As Aric Stormrider's deep voice reverberated, his battle intent surged, a primal, savage energy that sent shockwaves through the air.
His hair elongated, flowing behind him in a crimson cascade that seemed almost alive, writhing with the same power that fueled him.
The ground quaked as he reached for the massive broadsword on his back. The moment his grip tightened, the world seemed to pause.
A deafening silence.
He moved.
A streak of red burst forward, the ground beneath him shattering, exploding in a storm of debris.
His speed was unimaginable for his size, his form a crimson blur that tore through the air like a raging beast.
He entered the golden pathway that linked the sectors together, moving at impossible speed.
The wind howled in his wake, and in seconds, he reached the skies above Sector 10, a black silhouette blotting the sun.
A hurricane of power rippled across the battlefield as he unsheathed his massive broadsword, sweeping it to the side.
His crimson eyes locked onto the black-armored constructs rampaging in the city, his bloodlust erupting.
It blanketed the entire sector, so thick that the people of Sector 10 and the blood army abruptly froze.
No hesitation. No warning.
Aric moved.
A streak of red, impossibly fast. He vanished.
He descended on the battlefield like a comet, his massive broadsword sweeping through the black-armored constructs with devastating force.
Slice. Smash. Cleave.
Each movement was precise, bestial. Despite his enormous size, he moved with grace, weaving between the fleeing citizens and cutting down the constructs in a relentless blur of crimson light.
The constructs fell, one after another.
The people of Sector 10 watched, stunned into silence, their terror momentarily forgotten. Not a single structure fell. Not a single civilian was harmed. He was a storm, controlled, devastating, and unstoppable.
The battlefield turned red with shattered constructs and blinding flashes of Aric's blade.
He was everywhere.
In seconds, he had circled the entire sector, his broadsword cleaving through waves of the blood army.
He alone guarded the human domain.
Meanwhile…
As the human domain fought for survival, their apex was fighting a battle of his own.
Atticus's purple eyes flickered rapidly, his form a blur as he clashed with Yorowin. Their weapons met with deafening force, sending sparks flying through the air.
Every strike was faster than the last, their movements barely visible to the eye.
Atticus blurred, his katana slicing through Yorowin's form, splitting him in two, only for Yorowin's figure to liquefy and reappear whole in another spot in a burst of blood.
Atticus's purple eyes sharpened. 'So that's it.'
Just as Ozeroth had advised, he was currently using his spiritual eyes. Although Atticus was still in the first fold of his spirit element, it still revealed the truth he needed.
He had cut down Yorowin multiple times, but no matter how many times he did, the latter simply reformed. It was so insane that Atticus had wanted to call it immortality. But he knew that was absurd.
If their power was so overpowered, then the vampyros race wouldn't have a lifespan, at least not a lifespan that short.
While humans, particularly paragons, had been known to live just over 300 years, most vampyros could live up to 400 or 500 years. But this was mainly because of their blood powers.
The entire situation had been absurd. However, as he gazed with his spiritual eyes, he saw everything.
It was the blood.
'Each drop of his blood contains his life force. If even a single drop remains, he won't die.'
Yorowin had spread drops of his blood all over the battlefield. Because of the chaos, the area was utterly unpredictable, making it easier for his blood to go unnoticed.
But with his spiritual eyes, Atticus saw it, the threads.
They stretched from different parts of the battlefield, each one converging on Yorowin's figure, who had just reformed.
The spiritual eyes revealed the truth of all things, not only that but also their weaknesses. Atticus didn't even need to think to reach his conclusions.
The different locations where the threads streamed from were each tied to Yorowin's life force. And to kill him for good, Atticus had to obliterate every last trace of his blood.
As Atticus reached this conclusion, his mind felt clear.
'Never again.' His eyes flashed with a cold glint.
He hated it, that feeling. He never wanted to feel it again.
The last time he had battled with Blackgate, the latter had escaped. The feeling of letting an enemy escape was infuriating, one he would never feel again.
