Isaac tossed the severed arm aside, the limp limb landing with a dull thud. A grin spread across his face as he took slow, deliberate steps forward.
"You're done." His voice was calm, almost amused. "You're drained. And soon you'll run out of blood."
The commander trembled on the ground, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He tried to crawl backward, but his body was too weak. Fear flickered in his eyes.
Isaac tilted his head. "You're a class-B, right?" He let the words hang for a moment before stepping closer. "So how does it feel to be slain by a class-E farmer?"
The commander swallowed hard, his body shaking.
Isaac's gaze darkened. "Rank and ability don't decide a person's worth."
The commander's breath hitched. "What… what are you?" he rasped.
Isaac's grin widened.
He raised his axe high above his head. One swing and the body would split like wood.
But then…
"Stop!"
A voice rang through the air.
Isaac's grip tightened.
The commander froze.
Isaac halted mid-swing, his brown eyes flicking toward the source of the voice.
Aiah stood there, breathless, urgency in her gaze.
Aiah stepped forward, locking eyes with Isaac. "Let me handle him."
The commander tensed, but then relief washed over his face.
Isaac studied Aiah for a moment. Her expression was calm, but something unreadable lurked in her eyes.
He exhaled sharply. The fight was over. His promise to Didi, to save his sister, was fulfilled. That was enough.
With a nod, he lowered his axe and turned away.
Aiah walked past him, stopping in front of the commander.
The commander coughed, blood staining his lips. Yet, despite his battered state, a pleasant smile stretched across his face. His eyes gleamed with something sinister beneath the pain.
"You're… just as beautiful… up close," he murmured, his breath shaky. "It's fate, isn't it? A woman like you… shouldn't waste yourself… hiding… running…" He coughed again, but his grin remained.
"You deserve… someone with a high rank. And look at you… c-coming to me… the moment I fall…" A weak, wheezing chuckle escaped him. "I… I knew… you couldn't… resist…"
Aiah's lips curled into a sweet, delicate smile.
"Oh, you poor thing," she whispered. "You don't have to suffer like this!"
The commander's smirk widened.
Aiah leaned in closer, her lips parting slightly. "You've been drooling over me all night," she murmured, her voice like silk. "You want to feel my heat so badly, don't you?"
The wide smirk of the commander slowly faded.
Aiah giggled, tracing lazy circles in the air with her fingers. Tiny embers flickered to life at her fingertips.
"Let me show you just how hot I really am."
"[Fire Burst!]"
FWOOOSH!
Flames erupted from her hands, latching onto his skin like hungry serpents.
The commander's screams tore through the night. His body jerked violently as fire consumed him, peeling flesh from bone, turning his divine glow into nothing but fading embers. His hands reached out, shaking, desperate for mercy that would never come.
Aiah watched, her smile never wavering.
"Burn for me," she whispered.
And he did.
Until nothing was left but ash.
—-----
The sun was rising, painting the sky in deep blue and orange. The battlefield was silent.
At the front of his soldiers, the high-ranking officer rode forward, scanning the scene from afar. Then, his gaze stopped on Aiah, who stood among the wreckage.
His body tensed. That face. He knew it.
His grip tightened on the reins.
"There she is," he muttered under his breath.
Straightening in his saddle, his voice rang out across the battlefield.
"Princess Aiah!"
The name sliced through the quiet morning like a blade.
Aiah's body tensed. Her head snapped toward the approaching soldiers.
At their lead stood a broad-shouldered man clad in dark steel armor, his presence commanding. A thick mustache framed his stern mouth, and a jagged scar ran from his left cheek to his jawline. His sharp eyes, dark as iron, locked onto Aiah, filled with shock and urgency.
Isaac, standing nearby, heard it too. His gaze flicked toward Aiah. 'Princess?'
Her eyes widened as she recognized the man leading the soldiers.
General Broner.
General Broner didn't hesitate. He raised his arm, signaling to his men. "Seize the princess!"
The soldiers surged forward.
Aiah turned to Isaac, urgency in her voice. "They're from the palace. We have to go. Now."
Isaac's gaze flicked between the advancing army and the battlefield filled with fallen warriors. His mind worked fast. They couldn't just run. They needed supplies.
His voice rang out, loud and firm. "Take the weapons from the dead. Load the wagons and carriages. Take the horses. They'll be useful."
The captives snapped into action. They scavenged swords, spears, and armor from the fallen, moving quickly to gather whatever they could. Some climbed onto the abandoned carriages, while others grabbed the reins of the horses left behind.
Aiah turned back to Isaac. "Aren't you coming?"
Isaac gripped his axe tighter, his eyes locked onto the advancing army. "I'll follow soon."
Aiah frowned. "What are you planning?"
Isaac exhaled. "They're faster than us. If we just run, they'll catch up." His expression hardened. "I'm going to slow them down."
"Are you insane?" Aiah snapped. "That's General Broner, one of Bulcan's class-S generals."
Isaac smirked. "Go. Hurry up and escape. I'll handle things here."
As Aiah's group moved farther away, a massive force erupted from Isaac's feet, sending dust and debris flying.
The last thing Aiah saw before the dust swallowed him was the gleam of his axe, raised high, ready for war.
Isaac's breathing was heavy as the soldiers closed in. Then the system notification appeared before his eyes.
[Warning: Energy levels have dropped below 40%.]
[Energy at 0%. Skills temporarily locked. Combat ability reduced to base physical stats and a temporarily blackout]
Isaac clenched his jaw. He could already feel the strain in his body. His muscles ached, and his movements were slightly slower than before. The previous battles had drained him more than he realized.
'Damn it.'
He had pushed himself too hard. His fusion with the being had given him immense strength, but his body still had limits.
Facing a class-S opponent like General Broner was an opportunity he didn't want to waste.
'How strong is a class-S really?' The thought excited him, but the reality was harsh.
There were nearly a hundred soldiers between him and Broner. Each one was a trained warrior, and even if they were weaker than him individually, their sheer numbers would drain him completely.
'I can take them… but at what cost?'
He glanced toward the fleeing captives.
'Aiah and the others are still too close. If I fall here, they'll be next.'
His grip on his axe tightened. He was ready to fight, ready to give everything he had to slow them down. Even if it meant pushing his body to the limit, he wouldn't let them be captured.
Just as he braced himself for the battle, something unexpected happened.
A hand-span locust landed on his shoulder.
Isaac froze. His body tensed, but he didn't swat it away. Something about it felt… unnatural. His instincts screamed at him, warning that this was no ordinary insect.
Then, a voice echoed in his mind.
"Welcome back, Master."
Isaac's eyes widened. His breath caught. Slowly, he turned his head, staring at the locust.
'Master?'