The fire and ice swords erupted, transforming into two roaring dragons—one of crimson flame, the other of frosty azure. The dragons entangled around each other, twisting and spiraling into a massive elemental drill. The fiery and icy energies fused violently, creating a swirling force of destruction and chaos.
With a swift motion, Kanoru hurled the Twin Dragon Drill forward.
The pale woman's third eye glimmered faintly, sensing the devastating power of the oncoming attack. Without panic, she raised her broken umbrella, and a grey barrier of spectral energy appeared before her, crackling with necrotic energy.
The drill of entwined dragons slammed into the barrier with a deafening roar, the clash sending ripples of energy through the clouds. For a brief moment, the sky was split apart by the collision.
Then—BOOM!
A massive explosion engulfed the two figures, sending a shockwave of fire and ice cascading outward. The sky quaked, and the battlefield below briefly paused as the combatants glanced upward, witnessing the destructive clash.
When the blinding light of the explosion faded, Kanoru's eyes narrowed. The pale woman stood unscathed, her grey barrier still intact, though she had been pushed backward by the force of the blast.
The woman's three eyes narrowed in irritation. Just as she prepared to retaliate, her eyes flickered with confusion. She glanced around, searching—but Kanoru was gone.
Her eyes suddenly widened in alarm, and with a sharp gasp, she snapped her gaze behind her.
"Too slow."
Kanoru's voice came from behind, low and cold.
He appeared with a disc of spiraling wind energy surrounding him. The air crackled violently, and with a single, fluid motion, he thrust his palm forward, hurling the condensed energy sphere at her.
Her three eyes flickered, but before she could evade, the energy ball tore through her, shattering her form. Her body burst into a cloud of phantom mist, dispersing into the air.
Kanoru's eyes narrowed slightly. His grip on his sword tightened, sensing the illusion for what it was.
To his left, a faint flicker of grey caught his eye. He immediately turned his gaze, spotting her reappearing from the mist. She emerged with an eerie calmness, her umbrella once again raised, and in her other hand, she scattered a wave of grey rose petals toward him.
The petals fluttered and twisted in the air, but Kanoru could feel the malevolent energy surging within them. As the petals closed in, he could sense the sharp, cutting force behind them—each petal was laced with death energy, capable of shredding through his defenses.
Without hesitation, Kanoru parted his lips, and with a deep breath, he unleashed a powerful roar.
"RAAAH!"
From his throat came a resonating Lion's Roar, a signature sound-wave spell. A massive lion's head formed from the wind energy, its mane of howling gusts swirling fiercely. The lion's mouth opened wide, releasing a deafening roar that rippled through the air.
The shockwave of sound blasted forward, colliding with the grey rose petals. The petals were instantly shredded into nothingness, their death energy dispersing into the wind.
The roar continued, crashing into the pale woman with unrelenting force.
Her eyes widened in shock, and she let out a pained screech as the sound wave slammed into her, sending her tumbling backward. Blood dripped from her ears, and her umbrella cracked, unable to withstand the spell's intensity.
Her spectral form flickered, clearly weakened, but she still managed to steady herself, her crimson eyes burning with malice.
Kanoru's eyes narrowed coldly. He raised his sword, the wind around him growing more violent, preparing for the next exchange.
The sky quaked with each clash as Kanoru and the pale woman exchanged relentless blows. The stormy clouds above the battlefield swirled violently, flashes of light and shadow painting the heavens with each devastating exchange.
The pale woman, despite her injuries, refused to back down. Her umbrella glowed with necrotic energy, sending forth waves of grey mist that slithered toward Kanoru like grasping phantoms. The rose petals from before, now sharpened and darkened, whirled around her like a cyclone of death, ready to shred anything in their path.
Kanoru's eyes narrowed, and with a sharp breath, he twisted his wrist, sending blades of wind energy spiraling outward. The cutting gales slashed through the phantom mist, dissipating it with each gust. He dashed through the opening, his body surrounded by a violent whirlwind, his sword flashing with chilling precision.
With a flick of his blade, he sent out a crescent wave of wind, but the pale woman flickered, her form phasing into mist, dodging the attack. She reappeared above him, thrusting her hand downward.
