Part 1: The Dirty Play
The duel had raged for nearly two hours. The Burning Keep was no longer a building; it was a hollowed-out shell of stone and ash.
Elian stood over the Warlord. His sword, Winter's Eclipse, was buried deep in the gap of Thorne's neck armor.
Thorne dropped to one knee, his massive hands gripping the blade of Elian's sword to keep it from slicing deeper.
Elian leaned in, his weight on the hilt, trying to force the blade down for the kill.
"It's over," Elian wheezed, his stamina bar flashing red.
Thorne looked up. His helmet was cracked, revealing a bloodied, smiling mouth.
He didn't speak. He moved his right hand—the one Elian thought was useless.
Thorne didn't reach for a potion. He reached into his boot.
SHINK.
A hidden serrated knife appeared.
Before Elian could react, Thorne drove the blade upward, plunging it deep into Elian's stomach.
[-1,200 HP (Bleed Effect Applied)]
"Guh!" Elian gasped, his eyes widening.
The pain was blinding. Instinct took over. Elian didn't let go of the sword immediately. He grabbed Thorne's wrist with one hand and slammed his boot into Thorne's chest.
THUD.
Elian kicked off, ripping the knife out of Thorne's grip as he launched himself backward.
He landed hard on the stone floor, skidding through the ash.
Elian clutched his stomach. The knife was still stuck in him.
If I pull it out, I bleed out, Elian realized, his vision swimming. If I leave it in, I can't move.
Part 2: The Walking Calamity
Thorne didn't fall.
The Warlord stood up, swaying like a drunkard. Blood bubbled from his mouth, choking his words, but his eyes were manic.
He reached up with both hands and grabbed the hilt of Winter's Eclipse—still stuck in his neck.
"HRRRRAAAH!"
With a wet, sickening sound of tearing metal and flesh, Thorne pulled the sword out of his own body.
Blood sprayed, coating his armor in crimson.
He didn't drop it. He gripped Elian's sword in his massive hand.
Thorne began to walk.
Scrape. Scrape. Scrape.
The tip of the sword dragged against the stone floor, creating a trail of sparks. Thorne couldn't run anymore. He could barely walk. But he was coming.
Elian tried to stand, but his legs failed him. He was at 5% HP. The bleed was ticking. He was kneeling, panting so hard his chest felt like it was caving in.
He's too tanky, Elian thought, watching the monster approach. Two hours of hitting him, and he still stands.
Thorne reached him.
The Warlord loomed over the crouching Elian, blotting out the firelight.
Thorne looked down at the tiny, broken boy. He smiled, blood dripping onto Elian's face.
He raised Elian's own sword high above his head for the execution.
Part 3: The Wolf's Glare
The sword reached the apex. Gravity began to pull it down.
In that fraction of a second, Elian stopped panting.
He lifted his head. His hazel eyes locked onto Thorne's manic gaze.
[Skill Activated: Predator's Intimidation (Alpha Fear)]
(Source: Floor 1 Alpha Wolf)
An illusory image of a giant, snarling wolf head manifested behind Elian. A primal wave of killing intent blasted into Thorne's mind.
It wasn't enough to stop a Level 45 Boss.
But it was enough to make him flinch.
[Status: Fear Applied.]
[Duration: 1.4 Seconds.]
Thorne froze. The sword halted mid-swing.
1.4 seconds.
To a tank, it was a blink.
To Elian, it was a lifetime.
Elian's hand moved to his stomach. He gripped the handle of the serrated knife Thorne had stabbed him with.
He ripped it out of his own gut.
SQUELCH.
Elian didn't scream. He channeled every last ounce of stamina into his legs.
He lunged upward.
He didn't aim for the neck. He aimed for the tiny, exposed gap in Thorne's chest plate—the spot that had opened up when Thorne raised his arms high.
Directly over the heart.
THUNK.
Elian drove the knife in to the hilt.
Thorne's eyes went wide. The fear effect ended, but it was too late.
Elian hung there, holding the knife, his face inches from the Warlord's.
"Checkmate," Elian whispered.
Elian twisted the blade.
CRACK.
Thorne's health bar, which had been clinging to a sliver, shattered.
Blood flooded from Thorne's mouth, washing over Elian's hand. The Warlord dropped the sword. He looked at Elian with a mixture of hatred and respect.
Then, the light in his eyes died.
The massive body turned grey, then cracked, then exploded into a storm of high-tier loot and blue data.
