Chapter 260: Destroy The Cursed (76)
Chapter 260
In another part of the battlefield, Ronan’s purple eyes burned with barely restrained fury as he locked gazes with Magus.
There was no doubt anymore.
He was the one, the Dark Emissary. The same monster who had nearly ended Aiden’s life back in Maurina.
Ronan had learned about that fight, burned it into his mind. He’d planned for this moment. But right now? He was battered, bruised, health already scraping the bottom. His body screamed at him to collapse.
Didn’t matter.
He could still fight. He had to fight.
If Aiden’s warnings were true, if this thing was really as powerful as described then leaving him alive wasn’t an option. This wasn’t just a duel. This was a disaster waiting to happen.
Magus stared back. No malice. No rage. If anything, there was... pity in his eyes.
"You’re too weak. Too battered to put up any real fight against me," Magus said. His voice carried no mockery, no taunt. Just certainty.
Ronan scoffed, blades crossing in front of him. "We’ll see about that."
He kicked off the ground... then he vanished.
In his place, only a silver afterimage shimmered.
Magus’s brow rose. A flick of his finger, and lightning cracked from the heavens, spearing the spot where Ronan reappeared.
The strike was instant, merciless.
Ronan’s eyes widened for half a breath but that was all. He caught himself midair, swords flashing down in a brutal arc.
The twin blades carved through the lightning itself, shattering it before the blast sent him hurtling back down.
He slammed into the ground with a thunderous crash, dirt and stone exploding outward.
Groaning, Ronan forced himself upright. His arms trembled, lungs heaving. Just from that single exchange, it was clear.
The Dark Emissary wasn’t strong. He was monstrous.
All the more reason to push harder. To bleed, to burn, to wring out every last shred of power left in his body.
Onslaught still burned within him. He wasn’t close to done.
Magus raised a brow, mildly surprised. He’d expected that lightning bolt to obliterate both swords and the man holding them. The fact Ronan survived... no, the fact he cut through it meant he wasn’t ordinary. He was one of the strong ones.
Magus lifted a finger skyward.
Above, a small orb of fire shimmered into existence. Then it grew. And grew. And grew.
Until it swelled into a miniature sun, its heat cracking the air, warping the battlefield.
Ronan’s expression darkened. If that thing hit, it wouldn’t just burn him. It would scorch the island, kill everyone in range.
He bent low, gathering what little energy he had left, pouring it into his blades. His aura flared, sharp and furious.
Then he leapt.
Straight at the descending star.
The fireball fell, a blazing apocalypse.
But Ronan moved like a phantom. His form blurred, flickered, silver needles scattering like shards of light as he slashed across the massive sphere. With Onslaught raging, speed and strength twisted into something unreal.
Strike after strike. Corner to corner. His blades carved through the flames, tearing the core apart piece by piece.
The blazing sun shattered.
Its remains rained down... not in destruction, but in harmless flakes of fire drifting through the sky.
Ronan landed hard, chest heaving. His body screamed, his energy burned thin, dwindling, draining fast. He’d barely managed to pull off that last move, and now Onslaught ticked away, only minutes left before the skill collapsed.
But that wasn’t the worst of it.
His reserves were almost dry.
If he was going to kill Magus, it had to be now. One strike. One clean cut to the neck. No second chances.
He breathed in. He breathed out. Then he kicked off the ground, closing the distance in a silver blur.
Magus raised a single finger.
A bead of fire formed no bigger than a marble compressing tighter and tighter. The air warped, shuddered around it, the sheer density of energy twisting reality. That thing could erase him with one shot.
And that was fine.
Because Ronan was aiming to do the exact same thing. Whoever landed first lived. Whoever missed died.
The beam fired.
It tore through Ronan’s figure only for the body to vanish, replaced by a silver needle.
"Vibrant Slash!"
Ronan’s voice thundered as his blade descended, edge flashing for Magus’s throat. It was perfect. A clean kill. Just one more inch....
His lips curled into the faintest smile. Victory.
Then it hit him.
A sensation. Wrong. Heavy. Crushing.
His blade halted mid-swing, his body frozen in place. Not weakness. Not hesitation. Something else.
A storm.
It felt like he’d been thrown into a raging whirlwind, his limbs locked, his energy scattered. His brain sparked and short-circuited as the realization snapped in.