Grey tendrils of death energy shot toward Kanoru, spiraling like serpents with razor-sharp fangs, seeking to coil around him.
Without hesitation, Kanoru spun mid-air, his cloak flaring, and with a sweep of his arm, he conjured a howling wind barrier. The tendrils collided violently with the wall of wind, dissipating into thin wisps.
The pale woman's eyes narrowed coldly, and she suddenly vanished.
Kanoru's gaze snapped sideways, immediately sensing her presence behind him. Her grey petals surged forward once more, forming a deadly storm.
Kanoru, with a low grunt, raised his sword high, and in a fluid motion, he swept it downward, releasing a massive arc of wind energy. The force tore through the petals, scattering them into dust.
But the pale woman was already upon him, her umbrella slashing downward, crackling with grey lightning.
With no time to evade, Kanoru crossed his sword before him, blocking the attack. The impact jolted through his body, and blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.
Still, his gaze remained sharp.
---
As the sun dipped toward the horizon, its light dimming, the ever-present Blood Moon became impossible to ignore. The faint golden glow of the sun faded entirely, drowned by the moon's eternal crimson light. The entire sky bathed in red, casting an ominous and unearthly glow over the battlefield.
The twilight wind howled softly, carrying the smell of blood and smoke across the desolate land.
Kanoru's breath slowed, his eyes reflecting the crimson haze. He could feel the burning sensation in his muscles, the toll of the battle weighing on him. He knew he couldn't prolong the fight any further.
He exhaled slowly, his gaze locking onto the pale woman, whose third eye flickered with faint energy, her form already weakened, her movements sluggish.
"It's time to end this."
Kanoru's hands moved in a blur, conjuring intricate seals in the air, his voice a low whisper as he chanted an ancient incantation.
The wind around him surged, growing violent and sharp, and the clouds above split apart, revealing the crimson Blood Moon in its full, eerie glory.
His sword lifted high, and in a blinding flash, the iconic Sky Sword spell emerged—a colossal, shimmering blue sword floating above him, its blade gleaming with imposing brilliance, its edge sharp enough to sever the heavens.
But this time, Kanoru's eyes burned with greater intensity.
He wasn't done.
With a twist of his hand, the Sky Sword splintered into ten smaller swords, each one two meters long and shimmering with azure light. With another hand gesture, he invoked the Thousand Wind Arrows Kill spell.
The ten swords warped, transforming into arrows, but unlike ordinary wind arrows, these retained the full power of the Sky Sword, making them deadlier and faster, and with the wind arrow spell's tracking ability, they were now impossible to dodge.
The air trembled violently as the spell took form.
Ten brilliant azure arrows hovered in a perfect arc before Kanoru, swirling with radiant energy, their edges glowing with deadly sharpness. The wind howled around him, carrying the piercing sound of the arrows' vibration.
Kanoru's eyes flashed coldly.
"Ten Sky Arrow Kill."
He thrust his hand forward, and with a thunderous roar, the ten arrows shot forth, their blue light streaking across the blood-red sky like falling stars.
The pale woman's eyes widened.
With her umbrella already cracked and her body weakened, she barely had the strength to defend. Three of the arrows tore into her phantom form, ripping through her ethereal flesh, sending her reeling backward.
Her scream echoed across the battlefield as the remaining seven arrows descended, slamming into her. Though she desperately conjured grey shields, she could only block them partially, her already festering wounds worsening with each collision.
Her grey umbrella shattered, and dark ichor seeped from her wounds. She let out a haggard breath, her face twisted in pain and rage.
She staggered backward, clutching her side, her third eye dimming slightly. Her crimson gaze locked onto Kanoru, filled with vengeful malice.
Through gritted teeth, she hissed:
"You won this time... but wait. I will have my revenge."
Her body flickered, phasing in and out of existence. She vanished and reappeared in the distance. Again and again, she teleported with erratic flickers, her form growing fainter with each jump, until she finally vanished from Kanoru's sight.
The ten arrows dissipated, their glimmering light fading into the darkened sky.
Kanoru's body swayed slightly, his breath ragged. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, and he clutched his left side, his hand stained crimson.
