Leon's roar echoed across the battlefield, rising above the crackle of fire and the whistling wind. It wasn't just fury—it was a call to arms.
The members of Eldorin, veterans of countless battles, instinctively rallied behind him, forming a tight formation with weapons drawn and eyes locked on the threat. But the man before them—the Apostle—was utterly unfazed.
He let out a low chuckle, resting his corrupted arm lazily across his shoulder like a cloak. His green eyes gleamed with amusement as he eyed the gathered warriors.
"Such drama," he said with a grin. "You stormed into my home, destroyed my things… and now you look offended? Honestly, who's the real villain here?"
His voice was velvet-laced mockery, each word deliberately meant to provoke.
Leon's mind raced. He had to gauge the Apostle's power, weigh their options, and coordinate their strike. But before he could speak a word, a motion blur shot forward.
Her spell ignited with chilling fury—an arctic storm howled to life around her. A blizzard erupted from her outstretched hand, cold enough to freeze bone mid-beat. Jagged spears of ice and titanic glaciers hurtled toward the Apostle with merciless precision, the fury of Niflheim itself unleashed.
Leon raised a hand to stop her, but it was already too late—and even if he had, Yeon was never one to be restrained when her blood ran cold with purpose.
He clenched his jaw and watched, hoping against hope that her devastating magic would land a blow. It didn't. The Apostle slipped between the ice projectiles with uncanny grace, flipping over a glacier like a playground structure. He landed with a flourish, smiling all the while.
"Impressive," he drawled, "but still… a little sloppy."
Then, without warning, he thrust his demonised fist forward. The air convulsed with raw force—an invisible shockwave exploded from his knuckles, tearing across the desert like a divine hurricane.
Sand flew. The ground cracked. Entire dunes disintegrated under the pressure.
Yeon barely had time to conjure a shield of enchanted ice, thick as a fortress wall. It shattered on impact. The blast surged forward—but before it could strike her, a golden barrier flared between her and the force.
Flydian stood firm, shield braced, the full brunt of the Apostle's strike crashing into him like a mountain collapsing. The impact rattled the desert. Though he stood his ground, the knight's armour was chipped and dulled, streaked with grime. His body trembled under the strain, boots buried deep into the sand. But still, he did not fall.
"Don't be impulsive," Flydian snorted in a low growl. "We can't be hasty. This is a monster on par with the Solaris Commanders. If you lose your head, you'll only put us in danger."
Yeon spat a mouthful of sand and got to her feet.
"Impressive! You managed to withstand my fist! It has been a while since someone remained standing even after receiving that fist of mine."
"Heh, don't joke around… You weren't even trying."
Flydian gritted his teeth, a curse slipping through as he raised his battered shield again. His arms ached, muscles trembling from the sheer force of the Apostle's blow, but he stood tall—unyielding. Pain was a constant companion on the battlefield, and he had long learned to ignore it.
Across from him, the Apostle tilted his head with casual amusement. Not a single bead of sweat marred his brow; no laboured breath escaped his lips. He looked as relaxed as a noble at a gala. With a lazy grin, he extended his corrupted arm toward Flydian, fingers crackling with barely restrained demonic energy.
"You could tell? Well, that's a Solaris Golden Dragon Order member for you. Each one of you are monsters that defy the boundaries of humanity."
"I doubt it," the Apostle shook his head. "But I know you, Flydian the Unyielding." His venomous eyes gleamed in a sinister light, like a snake eager to devour its prey.
"As much as I would like to test the limits of your famous, unyielding body… There's a much bigger fish to fry."
The man's cloak snapped in the wind as he touched down on the scorched earth, landing a dozen meters from Leon with the grace of a predator.
From this distance, Leon finally got a proper look at the being who had struck him down so effortlessly. He was shirtless, his sculpted frame a living testament to both raw power and unnatural perfection—broad shoulders, carved musculature, and not a single ounce of excess.
A flowing black cape draped over his back was the only concession to modesty, billowing like wings in the desert breeze. He looked like a statue of a forgotten god come to life—his features sharp and infuriatingly handsome, with piercing green eyes that held a cold, amused malice.
Eyes that didn't just look at you, but through you—like they already knew how the fight would end. His grey hair fell in deliberate disarray, casting an ethereal air over him that made it hard to tell if he was even human anymore. The rıghtful source is novᴇlfire.net
And yet… he wasn't radiating any mana.
No pressure. No aura. Nothing but presence—and it was suffocating.
