The Fallen One

LUCIUS

My blade was just inches away—no, barely an inch—from sinking into the Chimaera's exposed neck. Victory was within reach. True, absolute victory. It felt as though the world itself paused for a heartbeat, holding its breath to witness the fall of an apex predator at the hands of one who refused to give up. A moment suspended in time, a grand ending carved into the silence before the inevitable—

BBBOOOOOM!

That sound shattered everything. The pressure in my chest turned to dread as instinct overtook triumph. I turned mid-air, blade held firm but heart lurching, the kill forgotten. I didn't need to think. I already knew. That sound had come from one place—Forza's direction. And something in me screamed that she wasn't safe.

My gaze locked onto her location. Something was approaching—fast, unnaturally fast. A shadow blurred through the sky, small and narrow, diving toward her like a divine spear cast down from the heavens. Whatever it was, it was moving at speeds I could barely comprehend, breaking through the air with a sonic roar. It wasn't a spell. It wasn't natural. It was alive—and locked on.

Forza reacted with the kind of precision only a veteran could muster, but even she wasn't at her full strength. Her body twisted mid-air, a sharp evasive manoeuvre executed with barely a sliver of mana. She dodged, but not by much. The thing grazed past her, carving through where she'd been only a breath before. Her limbs remained intact, but I could see it—she was tired, exhausted, nearing her limit. The toll of her battle with the Chimaera had drained her, and this new threat wasn't giving either of us time to recover or replenish.

I tried to make sense of what I'd seen. Was it another beast? A high-ranking aerial predator, perhaps even higher than the Chimaera? I didn't recognise it, not by shape or movement, but it was fast. Too fast. And if Forza could barely evade it… We had a new problem.

That realisation struck hard, and not just because of the unknown enemy. I turned back to the Chimaera, and my stomach sank. I had let her live. My moment of hesitation, of distraction, which barely lasted less than five seconds, had cost us. She was stirring again, and the energy rising from her body was not just familiar—it was furious. A surge of lightning-infused mana burst outward in all directions, raw and wild, twisting the air around her like a growing storm.

I clenched my jaw and dashed forward, Crimson Ultima gripped tight in both hands. I didn't ignite the flame. I couldn't afford to waste that kind of mana right now. Instead, I poured raw essence into the blade, feeling its edges hum with dense energy. I wasn't done. Not yet.

Her eyes met mine as I closed the distance. Four intelligent, venomous eyes locked onto me with chilling clarity. There was no confusion in them—no panic and no fear. Only hatred. A deep, personal loathing that somehow spoke to me without words. It wasn't just anger at being struck down—it was rage born from the insult of mercy, or perhaps ignoring her, I don't know.

I could read it in her gaze. "You should have killed me when you had the chance. Now, I'll make you regret that weakness—even after death."

The look she gave me was more than animal. It was calculated. Malevolent. The type of hate that doesn't end, even after blood stops flowing.

I gritted my teeth and whispered, "We'll see about that."

I raised my weapon, aiming directly for the neck. This time, I wouldn't stop. I wouldn't hesitate. No more mistakes. No more distractions.

But then, another sound rolled across the battlefield.

A low, guttural rumble, not from the earth, but from above. The grey sky darkened further as a deep growl echoed through the clouds, like thunder being dragged across the heavens by something ancient and angry. The air pressure shifted, and my instincts warned me that something was descending. Something massive.

I refused to look. I forced myself not to. I couldn't afford to take my eyes off her again. Whatever was coming… it wasn't my concern. Not yet. The sky wasn't my battlefield. My enemy was right here in front of me, bleeding, breathing, smiling—wait.

Smiling?

Half a meter from my lead foot, the Chimaera's lips curled into a hideous grin. Twisted and bloodied, it stretched wider than it should've, revealing rows of jagged teeth still slick with gore. There was something unnatural about it—something wrong. That smile wasn't born from instinct or madness. It was something deeper. A knowing expression, steeped in malice.

She wasn't afraid.

She wasn't beaten.

That smile was a warning—an omen. A promise that this wasn't over, not even close. And in that moment, I understood something I hadn't before.

Whatever was in the sky… it was my problem.

And I was already too late to stop it.

The thunder struck—yes, the actual thunder, not just a sound but a punishment of the storm, came crashing down. It wasn't a flash, nor a rumble. It was massive. Far too massive for any natural lightning strike I'd ever witnessed. And its impact point? The Chimaera, the sole impact point.

The moment it hit, everything around her erupted. The strike didn't simply land—it detonated a hundred times over compared to the ones our combined bombardment had caused. A colossal explosion of blinding light and raw power consumed the air, shook the very foundation beneath my feet, and electricity burst in all directions, dancing like living threads of wrath. The resulting boom was deafening, an ungodly sound that shook the entire swamp. For a split second, the world blurred. I was far too close to avoid the shockwave completely—but for once, luck favoured me.

