The city had fallen into a tense, suffocating silence.
Everyone’s gaze locked onto the lone man in golden armor suspended high in the blackened sky.
That armor itself glowed—crafted from pure light element, every joint and plate emitting a tranquil radiance that pushed back the night. In the cameras, he looked less like a man and more like an avenging celestial.
Charles lay broken on the rubble, vision swimming from blood loss. Even so, recognition sparked in his dulling eyes.
Isn’t he...one of them? One of the mysterious ones the Alliance couldn’t trace?
What is he doing here? Didn’t he say that he would go to the other cities?
Far above, Ethan stood with one hand folded calmly behind his back. His gaze never wavered from the eagle, whose wings churned the sky into a cyclone.
This creature was the strongest opponent he had ever faced.
He knew it. If he failed—if even one of those howling energy blasts struck the city below—nothing would remain.
Not even ash.
His heart beat slower. Steadier.
If I can bring my sword intent and Extinction to perfect harmony...I can slay it.
But the risk was absolute.
Any mistake...a single lapse...and he would be vaporized, every molecule obliterated under the eagle’s ten-million-ton force—power equivalent to a nuclear warhead.
He exhaled once, letting all fear fall away.
"Domain."
His voice was soft, almost inaudible over the gale. But the sky answered.
A sphere of crackling thunder spread outward, a shimmering barrier five kilometers wide. The night air snapped with electrical fury. Bolts of lightning descended in ruthless succession—ten lances of raw electricity that speared toward the eagle’s vast form.
KRAKAKOOM—
Each strike burst in blinding arcs across its armored feathers. Though the thunder did little more than numb the beast, it made the monster flinch.
A furious screech tore through the clouds. The eagle’s pupils contracted, and its colossal chest expanded with a massive intake of air.
It fired.
A hurricane-sphere erupted from its beak, a compressing vortex so dense it warped the starlight behind it. The howl of it made the buildings below shudder.
Ethan’s silhouette flickered—vanishing from the eagle’s path.
When he reappeared, he stood opposite the city, ensuring the blast would miss any chance of collateral destruction.
The wind sphere detonated harmlessly in the distant mountains.
Ethan’s golden eyes glinted through the visor of his helm.
He raised one hand.
Fssshhhh—
Thirty radiant motes materialized, spiraling outward like a constellation being born. They became flying knives—elegant, thin as autumn leaves, their edges etched with runes of killing intent.
Each was infused with his sword intent, vibrating with lethal resonance.
In perfect synchrony, he launched them.
The knives sliced through the sky in blinding arcs, leaving golden contrails that lit the darkness.
The eagle’s eyes dilated, every primal instinct screaming of mortal peril.
With a titanic beat of its wings, it unleashed a cyclone.
WHOOOM—
The storm that followed was no mere gust. Every feather was infused with wind element, turning the gale into a weapon multiplied severalfold. The pressure was so intense that Ethan felt his body strain to maintain balance, his boots skidding inches across the sky.
Below, cameras struggled to hold focus as the screen flickered with static.
In that hurricane, all thirty knives were flung aside like sparks in a gale.
The city held its breath.
Ethan hovered still, his breathing steady, though sweat beaded under his armor. This creature was strong—far stronger than anything he’d known.
Yet he refused to waver.
He summoned his knives again. Their runes glowed brighter, and with a twist of his wrist, he pressed his palm forward.
The blades converged, merging into a single, spiraling mass of golden light. A drill—dense enough to distort the air around it—formed at his outstretched hand.
He didn’t hesitate.
With a flick, he launched it forward.
The eagle’s shriek echoed over the city. Its pupils narrowed to pinpoints, and it reared back, feathers bristling.
Another hurricane-sphere formed in its beak, twice the size of the first, layers compressing into a whirling death.
They fired in unison.
The drill and the wind sphere collided.
BOOOOOM—
A shockwave of light and emerald wind swallowed the sky.
Even from the ground, the impact felt like an earthquake in the bones.
The golden drill strained, its runes cracking, struggling to pierce the cyclone. For an instant—just one instant—it seemed to push through.
Then the wind consumed it.
The blast plowed through the drill, weakened but still monstrous, hurtling toward Ethan’s position.
