They clashed at close quarters—the sea wind drummed, the surf kept time. That day, the hot-blooded Dragon-Slayer lost. And yet they still called him a prodigy—no one laughed. Vincent Walker was already at the peak of the Mythical Tier, his power rolling like rivers meeting the sea, while Dragon-Slayer was still on the climb: solid foundation, not quite seasoned. To escape intact from under the palm of a Mythical Tier peak was reason enough to remember his name.Now the memory flashed like lightning across his eyes. Dragon-Slayer’s expression shifted, and under it calm settled. All these years he had advanced—and so had Vincent Walker. Taking him down would still be hard. But he had Anthony at his back. That fact steadied him, kept him from tipping into blind rage.Soon enough, he went straight in and shouldered the brunt, refusing to give ground. Yield? That word didn’t exist in his bones.Slash!Blade wind rose. The heavy cleaver swept in a wide arc, momentum roaring, splitting the a

They froze. A chill slid over their hearts. In the brief gap, only dust sounded as it rolled. Then, as if he’d been plucked from the air, Anthony appeared on the other flank. His body shivered into a blur—then speared back through their line, fast as a black bolt.They didn’t even react before it felt like a great beast had stomped their chests.Thud-thud-thud!A rapid chain of dull impacts, and several bodies launched as one, flung like torn burlap sacks, pinwheeling before they slammed back down. Vincent Walker’s eyes blew wide. His chest cinched; it felt like a hand had yanked his organs. Pain darkened his vision. He watched his comrades tumble and roll, jerk once, twice—and go still.He was the only one still breathing. He understood—it wasn’t mercy. It was deliberate. Anthony had left him like a branding pin, to make him watch the Solar Kingdom lose here, thoroughly and without dignity.And yes, Anthony wanted him to see. To see it completely.Vincent Walker could feel it—the man

Xavier’s brow twitched; he finally lost his calm. A blot of shadow flowered in his palm—condensed night: the Fiends’ essence. Fainter now, markedly so. This bastard is this hard to kill… Irritation crawled under his skin. He hadn’t expected Anthony not only to weather the Fiends’ heavy blows, but to throw their vital flow into disorder.Even so, Xavier believed that time would favor him. The undead knew no fatigue; the caster only had to stand afar and steer, and sooner or later the living would be ground down. Then a new thought cut in; cold light flashed in his eyes. Why delay? I have a trump card. End it.He flipped his hand, and a dark token rose into his palm. It was black iron in shape, its edges carved with crooked sigils, cold enough to bite. Faced with a formidable foe, he could borrow the power sealed within to execute the enemy. The price was steep—draining essence, vigor, and spirit. And headhunters, being of the shade, could least afford those losses. Worse, the Iron-Pupp

The shadow on the Dragon-Slayer’s face suddenly cleared; a thin curve lifted his mouth, like a hunter finally greeting the perfect wind. Anthony slowly raised both arms; with each rise of his chest, vast energy flooded toward his palms like a tide. Air churned; his hems bellied with no breeze. His gaze held steady, like a man opening his arms to an oncoming storm.Since we’re here—since we’ve come this far—then we gamble once.In the next instant, the air rose like a suddenly heaved tide, curling in from all sides. Anthony spread his arms and stepped forward, and the power inside him surged, sweeping upward to braid with the Dragon-Slayer’s cold, keen edge in midair—two rivers of different colors converging beneath the sky. At the moment of contact, the dust around them compressed into an invisible ring that raced outward, rasping across rubble and cheeks alike, cold enough to bite.A shaft of blinding gold broke from Anthony’s body, lightning-veins unfurling from his palms, racing al

Boom!His fist swept past like a thunderhead crashing to earth. A shockwave detonated outward from the point of impact, with stone chips and blood flung up in layered bursts. A powerhouse of the Solar Kingdom didn’t even manage to lift a hand before the force punched a hole through his chest. His body folded backwards, eyes still open as he hit the ground. Then a second. A third. Bodies thudded down as if pierced by an invisible blade.From all directions, the survivors gave low, ragged roars—last rage dragged up from weakness. They bellowed, they howled, their voices cracking like throats ground on sand. The roar of self-detonations and the slash of killing overlapped; plumes of blood-flame burst in the air, hot and metallic.Despair spread. Someone clenched a blade—then loosened their grip in the next instant, as if suddenly realizing all struggle only prolonged the time until death. Since Anthony had said he would show no mercy, there would be no luck to be had. His words were a co