Leon's chest tightened.
It was like staring down Amon himself.
"Pleasure to meet you, Hero! I've been wondering when you might show up?" The grey-haired Adonis laughed with hypnotic glee, as if trying to suck everyone around him into the vortex of his charm.
"So, did you like the welcome gift I prepared for you?"
"... you sacrificed your comrades… just to welcome me?"
"Oh? Did it look like that to you? Ah, you feel compassion even for the wretched souls of my servants, huh? How hero-like!"
The Apostle continued to laugh, but as his howls slowed, it became apparent… the man didn't like Leon's words.
"How boring," the Apostle spat. "I wonder if that brat Amon is the same. I certainly hope not."
Leon narrowed his eyes and didn't breathe a word. Fortunately, he had backup.
"Name yourself, Apostle!"
Flydian roared while stamping his feet on the ground.
"Ahhh, where are my manners? My name is Samael, but you can call me Sammy! Wait, is that too friendly? Then call me Sir Samael! Either way, it's fine~"
The members of Eldorin didn't know what to make of the Apostle's thearetics, their heads throbbing with caution. Their heartbeats continued to accelerate as they sensed the Apostle's movements turning erratic and they braced themselves for battle.
"As you guessed… I'm an Apostle! I preach the Gospel of Chaos! Nice to meet you! And…"
Samael laughed as he moved, a wild, erratic sound that echoed like broken windchimes in a storm. The way he twisted and swayed made him resemble a deranged jester—unpredictable, unhinged, and dangerously playful.
His laughter wasn't just noise but a distraction, a mask for the storm brewing behind those maddened green eyes.
Then, in the blink of an eye, the desert shimmered.
The moment their focus slipped—even for a heartbeat—Samael vanished from the dunes.
And reappeared with terrifying speed, his fist inches from Leon's face.
Leon barely had time to react.
With a surge of instinct, he summoned Ascalon, the holy blade streaking through the air like a comet of divine fire. It met Samael's blackened fist in a deafening clash—metal against obsidian flesh. The shockwave tore through the sand, and in the next instant, Leon was launched backward as if struck by an avalanche.
The impact was brutal. He tumbled across the dunes, skidding through dust and grit until his momentum was halted, crashing against a massive, furred barrier. A bear. Or more precisely, a shamanic spirit.
Ines peeked over the bear's shoulder, concern flickering in her eyes as glowing symbols danced around her hands. Her healing magic surged through Leon, knitting torn muscles and soothing bruised flesh with practised ease.
Leon gave her a quick nod of thanks, turning his gaze back toward the figure standing tall across the battlefield.
Samael stood motionless, his obsidian fist still smoking with Ascalon's divine flame remnants. He regarded the lingering embers with a curious expression, as if he hadn't expected to feel anything.
"Well now," he said with a grin while shaking the flames off his fist. "You reacted to that? I was aiming to crush you with one punch. How shocking… Maybe this generation's Hero isn't completely useless after all."
The Apostle chuckled, but before he could make another move, Verso was already airborne—a blur against the sky. With a single motion, a kaleidoscopic burst of radiant power exploded from his hands, and a volley of lasers rained down like divine meteors.
The beams blazed with light and precision, each aimed to pierce, burn, and annihilate.
They struck true—but the result was maddening.
The lasers didn't sear flesh. They bounced. Refracted. It was as if Samael's skin were polished obsidian mirrors, turning light into a joke.
Realising his attack didn't work, Verso shifted forms, transforming into a lance of pure light and launching himself straight at Samael like a living weapon. The desert air cracked with force as the human laser collided with the Apostle's side—an impact strong enough to level fortresses.
But once again… nothing.
Verso rebounded off Samael's body with a blinding pulse, crashing back through the sky in a scatter of sparks.
"How weak," Samael looked disgusted as he sent another punch flying Verso's way, and the blind inverse-warlock was sent flying just like Leon.
"If you were trying to tickle me, you did a great job."
Then his gaze swept over the remaining members of Eldorin, eyes gleaming with thinly veiled disappointment. Yes, they had strength—individually formidable, even impressive by some standards. Perhaps enough to earn praise in the Hyades Republic, or to draw admiration from the Solaris House.
Maybe even enough to catch Amon's attention.
To Samael, they were still unrefined. Still reaching. Still miles away from being worthy of challenging him.
"Come at me, all of you, and... Make this somewhat fun for me… please?"