The Greatest Fight [progression cultivation isekai]

As One

Roa's screams echoed in the vastness of the plaza, as his voice began to gurgle. His lungs filled with blood. His bones shattered further with each blow. Then, the disturbing grunts finally went silent, when some of the people nearby began to slow down, staring at the gruesome scene.

"Hey—that's the guy who crashed that rich folks' party on the lake," said one, tapping on the other's shoulder.

"He helped free my friend from the Hole," another pointed, as she placed her hand on her mouth. Her eyes filled with horror.

People began to gather as they recognized him—the one who lit the final spark against their oppressors. The spark they had waited for so long. Mr. Briteside looked around and shouted with a tone of disgust.

"I am sick and tired of dealing with you, filth. Run away, if you know what's good for you—vermin."

"Get off of him, asshole. You—you got a problem with him—you got a problem with us," said someone with a trembling voice.

"And what are you going to do about it? You are bunch of nobodies," roared the Shadow, stomping on the boy once more. Roa's eyes stayed shut. The salt from a dried tear streaked across his face.

The enemy was powerful—monumentally greater in strength than anyone present. However, the people surrounding them had now grown from a few—to many, and the sight of the hero's bloody, and unconscious body, was enough to give them the courage they needed.

"We may be nobodies—but there's hundreds of us, and only one of you," shouted someone in the crowd.

"Don't let him die! Fight as one!" screamed another.

"Together!"

"As One!"

Someone swung a bat—another launched a bottle. One more rushed him from behind, and before the enemy could react, the people furiously fell upon him like a raging torrent, swarming the Shadow. They were many and their eyes were filled with rage. The enemy found himself alone, in the middle of a sea of anger. Each person there had felt the burn in their hearts from years of suffering. Some pulled on his cloak, others punched, kicked and slammed whatever they could on him, trying to inflict as much pain as they could.

"Get off of me, you insects! Don't you dare touch me. Know your place—know your damn place," shouted Mr. Briteside.

Roa opened his eyes as he felt himself getting lifted off of the ground. Many hands and arms reached down to him like a waterfall covering the sky, grabbing him—raising him, as if out of the grave. His head, limp and tilted back, eventually straightened, as many hands and fingers hugged his skull like a laurel crown. His feet met the ground, planting themselves onto the pavement. He coughed blood unto the floor, but did not feel pain in that moment.

He saw the brave people of that forsaken city fight against the much more powerful enemy, who, exhausted from his fight with him, struggled to shrug them off of himself. The hero's heart began to burn. Like the core of the Sun that blesses the Sacred Mother Earth—his heart began to burn. He raised his bruised hand, his eyebrows furrowed, and his fierce gaze locked onto his opponent. He felt a surge of energy rush through his whole body. A feeling that straddled between numbness and euphoria. He clenched his fist so tight that it began to shake, vibrating more and more, until it began to blind everyone around him with light.

"You are powerless! Powerless," cursed the Shadow, swallowed by the crowd.

Sparks of aura floated from all directions, appearing out of everything and everyone, floating toward and gathering onto the boy's clenched hand like a thousand floating embers. The wide-open eyes of those who stood next to Roa lit up, following the slow, steady steps of the boy, as he moved decisively forth. Their mouths opened as their breaths paused.

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Time seemed to slow down—everyone went quiet, when the Sunflower roared.

"We—are not—POWERLESS!"

The boy unleashed his fist upon the enemy, causing everyone around him to be launched in all directions from the force of the impact. The blow landed square onto the Shadow's face, as the whole plaza disappeared in a blinding light. A thunderous crash echoed in the streets of the city, like a jagged clap of lightning striking the Earth. Briteside was stunned, barely conscious as his hand twitched, frozen on the ground inside of a small crater. He tried getting up, but struggled to move and regain his balance, collapsing over and over, as if he were barely able to control his body. The boy limped forward until he towered above him.