Crimson Ultima pulsed with instinctive defence, its body rising between me and the blast like a living wall. Even then, the force hurled me backwards like a leaf in a hurricane. I flew. Across the water, across the mud, the entire swamp lake became a blur beneath me—until I finally crashed down on the far side, coughing, rolling, and finally skidding to a stop.

My hands and feet throbbed with bruises, my body aching, but nothing serious. No broken bones. No lasting injuries. Using the last of my healing potions to heal myself nearly completely, I should've been grateful—but I wasn't. Because as I slowly lifted my head and dared to glance skyward, what I saw reminded me this was far from over.

Forza was already airborne, engaged in battle with that aerial predator. It darted around her with terrifying agility. Its shape was sleek, sharp, but still, no known species came to mind. Whatever it was, it was deadly. I could barely follow its movements even from this distance. But more importantly…

A spike of killing intent erupted behind, in front of me.

No… not just killing intent. Malicious. Sentient. Cold and deliberate. It came from the very spot where the lightning had landed.

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I turned.

"What…?" I breathed. It didn't make sense. That thunder strike should've vaporised her. Nothing should have survived such a death-level discharge. And yet—she lived. Worse, she was moving. Worse still, her presence was growing.

The questions piled up like a collapsing mountain: How was she still alive? How could she emit such overwhelming mana right after being struck by thunder itself? What was she? No answer came to mind, but it didn't matter. Because the being that stepped forward from the smoke wasn't just a Chimaera anymore.

She felt like death reincarnated. Her eyes and tail were surprisingly calm...

I braced myself. Crimson Ultima hummed in my hands, its form shifting slightly as I instinctively shifted into a defensive stance. My mana surged outward, unfiltered, unchained, reacting to the monstrous presence before me. Two opposing forces clashed across the space between us. My aura, brimming with wariness, with protective instinct and survival. Hers… hers was pure hatred. Rage. Insult. It was darker than darkness, more still than the dead swamp water lying silently between us.

She stepped forward. Slowly. Deliberately.

Every step she took was cold, wrong. Not wrong in form, but in intent. Each movement oozed unnatural malice, the kind that didn't belong in beasts. Not even in sentient ones. Her body still bore the damage Forza had inflicted—ripped flesh, torn muscles, cracked bones. And yet she moved like she didn't feel any of it. Like, pain no longer mattered.

Lightning poured from her skin, coating her like armour. It didn't just flicker—it surged, replacing the air and raw mana itself, filling the region with static pressure so thick it became hard to breathe. Her lightning mana didn't just rival nature, the natural raw mana—it challenged it, for occupancy of space. Her presence didn't belong in the forest, nor the swamp. It claimed it.

Then—she roared.

A roar supercharged with lightning mana, so vast, so heavy, that the sonic pressure alone distorted the landscape. The swamp between us trembled. The lake's surface convulsed before being pulled—no, driven—toward me. A wave surged across the mud, a filthy tsunami of water and silt heading straight for my position.

The crash before me felt massive.

Water struck the ground in front of me with violent force, splashing past, submerging my boots for a few moments. And before I could even take a breath, she attacked again.

A pulse of electrical mana shot forward, using the newly formed water trail as its conduit. Her intention was clear—electrocute me through the very ground I stood on. Clever.

But I'd seen it coming.

I leapt back—once, twice, then a third time—creating enough distance before the current could reach me. Sparks erupted where I'd been just moments before, the air crackling with residual heat. My eye and senses darted around for cover, and then I spotted it—a tree.

Tall, thick, and surprisingly intact. It stood a little behind me and to my right. In this battlefield of ash, water, and broken land, it was the only thing that looked untouched. That meant one thing: either it was strong enough to resist… or about to become my only real option for repositioning.

I grabbed hold of a thick branch and hoisted myself up, the bark damp and half-slick from the humidity in the air. I wasn't even fully upright—hadn't even finished turning to face her—when the Chimaera appeared. She was already there.

On the same branch of the same tree. My immediate first thought was, 'How the hell can this malnourished-looking branch even be capable of holding her weight?!

Time stretched thin, then snapped.

The moment she arrived, a sound followed—one that didn't belong to her claws, nor her voice. It was the aftermath of lightning. That delayed crack of reality splitting open after a thunderstrike.

And then she screamed.

Her cry was deranged—less a roar and more the shriek of something unhinged, and with that, she lashed out. Her claws snapped toward my face and shoulder, wicked fast, crackling with current. Had it not been for Crimson Ultima, rising once more in instinctive defence, I would've lost my entire left arm, and perhaps more, since her claws are almost the size of my entire body.

But the blade took the brunt of it—and paid the price.