If anyone dared bare their fangs against him, he would eradicate them from existence.
No matter what.
Atticus's gaze sharpened, his aura shifting.
Then, everything slowed.
The chaos.
The earth-shattering booms echoing from the battles raging around him.
Yorowin's supersonic movements.
Everything slowed to a crawl as Atticus pushed his perception to its full throttle, seeing the world with a clarity he had never experienced before.
The raging battle between the human paragons and grand elders seemed to pause as their heads turned sharply to the side, landing on Atticus.
Somehow, they could feel it. Something was coming.
The world resumed.
Atticus moved.
A streak of speed, his katana flashing like bolts of azure and purple lightning. Each strike of his blade tore through the battlefield, obliterating the scattered droplets of Yorowin's blood.
Slash. Flash. Destroy.
Yorowin's gaze narrowed, his crimson eyes turning to pinpricks. A flicker of awareness lit his expression as fury gave way to realization. He couldn't see Atticus's movements, but he could feel it.
The blood. His blood. It was being destroyed.
'He's destroying them!'
Panic gripped him.
Yorowin tried to move, to act, but it was too late.
Atticus appeared in front of him in a blur of speed. Azure and purple streaks trailed behind him, zigzagging across the battlefield like the chaotic paths of a lightning storm.
His eyes, burning with a cold mix of purple and azure, locked onto Yorowin.
Yorowin's breath froze.
He felt it, the grip of death. Cold. Merciless. Unlike before, there was no escape. His scattered life force, the blood that had kept him reforming, had been destroyed.
This time, it was final.
Yorowin's face twisted. The anger, the pride, the defiance, all of it evaporated in the face of death. All that remained was fear. Utter, soul-wrenching fear.
The battlefield froze.
The human paragons and vampyros elders alike widened their eyes, their gazes locked on Atticus and Yorowin.
Atticus's voice was a whisper, yet it carried like thunder.
"Endless Blade."
His form blurred.
No afterimages. No hesitation. Only speed.
His hands moved faster than the eye could follow, unleashing an unending torrent of slashes. Blade after blade. Slash after slash.
Each strike was precise. Ruthless.
The azure and purple slashes radiated destructive force, shredding flesh and bone with ease.
Yorowin's body dissolved piece by piece, his form reduced to nothing but shredded fragments. His blood evaporated. His flesh disintegrated. His existence unraveled under the onslaught.
When it ended, there was nothing left.
Not a drop of blood. Not a shred of flesh. Every trace of Yorowin was obliterated.
Silence.
Atticus floated high in the air, unmoving. Calm. Not a bead of sweat on his face. Not a single ripple in his aura.
It took seconds for the gravity of what had happened to settle in.
The human paragons stared with shocked expressions. The vampyros elders stood frozen.
And then it hit them.
A child had killed a paragon.
The weight of those words was planetary. It crushed the air, leaving many unable to breathe.
But the silence didn't last.
It soon happened. The realization dawned on the vampyros elders.
Atticus had killed a vampyros elder.
A human. He had dared…
He had to die.
All seven elders moved in unison.
Streaks of crimson tore through the sky, converging on Atticus, their bloodlust erupting like a dam breaking.
Their radiant crimson armor glowed like molten blood, their weapons blazing as they closed the distance.
The human paragons' eyes widened. They surged forward, each of them desperate to intercept.
But they were too late.
The seven elders appeared from all sides, their weapons raised, their overwhelming auras crushing down on the battlefield like a tidal wave.
Magnus's heart pounded in his chest as dread gripped him. Atticus might have been able to match an elder, but all seven at once was a completely different case!
But despite everything, Atticus was calm.
Utterly unmoved.
The oppressive aura of the seven elders weighed on him, but his expression didn't change. His mind was sharp, running at incredible speed.
His perception extended outward, mapping every detail, every movement, every possibility.
He saw it.
Their movements. The present. And… the future.
His grip on his katana tightened.
His voice was low, but the words rolled like thunder.
"Sundering Storm."
The world shook.