"This is your last chance, Briteside. I won't ask you again," he said with a calm tone, his eyes opening and closing as he tried to breath past the pain in his chest. "If you don't answer me now—I will shatter your face into a thousand pieces," he promised, as he pointed his hand at the enemy, forming the shape of a gun.

The Sunflower took a deep, gurgling breath, and hoped for the best. He was bluffing. His aura was depleted—and he had no idea how to use the Gunhand Gift. Regardless, he pointed it at his face, and roared as loudly as he could.

"WHERE—IS—SHE?"

The Shadow sat up, trying to regain his senses. His own hand ran down his mask, slipping on the drops of blood that had flown out of Roa's mouth. Feeling sharp edges on the tips of his fingers, his eyes filled with horror. Upon his perfect, pearly-white mask, a crack ran from top to bottom, through his left eye and down to his mouth—his grin permanently transformed. An ugly and deformed grimace now replaced his crescent-moon smile, as the surface was left fractured, chipped and disfigured. His fingers trembled as his breath quivered. The enemy looked around at the crowd ready to tear him apart. He exhaled—slowly and deeply.

"She's not in that world, anymore. The Lord Patriarch—he has her," he revealed.

"Where—at the chokepoint? Where the Basements of the Palace end?"

"No. The Gate is the one who guards the chokepoint at Ardor's Forge. The Gate works for the Lord Patriarch."

"Then where is this damn patriarch?" the Sunflower stuck his Gunhand on Briteside's mask, pushing against it with force.

"The Lord of Lords is at the Tipofthetop. She's with him; but he will never let her go, of this one thing you can trust me. You will never see her again. He will hunt you down for the rest of eternity. He does not forgive, nor does he forget. You do not know him like I do. He always gets what he wants. You will know his cruelty, and it will have no end. You will never know peace. Only death will bring it to you one day."

"I'm not scared. How the hell do I get there?" he pushed on the mask again with his fingers.

"We tortured you for countless years to get that information out of you. You of all people should know."

"The way to the Dreamer? The Lord is there—with Eralay? Why? Why would he bring her there?" Roa said, his eyes narrowing.

Mr. Briteside looked up, laid back down with a thud, and laughed, "just in time..." he said, letting out a sigh.

Enormous auras caught Roa's attention as his eyes scanned the skies. Three large Shadows dropped down from above, striking the boy, sending him flying with ease. They stood between him and his opponent. They were different—these didn't look at all like the others. One was very tall and wore a conical hat, another was wide and muscular, while the third was short and stubby. They were armed to the teeth with futuristic-looking weapons, their auras monstrous in scale, completely eclipsing those of Briteside, the friendly shapeshifter from the yacht, and even Szaszo and his odd friend. None of the Shadows spoke, but their presence made one thing clear—they were there to aid Eralay's kidnapper.

"Took you long enough," Mr. Briteside said as they pulled him up.

"Pathetic," thundered the ominous voice in the sky, "you fail me again..." it said, as thousands of eyes finally closed and disappeared, as if disappointed with the result of the fight.

"This isn't over!" shouted Roa, barely standing.

"You're right. This has just begun..." said the Shadow, his once eerie smile now resembling a look of agony.

"Should we kill him?" asked one of the three.

"No," Briteside answered, sternly, "this one is mine. I want that satisfaction for myself."

His protectors blasted upwards, carrying him away to safety, until they disappeared in the toxic fog of the city.

Roa fell back out of exhaustion, hitting the ground, forcing out a grunt from the impact. The locals started cheering. They won. The enemy was vanquished. They raised the Sunflower up onto their shoulders, carrying him through the streets. Together they defeated the much more organized and powerful enemy. He was in excruciating pain, hanging on within an inch of his life, but the people shouting 'as One,' over and over, managed to steal a smile from him.

However, the crowd, distracted by the celebrations, failed to notice that the boy had suddenly stopped breathing. His tired eyes had finally closed shut.