The Dark Emissary controlled the five elements. How could he forget?
Wind.
He was trapped in a storm of it.
Magus’s calm, crimson eyes locked onto his. "Stop resisting. Die already. If you do... you’ll save millions from greater pain."
Another fire beam charged at Magus’s fingertip. His tone never shifted. No mockery, no rage. Just inevitability. "Stop resisting. Make it easier for us both."
The beam fired.
Ronan vanished again.
He reappeared right behind Magus, sword already slashing down. "Why don’t you stop resisting..." his voice was a growl, "....and die already!"
The strike howled through the air....
....but it never hit.
Lightning exploded across Magus’s body. He vanished, leaving only thunder in his wake. Ronan’s blade ripped through empty air.
And then pain.
Searing, endless pain.
Several fire beams tore through him at once, through his chest, stomach, arms, legs. His eyes rolled back as his body was flung to the ground with a brutal crash.
The earth split. Blood spilled. His battered form twitched in the crater, body mangled, riddled with smoking wounds.
Above, Magus hovered, looking down with something like regret. Complicated emotions clouded his face. "Such a waste. Such a talented young man..."
His voice softened, almost distant. "You remind me of my brother. If I had a choice, I wouldn’t kill you. But heroes... heroes are a plague. They must die for the Project to succeed. All of them."
He turned, ready to leave.
Then he froze.
His eyes narrowed.
Movement.
From the crater.
He had expected nothing but silence, stillness and death. But instead... Ronan rose.
Blood dripped from him in rivers. His steps were uneven, staggering. His body should’ve been broken beyond repair.
And yet...
He stood.
His eyes were blank. Hollow. No pain. No life.
As if he’d already died.
As if only a corpse remained.
A corpse that refused to stay down.
"Why.... why won’t you just stay dead already? Resisting is meaningless! Don’t you see that?" Magus’ irritation finally cracked through his calm voice.
Ronan only let a small, broken smile tug at his lips, both blades trembling in front of him.
"You’re gravely mistaken... maybe too mistaken if you think I’ll just give up. I still have a lot of people to kill. And right now, I’m starting with you."
Magus looked at him like he’d lost his mind. With the gap in power, the young human should’ve realized there was no chance. Why keep struggling? Why cling to delusion?
Ronan’s blades were chipped, his energy nearly drained, the Onslaught skill timer bleeding down to its final seconds. Soon, he would be weaker than he had ever been in his life. But he had to kill Magus before that. He had to.
He leapt back into the fray, what followed wasn’t a fight. It was a one-sided slaughter.
Magus was a storm of elements, a calamity wrapped in flesh. Fire, lightning, earth, wind, water, they all bent to his will.
He was speed, he was force, he was devastation incarnate. Even with Onslaught raging, Ronan was crushed under the weight of it. Blades ringing, body breaking.
The ground shook violently as Ronan crashed for the fourth time, blood spraying as the notification blinked across his fading vision:
[Fatal injury sustained: -50 HP]
[HP: 30/300]
His body trembled. Bones screamed. Every nerve dragged him closer to death’s door.
Then another notification:
[Onslaught skill has ended.]
Another line followed, but Ronan didn’t even look at it. His gaze locked on his energy bar, they were empty. He was spent.
Magus floated above, a halo of fireballs circling him, each one pulsing with raw annihilation.
Ronan tried to force his battered body up. He made it halfway before his knees gave and he crashed back down. Blood poured from his lips.
Magus frowned. "Why are you still resisting? Your death will lead to the salvation of countless others. Leave your life for the greater good. I’ll respect that."
The fireballs descended all at once, a rain of doom crashing down.
Ronan looked up at them, a weak, broken smile stretching across his face.
"...Is this it? After all that?"
His teeth clenched as the inferno swallowed him whole.
The world erupted. Explosions tore through the air. Black smoke surged skyward.
Magus stared into the fading smoke, his gaze distant. He didn’t want this. But it was the only way. He landed softly, closed his eyes, and gave the young warrior his final respect... even if he was the one who had killed him.
But then....
A shift in the air.
A change in the atmosphere.
Magus’ eyes snapped open.
To be continued...
AUTHOR’S NOTE
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– Ultra