The Greatest Fight [progression cultivation isekai]

Tar Lake

The four Jumpers flew at great speed, skimming just above the dark waters. Roa caught sight of his own silhouette on the surface, illuminated by the moon's glow—there was still far too much light. The wind blew through his white hair, his face set with unwavering determination.

"Please," murmured the boy, closing his eyes, "great—most immense Universe, in all of your manifestations—please, we need your help now."

A loud thunder rolled through the dark heavens above as lightning flashed, the winds shifted, and the storm began to stir. The moon's glow vanished along with the lights of the ball, dimming behind the thick curtain of rain. Then, a lone spotlight cut through the gale, sweeping the darkness in search.

"A chopper! Time for a dip," Theya's body tilted down.

Her feet surfed the top of the dark waves at high velocity, her bathrobe flapping wildly in the wind, revealing a yellow bathing suit. She disappeared underneath, as the momentum died out. The others followed behind, Rosso and Roa smashing less gracefully unto the surface, as the magical iron dove in at full force. The murky, polluted waters, lit up, as the spotlight pointed down at them. They could hear the faint pulsing beat of the helicopter's blades, as they floated in the cold darkness. When complete silence finally returned, they emerged, catching their breaths.

"I thought you knew how to control the damn thing. You know, water feels like concrete when you slam into it like that?" complained Rosso, cracking his neck.

"It's 11:45. We're running out of time. Let's continue underwater, coming up only for air. The sky is filled with Shadows. I can feel them moving around, even though my eyes can't see them in the rain," Roa turned the magical item back on, yanking his friend who gasped for air before getting submerged again.

They were blind under the waves, but at least they were hidden from the invisible gaze of the enemy. After some time, a hand reached out, forcefully grabbing the boy on the shoulder. Vesper's head popped out; his white beard stained black.

"That one there. That's where they're keeping my granddaughter," he said, pointing to a massive, white yacht. They had made it past the flotilla—they were nearly there.

The Sunflower glanced back at the sea battle between the fishermen and the soldiers, speculating that it was coming to a conclusion; most of the revolutionaries would have been overwhelmed, and taken into custody by now. The tanker, however, pushed forward still, smashing the smaller boats out of the way, and sinking a few in the process.

Boom!

An enormous fireball lit up the lake, causing the Jumpers to jolt their heads in its direction. A sudden burst of air followed the blast, causing the waves to grow taller, and the yacht to wobble.

"There goes the oil tanker," Theya chuckled, as bubbles came out from her semi-submerged mouth.

The authorities mobilized in the distance, clustering around the explosion.

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"Look—in the sky. Do you see them?" pointed Vesper towards some faint movement. "The Shadows are moving from their locations. They realized that the local defenses are in trouble and are moving in to help."

"That's our signal. Let's go, now that their attention is on the boats," the Sunflower commanded, as the merry crowd on the yacht began to clap.

As soon as the heroes reached the side of the ship, Roa felt the energy shift completely. The screams from the revolt went silent, too far away to be heard from here. Instead, he noticed the excited voices of the people above, as if they were celebrating the detonation.

"It looks like we'll have dinner and a show tonight, honey," the boy heard a woman say, as servants rushed with drinks, chefs prepared delicacies, and musicians played soft music.

It was good to be rich—so good that the world around them seemed to simply—not exist. There was no need to deal with misery, pollution, or the daily, incessant struggle for survival. Those were just—distant details, belonging to someone else, somewhere else. Matters that were much too harsh, detached, and uncomfortable to deal with—much easier and more interesting was the glittering jewelry and colorful dresses, the wine glasses clanking, and the gossip.

"What blissful, privileged—ignorance," murmured the boy as he listened.

Underwater, Theya's fingers touched the bottom of the yacht. Her aura, coming out of her index finger like a blow torch, cut a hole through the metal, as the others kept watch with their heads sticking out on the surface. They were in. Water rushed inside the tight opening, as they crawled into the bowels of the ship. The engine room hummed with the constant roar of machinery, its air thick with the scent of grease and exhaust, while the heat pressed down, and the bright lights revealed snaking pipes, and grimy gauges. Incapacitating several mechanics, they snuck up the stairs, their feet tapping softly onto each metal step.

"Do not trust anyone. The Shadows know how to change their appearances," whispered the old teacher.

"11:51," Rosso pointed at his watch with a worried look. "Which way, old man?"

The ugly, loud surroundings changed completely as soon as they crossed into a hallway, giving way to a warm, clean, and luxurious setting. Dim lights, lush carpets, art and a faint smell of perfume lingered in the air. Vesper led them through the tight hall, until his eyes met those of a man dressed in a black suit. The stranger leapt towards them, moving at inhuman speed, forcing a gasp out of the Jumpers as it took all of them on at once.

"He's a Shadow!" Vesper shouted, blocking several blows while using the tight walls to spring acrobatically behind him. "Don't let him get away, or he'll alert the others."

The enemy's body pivoted, throwing a blur of light with the same grace and force as a pitcher's throw.

"Nope!" Theya shouted, leaping forward and smashing it into pieces with her baseball bat.

The four of them swarmed the enemy, and after a long struggle and a final choke, he fell unconscious, revealing his true form. He was massive, his size overwhelming in the cramped, narrow corridors of the ship's bowels.

"Where's the one with the smile?" Roa murmured to himself, a disappointed look on his face, as he stared at the white mask.

"Sweet mother of all truths, they are strong! It took all of us to take a single Shadow down?" Rosso wiped the sweat off his forehead.

Reaching a bustling kitchen, where waiters and chefs shouted food orders and table numbers, Roa peeked through, searching for another way up. His heart sank when he noticed one of the waiters freeze and lock eyes with him.

"There are too many to incapacitate them all without alerting the others," thought the boy, his heart pounding, as he stood with his back pressed against the wall.

When the waiter turned the corner and appeared in front of them, they froze. Before they could make a move, however, the stranger raised a finger to his lips, winked, and gestured for them to follow him away from the chaos. Wary and confused, they decided to follow the suspicious young man into a cramped storage room. All five squeezed into the space, the air thick with the scent of detergent and boxes. A mop, leaning against the wall clattered to the floor as Rosso's foot knocked it, startling the others.

"Sunflower—could it really be you?" the waiter said softly, causing the boy's eyes to open wide, and his heart to beat faster.