Sparks erupted as claw met edge. The impact didn't just rebound—it bit. Chunks of Ultima's outer edge chipped away under the sheer momentum of her strike. That singular, hellish claw didn't just attack—it broke through my last cover a little, snapping through steel and mana reinforcement alike. My sword arm buckled sideways under the weight, leaving the rest of me wide open.

She took the opening without hesitation.

Her fist—yes, a fist—tightened like a human's and slammed into my chest, raw and brutal. There was no technique, only intent, precision and unreal speed. And her intent was pure destruction. My barely held up armour shattered on contact. My ribs? I couldn't tell—only that something cracked, something gave way inside me as blood burst from my lips like a detonated dam.

I flew back, crashing into the base of the same tree like a squish. Only one thing saved me from immediate unconsciousness: my telekinesis, still wrapped around my body like invisible strings, softened the blow enough to keep me alive—and barely, just barely—conscious.

I coughed, blinked, and raised my head just in time to see the Chimaera's jaw widen.

She was charging.

A beam of lightning, tightly condensed, was already forming in the back of her throat. The glow intensified. Five meters. Four. Maybe less.

I had no time.

Nowhere to move.

Nowhere to run.

So I did the only thing I could do.

"MANA ZONE: THE BURNING SWORDSMAN."

The words rang in my soul like a war cry. My flames reignited, not in fury, but in necessity. They roared to life around me, wild and radiant, even as the beam tore forward.

Crimson Ultima returned to my grip—not through muscle, but mind.

My left hand was limp, still recovering. But my will wasn't.

Telekinesis yanked the blade back, slamming it into position between me and death. The beam struck, and the world disappeared in light. My vision blurred. My ears rang. The flames did nothing to halt it—only to hold it, to resist long enough for something to change, which didn't happen.

"Shit!" I cursed aloud, pushing back against the oncoming tide.

The pressure was immense. The blast didn't just impact—it pressed, forcing me deeper into the tree. Bark split and wood cracked around my spine until the trunk itself gave out, exploding beneath me as I was sent hurtling downward once more.

But this time I didn't crash.

I landed.

Telekinesis wrapped tightly around my limbs, around my body, steadying my fall mid-air as I slammed into the swampy ground with a few meters to spare between myself and that tree, with control, not chaos. Crimson Ultima burned in my hand, still glowing, but not alone.

Between the flames and my skin, a thin layer of bluish mana shimmered like armour—my new method of survival.

A telekinetic membrane.

A second skin.

The flames of the Burning Swordsman burned hot enough to melt steel, and prolonged usage meant searing one's own flesh away with every second. But this—this barrier, my own design, was just thick enough to delay the self-destruction.

Just enough to keep me burning… without being burned.

For now.

The Chimaera conjured lightning again, arcs crackling to life around her like living serpents. Each one screamed with violent intent, pulsing with a chaotic mana presence so intense it sent an immediate ripple through my own senses. Crimson Ultima responded in kind. The flames flared violently, spiralling around the blade as if aware of the threat, as if hungry to clash again.

My grip tightened.

The moment I felt the readiness in my limbs, I slashed upward diagonally across the space between us, releasing a wave of fire. A slash wide enough to cut through the sky itself, easily spanning ten… no, twelve meters across. The flame roared through the air, seeking her.

But she had already acted.

The arcs of lightning she released struck first, blisteringly fast—some crashing directly into my flame slash, neutralising it with explosive precision. Mana and heat collided midair, detonation after detonation splitting the battlefield.

The others?

They didn't care about my spell.

They hunted me.

I moved fast—first with a sharp step backwards, then a desperate backflip, pushed not by style but necessity. My balance faltered midair, my survival instincts screaming at me louder than my pride. I let go of Crimson Ultima, abandoning my only weapon, just to stay alive.

The weapon clattered to the ground. I didn't have the luxury to mourn it.

Through the settling smoke and haze of discharged mana, I saw her.

The Chimaera lunged—fast, low, brutal.

She descended the same way I had attacked her during the early moments of our battle. But unlike her then, I wasn't unprepared. I wasn't panicking.

I was waiting.

The instant her form broke through the mist, diving down from the high branch she had launched herself off, I reached for my weapon—not with my hands, but with my mind.

Telekinesis.

Crimson Ultima trembled, then launched off the earth in the same way these wind mages take off, straight upwards with unreal pace, my will wrapping around its hilt with exact precision. As the Chimaera fell toward me, mid-descent, her lower belly aligned directly above it.

Perfect.

With all the strength I could muster—mental, physical, magical—I slammed the blade upward, defying gravity itself.

Crimson Ultima shot skyward like a burning spear, its flaming tip aimed straight at the softest point of her underside.

Not a slash this time.

Not a spell.

A single, decisive thrust.

One meant to end her.