't weak, no, far from it. But to deflect Vel head-on? That wasn't something even Sparrow expected from him.
Still, there was another factor...The boy. That damn boy.
He was lying there uselessly in the dirt, barely conscious from exhaustion, yet something about him made the hairs on Sparrow's neck rise. His essence signature was wrong. Uneven. Chaotic. Like it didn't belong to someone at the level he appeared. Sparrow tried to probe deeper, to sense the flow of world essence gathering around him, but it slipped out of his grasp, distorted and masked by something he didn't understand.
The report said a black-haired boy destroyed Thax Prison. Not Muliad. That alone made Sparrow cautious.
He survived by understanding threats before they reached him. He fought like an assassin dirty, efficient, merciless. When the arrows failed to kill the boy, he'd used Vel to erase both targets at once. Now Vel had been slapped away by a man in his forties who looked like he should've been limping to a retirement home instead of pushing back a legendary artifact.
Sparrow clicked his tongue, annoyance boiling. His eyes drifted to Muliad again, exhausted, trembling, barely holding together. The deflection had cost him dearly. Then Sparrow glanced at the boy, still collapsed on the ground. And finally, Sparrow smiled. A slow, sly smile that told exactly what was going on in his head.
"So that's how it is…" he murmured, the wind carrying his voice with mock admiration. "You're strong, old man. Stronger than expected. But now?" His grin widened, predatory and cruel. "You're finished."
Wind essence surged around Sparrow's body, swirling in a violent spiral. The air pressure dropped, grass flattening beneath his boots. The atmosphere itself seemed to turn sharp.
He raised his hand and another spear of wind began to form, this one faster, denser and deadlier. Muliad's eyes widened. He couldn't take another hit like that. Not in his current state. Yet Harian watched from the ground, exhausted but smiling faintly, as if amused by Sparrow's sudden confidence.
Muliad, battered and barely standing, forced himself upright again. His arms trembled, his lungs burned, but he still raised his sword. A warrior owed his life to no one yet Muliad owed the boy. Harian had saved him back at Thax, and now, even if it cost him his life, Muliad intended to return that debt.
He gathered what little world essence he could. His body screamed in protest, but he ignored it. Sword Song Art flowed through his limbs, not for attack but for defense—every ounce of it compressed into a shield that might, might, hold for a fraction of a second.
Across from them, Sparrow raised his hand.
Vel began forming again in his grasp, wind essence swirling so violently the air itself distorted. This time, the pressure was monstrous. Sparrow was angry truly angry. He was gathering the world essence at a scale that made the forest groan.
Leaves tore from branches. Dust spiraled upward. The spear's form twisted, condensed, sharpened wind powerful enough to tear bone from flesh. Muliad felt sweat trickle down his spine.
Vel had returned to Sparrow's hand like it had never left in the first place. Ridiculous. Absurd. And yet somehow still less insane than the boy who had knocked down a building with a single sword swing.
"Boy!" Muliad shouted over the roaring wind. "When he strikes, I'll block it! You run! Run as far as you..."
He turned behind him.
Harian was gone.
"What?!"
His head snapped forward and his heart nearly stopped. Harian was already standing in front of Sparrow.
That same crazed grin twisted across his face, the same grin Muliad saw before Shadow Ascend tore the prison apart. Sparrow's eyes widened. He tried to retreat, steps sliding across the dirt...but Harian was faster.
Those thin fingers, trembling with excitement, reached not for Sparrow but for Vel and the moment his hands touched the spear, the world essence around it vanished. The swirling wind died as if suffocated. Vel clattered to the ground like it was nothing more than a dull piece of metal no glow, no aura, no divinity. Just an ordinary hunk of steel.
Sparrow froze.
Muliad froze.
Even the wind froze.
Harian straightened slowly, wobbling slightly, but his smile never left him. Eyes half-lidded, breathing heavy, he spoke with a tone that made the forest crawl.
"Thank you," he whispered.
Then the mad grin widened.
"For the meal."
Vex's voice thundered through Harian's skull.
[DEVOUR FIELD ACTIVATED. TARGET CONFIRMED. TARGET ESSENCE CONSUMPTION SUCCESSFUL.
ESSENCE AUTHORITY: 6.5%.
ESSENCE CAPACITY: MAXIMUM OUTPUT.]
Harian's grin twitched and then stretched wider. Vex's announcement was like music twisted, beautiful music. Sparrow felt his entire body go cold.
The divine essence that had wrapped Vel only a second ago… was gone. Completely erased. Like a nightmare dissipating at dawn.
Wind essence, his wind essence had been erased so thoroughly not even a trace of vapor lingered around him. Sparrow's breath caught in his throat. His palms dampened. His instincts screamed louder than any battlefield warning he had ever known. And that boy, That skinny, exhausted, half-dead boy was smiling at him with the expression of something that did not belong among humans.
Sparrow forced a shaky grin of his own. It was the first time in years his smile didn't feel confident, it felt like a mask stretched over fear.
"So the reports… were underestimating you."
His voice cracked at the edges. Harian tilted his head slightly, that smile still carved onto his face like a scar. Sparrow swallowed hard. This wasn't a kid. This wasn't even a prisoner.
This was another monster dressed in sheep's clothing.
A monster that if he didn't act carefully might erased him next.