That was the only thing running through Dirga’s mind.
This wasn’t like before. This wasn’t the Cerberus he faced, or even Eidomos’s soul shard.
This was worse. Real. Physical. Raw.
Oru’Zek stood like a living disaster — three horns, glowing red eyes, his white hair streaked with crimson blood from his own kin.
The Oni’s body had swollen after consuming Snaggra. Muscles bulged beneath now-tattered armor. Black veins pulsed with stolen strength.
A monstrous fusion of brute force and feral instinct.
Dirga’s mind raced even as his body prepared for battle.
This was the goblin system of power — a brutal, primal method.
They evolved by devouring others, stealing strength, flesh, and even soul in the act.
It wasn’t just survival.
It was transcendence through consumption.
Body-based power. Pure and savage.
Interesting, Dirga thought, even while tension crawled up his spine.
It was the opposite of someone like Saelari, the Niphari.
Her kind bent reality using runes and arcane scripts, drawing energy from the Multiverse itself — refined, calculated magic-based power.
And then... there was Dirga.
Caught somewhere between.
A human who fused conceptual soul energy with gravity and telekinesis, pushing both body and spirit to evolve side by side.
Dirga’s breathing calmed.
He told himself that.
But in his gut, he wasn’t so sure.
Oru’Zek smirked and moved — not like a brute, but like a blur.
Dirga raised his arms just in time as Oru’Zek swung his sword like a titan’s bat, a two-handed blade gripped in one arm with terrifying ease.
Dirga vaulted into the sky, narrowly avoiding the swing.
The sword didn’t just miss — it carved a canyon into the ground. Earth split. Trees vaporized. The sheer pressure of the arc crushed everything in its radius.
Dirga’s eyes widened.
That wasn’t just strength... it was devastation.
While airborne, Dirga reacted instantly. The Crimson Core shifted in his grip, flowing like blood into bandage that spiraled around his fists and forearms.
He clenched both hands.
"Let’s test your skull, bastard!"
And then — he dropped.
Using gravity, he slammed down like a meteor, a punch aimed directly at Oru’Zek’s horned head, amplified by both gravitational pull and raw telekinetic force.
The ground cratered beneath the impact. Dust and stones shot outward like shrapnel.
But Oru’Zek didn’t budge.
Dirga’s knuckles throbbed.
The Oni’s neck barely tilted. He stood there, grinning — those glowing red eyes locked onto Dirga without a hint of pain.
Like he didn’t even feel it.
"...Damn," Dirga muttered, breath catching.
Oru’Zek tilted his head, almost amused.
Then his grin widened, showing sharp, bestial teeth.
Dirga jumped back, landing in a crouch. His fists shook slightly.
This body... it’s beyond monster-level.
A fortress of meat, bone, and demonic force.
And Oru’Zek was only getting started.
The Oni surged forward again — two massive blades cleaving toward Dirga in a devastating X-cross.
Dirga rolled low, feeling the wind pressure shear past his back like a razor.
He needed a plan. A real one.
Oru’Zek wasn’t just strong.
A predator in the body of a beast.
The Oni was on him, relentless — refusing to give Dirga even a breath.
Without warning, Oru’Zek hurled one of his swords — not like a warrior, but like a javelin aimed straight at Dirga’s heart.
Dirga twisted left — the blade screamed past his cheek, splitting the air like a lightning bolt.
Oru’Zek was already there, mid-swing. A crushing overhead slash.
Dirga couldn’t dodge.
The Crimson Core snapped into shield form just in time.
Metal screamed against evolving mass. Sparks exploded.
Dirga ground his teeth, letting the force ride through him. Then — he planted one foot, swept Oru’Zek’s legs, and used gravity to shift the Oni’s center of mass.
Oru’Zek staggered — footing lost.
Dirga took the chance.
Launched backward — then grabbed the sword Oru’Zek had thrown earlier.
It felt like lifting a car.
His muscles bulged, veins flexed, just holding it steady.
Across from him, Oru’Zek snarled — already recovered.
He raised his remaining blade. A red aura began to swirl, not subtle this time — but thick and raging.
And he charged again.
Dirga dropped the heavy sword — telekinesis taking over.
The Crimson Core morphed into bandages, wrapping his forearms tight.
Dirga deflected, blade against blade.
And then — a fist to the gut.
The blow echoed, ribs creaking.
Oru’Zek grunted, armor cracking, bruises beginning to bloom under that crimson skin.
But neither of them was slowing down.
Steel rang. Blows traded. Blood flew.
Both bore cuts now — scratches, bruises, exhaustion dripping in their sweat.
They looked into each other’s eyes.
Both of them... smiled.
Oru’Zek raised his sword high behind him, both hands on the hilt. His aura condensed like a supernova ready to burst.
The weapon grew — not in metal, but in force, the red aura crackling around it like a storm.
His hair flared — glowing red at the tips. His eyes blazed.
"Two-Handed Sword Style: RED FANG!"
His voice cracked the ground.
Dirga took stance. The bandages extended, not just around his arms — but his legs too.
A lesson from Eidomos.
He remembered the recoil when he failed to anchor his power. Not again.
He needed one clean strike. A punch with everything — mass, speed, force, and gravity.
"Punch Style: COLLAPSING ONE POINT."
The floating sword, still wrapped in his telekinetic grasp — spun like a drill, whirring with deadly velocity.
He launched it first.
And then — he launched himself.
The sword nicked Oru’Zek’s arm mid-air — a burst of thick black blood, flaring with heat — but the Oni didn’t slow.
And neither did Dirga.
They closed the gap in a heartbeat, two forces bound to collide.
A punch powered by gravity, telekinesis, and the raw will to win—
A sword backed by bloodline rage and devoured strength—
The world would break.
Meanwhile... Saelari, Theryn and kaela
Above the trees, three shadows glided through the air — fast, nearly silent.
Saelari’s hands pulsed with runes, her focus tight. The floating spell held all three of them aloft, drifting just above the forest floor.
But her eyes kept flicking back.
Back toward the flashes of red light. Toward the sound of thunderclaps and war roars echoing in the distance.
"W-We shouldn’t have left him!" she said, voice tight, heart pounding. "Dirga’s strong, but he’s still—he’s—he’s fighting that thing alone!"
"And we’d be dead weight if we stayed," Kaela cut in — voice unusually steady.
Saelari blinked, surprised.
Kaela’s eyes — those glowing molten gold irises — were unwavering, locked on the horizon.
"He’s more than you think."
She said it like a fact, not hope.
For a flicker of a second, her eyes shimmered again — a second, inner ring of gold sparking like a hidden sun.
The Godsym, the mark of her bloodline.
Kaela Myrrh, hidden princess of a forgotten human kingdom, bearer of the divine trait known as God’s Eye — could see it.
The power raging inside Dirga.
And the monsters he fought.
And even now, she believed.
"Trust him," Kaela whispered. "He’s going to make it."
Theryn, silent all this time, suddenly spoke.
"We can’t slow down. Goblins are still tracking us."
A dark silhouette pierced the dusky horizon.
A towering structure half-eaten by time — the Devil’s Castle.
"There," Theryn said. "That’s our next ground."
Saelari grit her teeth. Her runes pulsed faster. "Then we fly."
And they soared forward — three sparks beneath the watching eye of night.