[Boss Defeated: Warlord Thorne (Level 45)]
[Level Up!]
[Level Up!]
Elian fell to the floor, splashing into the puddle of digital residue.
He lay there on his back, staring at the burning ceiling.
His hands were shaking. His HP was at 1%.
He reached into his inventory with trembling fingers and pulled out a shimmering golden vial—Luna's Ambrosia.
He popped the cork with his teeth and poured it down his throat.
The warmth spread through him, stitching his stomach wound and refilling his stamina.
Elian closed his eyes, a tired smile spreading across his face.
"This... is the best."
Part 4: The Long Silence
[Outside the Keep: The Crater]
The battle to clear the island had ended 24 minutes ago.
The total operation had taken 1 hour and 9 minutes.
But the team had been waiting in the crater for nearly half an hour since the last Dynasty scream faded.
Valen stood like a statue, staring at the burning entrance.
The ground had stopped shaking. The explosions had ceased.
The silence was louder than the war.
"It's been too long," Titan whispered, fidgeting with his shield. "The noise stopped five minutes ago."
Roger checked his thermal scope. "Too much fire interference. I can't see a heat signature."
Valen gripped his sword handle until his leather gloves creaked.
He won, Valen told himself. He has to win.
But doubt was a heavy thing. Thorne was a Calamity. And silence usually meant the victor was the one left standing.
Suddenly, a shadow moved in the smoke of the doorway.
It was big. Heavy.
Valen's heart dropped.
"Formation!" Valen barked, his voice cracking. "Shields up! Something is coming out!"
Titan transformed, growing to ten feet tall. Isara drew her daggers. Seraphina raised her staff, her hands trembling.
They prepared to fight the Warlord to the death.
The figure stepped out of the smoke.
It wasn't Thorne.
It was a boy, dragging a sword that looked too heavy for him, his armor shredded, his face covered in soot and dried blood. He was limping, favoring his left side.
Part 5: The Return
"Captain!"
Titan didn't wait for orders. He broke formation.
The giant boy sprinted across the mud. He released his [Gigantification] mid-run, shrinking back down to his normal size just as he tackled Elian.
"You're alive!" Titan sobbed, hugging Elian so hard he lifted him off the ground. tears streaming down his face. "I thought... I thought..."
"Easy, big guy," Elian wheezed, patting Titan's back. "My ribs are still knitting together."
Valen let out a breath that sounded like a deflating balloon. He walked over, stabbing The Sun-Forged Blade into the ground and leaning against it, his legs finally giving out.
"You took your time," Valen said, trying to sound stern, but his relief was palpable.
Seraphina ran to Valen's side, leaning against the Paladin's arm for support. She looked at Elian and beamed. "I told them to wait."
In the background, Jax and Isara sheathed their weapons, sharing a quiet grin.
Elian gently pushed Titan off him and looked at the group.
Roger was sitting casually on a massive pile of Dynasty loot bags, polishing his rifle.
"So, Captain," Roger drawled, kicking a bag full of gold coins. "I did a lot of work today.
Snipering, coordinating, babysitting the tank. Maybe I could get a little extra bonus? Like... this pile here?"
Elian looked at the mountain of loot. Then he looked at his battered team.
He smiled—a real, genuine smile.
"Bonus?" Elian laughed, though it turned into a cough. "I didn't see any of that hard work you speak of. Looked like you were just sitting on a dragon all day."
The team burst into laughter.
Titan wiped his eyes, giggling. Valen shook his head, chuckling. Even Roger cracked a smile behind his goggles.
They stood amidst the ruins of a destroyed fortress, surrounded by six hundred dead enemies, battered and bleeding—but they were laughing like kids on a playground.
Part 6: The Watcher
High above on the cliff edge, watching the scene unfold, stood Prince Thal'dor.
The Sky-Kin crossed his arms, leaning on his crystal spear.
He had planned to take his payment and leave. He viewed humans as weak, fractured creatures who only banded together out of fear.
But he watched Titan hug the Captain. He watched the Paladin lean on his sword, relieved. He heard the laughter.
He looked at Elian—a human who had defeated a Calamity alone, yet his first act was to joke with his subordinates.
Strength draws respect, Thal'dor mused. But loyalty... loyalty builds empires.
The Prince uncrossed his arms. A small, rare smile touched his blue lips.
He turned and walked back into the jungle shadows.
He wouldn't tell them today.
But the Prince of the Sky had found a new flight to follow.