He vanished again—appearing just beyond the blast radius—but even the sidewash of pressure scalded his armor, tearing pieces of light away in molten streams.
His skin beneath blistered.
Pain flared, bright as lightning, but his regeneration surged immediately. Shredded tissue knit back together in seconds.
This...isn’t working.
His mind raced, every calculation flickering like a thousand screens at once.
I need one strike. One true blow. If this drags on and it fires at the city—
Below, thousands watched in helpless awe. Some wept openly, unable to look away. The cameras caught every moment—the unknown warrior in gold defying annihilation with nothing but his will.
Far from the city the three Ashfords seethed in fury. Who was this bastard,ruining thier plans?
Erasmus felt his muscles tense, his hands itching to intervene—to crush this interloper before he could ruin everything. But logic anchored him: if he joined, the Alliance would know an emperor had fought here. Satellites would record everything.
That would be the end of the Ashford line.
So he held back.
Ethan’s thunder domain flared brighter, arcs of violet lightning slamming into the eagle again and again.
The monster shrieked, wings thrashing—but the damage was negligible.
Both sides were growing impatient.
Ethan knew the time had come. He could not allow this contest to drag on another heartbeat.
He raised one hand—and this time, he did not conjure Frostmourne.
That sword was too recognizable.
Instead, a new blade materialized.
The Sword of Destruction.
Venuzdonoa.
Black as the void, etched with runes that seemed to swallow the very concept of existence. A weapon not of this world, but something deeper—something ancient and terrible.
He gripped its hilt.
Then—he closed his eyes.
Sword intent.
Power thrummed through his arm, fusing with the sword.
Absolute speed.
The world seemed to slow—the hurricane became a crawl, every feather and gust laid bare before his perception.
Extinction.
A cataclysmic resonance awakened in the core of the blade. A vibration so pure it erased all things it touched.
Ethan opened his eyes—golden, unshakable.
He swung.
FWOOOOOM—
The darkness split.
A wave of annihilation burst forth, expanding into a crescent of obsidian light streaked with white veins of extinction.
This attack had the power of 20 million tons. This was at the realm of emperor.
Even Ethan hadn’t realized the technique’s true power. If he had...he would have ended this long ago.
The eagle’s instincts detonated into pure terror.
It tried to flee. Its wings beat the air so fast the sky itself screamed.
But the attack was faster.
It struck.
SHRAAAAANG—
The eagle’s colossal form froze—flesh and bone sheared clean in a single line of absolute destruction.
For a heartbeat, silence reigned.
Then its body split apart, cleaved perfectly down the center.
Twin halves plummeted toward the city outskirts, lifeless.
Ethan floated, shoulders rising and falling with each heavy breath.
His armor flickered with fading light. Smoke rose from his gauntlets.
But he remained upright.
He scanned the city in a single sweep of spirit sense. Countless civilians injured. Charles near death. Fires spreading through collapsed districts.
A sigh of quiet relief passed his lips.
It was over.
A roar rose from below—ragged cheers breaking free from throats raw with fear.
The unknown warrior had triumphed.
Charles felt his broken lungs struggling for air. A smile cracked across his bloodied lips.
Even if I die now...I’ll have no regrets.
Ethan lifted his gaze to the stars—then slowly lowered his hand.
Light gathered at his fingertip.
Whum—
An endless stream of radiant energy poured forth, arcing across the sky in countless threads. Like golden rain, it descended over every street, every ruin, every wounded people.
People gasped in wonder.
Was this a god?
The first drops struck skin—burns closed, bones reset, bleeding stopped. Children wept as their parents’ wounds disappeared in shimmering waves.
Low-level martial artists healed in moments.
Even Charles felt the fatal damage inside his chest unraveling. Shattered organs knit whole again, and color returned to his face.
His eyes brimmed with questions, but there were no answers.
Above, the three Ashfords watched in grim silence. Erasmus clenched his jaw.
"This...will not end here."
Nolan was grinding his teeth so hard blood dripped down his chin.
Bastard.
I won’t let you walk away.
He gazed down at the healed, bewildered city. Then, without a word, he turned, the Sword of Destruction dissolving in his grasp.
Light swallowed his figure.
And as the golden glow faded, he vanished into the night, leaving only awe and salvation behind.
--