The spell had taken a toll on him, and his injured body finally began to give way.
With a slow, measured breath, Kanoru descended from the sky, his boots touching the blood-soaked earth. The faint glow of the Blood Moon illuminated his worn and battle-hardened figure, casting a crimson halo around him. The faint traces of blood on his lips and the bruises on his arms did nothing to dim the fierce light in his eyes.
Though his personal battle was over, the battle below raged on.
The enemy spirit realm cultivators, witnessing the retreat of their commander, quickly lost their resolve. Some frantically turned to flee, while others desperately fought back, trying to carve out an escape path.
The spirit realm experts from Kanoru's forces, already embroiled in combat with the enemy, immediately moved to intercept. The clash was swift and brutal.
Of the fifteen enemy spirit realms, ten managed to escape, their figures flickering through the void and vanishing into the distance, leaving behind nothing but faint traces of spiritual energy.
The remaining five, however, were not so fortunate.
Kanoru, despite his weakened state, moved with deadly precision, his sword cutting through the crimson haze with unwavering lethality. With each stroke of his blade, he severed limbs and heads, his wind-charged slashes carving through their defensive barriers as though they were mere paper.
The forest echoed with their dying screams as Kanoru and his spirit realm subordinates cut them down without mercy.
Once the last spirit realm enemy fell, their bodies reduced to lifeless husks, Kanoru turned his gaze toward the battlefield still teeming with enemies.
---
The 0-tier enemies, mere puppets of flesh and bone, fought mindlessly despite their leaders' retreat. Their soulless eyes showed no trace of fear, no thought of self-preservation. They lunged forward with primal ferocity, uncaring for their own survival, driven solely by their masters' will.
Kanoru's army, now free from the spirit realm experts, tore through them.
Swords clashed, spears pierced, and arrows rained down in merciless volleys. Blades of wind, torrents of fire, and spears of ice ravaged the puppet forces. The crimson haze thickened with each new death, and soon the forest floor was littered with more than a thousand corpses.
The sentient enemies, witnessing the massacre of their lesser brethren, finally attempted to flee. Some darted into the forest, while others vanished in bursts of shadow. Yet only a handful managed to escape. The rest were cut down mercilessly, their blood painting the earth.
When the battle finally ended, the forest was left in ruin. The ground was slick with gore, saturated with thick pools of blood. Broken weapons, shattered armor, and severed limbs lay scattered across the forest floor, creating a gruesome mosaic of carnage. The stench of iron and burnt flesh clung heavily to the damp evening air.
Amidst the sea of corpses, Leon and Watt stood, their bodies stained with blood—both their own and that of their enemies. Their armor was cracked and dented, and gashes marred their skin, leaving them battered and worn.
With their strength drained and their legs barely holding them up, the two men finally collapsed onto the blood-soaked earth. Neither of them cared about the mangled corpses and twisted puppet bodies surrounding them. The smell of decay and the sticky blood beneath them were nothing compared to the relief of still being alive.
Leon, his chest heaving with exhaustion, stared at the crimson sky and, after a brief silence, let out a hoarse chuckle.
"I... I am alive," he muttered, almost in disbelief.
Beside him, Watt released a ragged breath, and with a tired grin, he replied, "Yes... you are alive."
For a moment, they both stared at the sky, then suddenly, without reason, they burst into laughter.
The sound was rough and wild, almost maniacal, as though they were two madmen who had stared into death's maw and come back laughing. The raw, unrestrained sound echoed through the clearing, drawing the attention of nearby soldiers.
Their comrades, still cleaning the battlefield, glanced their way. Some smiled faintly, recognizing the familiar madness that came from surviving a slaughter, while others simply shook their heads and continued with their work.
A young woman, dressed in a mage's robe, her long hair tied in a messy bun, and a staff clutched in her hand, approached the two men. Her robes were torn and stained, and dried blood clung to her sleeves, but she still carried herself with calm determination.
Her gentle eyes scanned over their battered forms, and she knelt beside them, her voice soft but firm.
"Are you two okay?" she asked, her tone filled with genuine concern. She raised her staff slightly, and faint green light shimmered at the tip, the gentle glow of healing magic illuminating her hand. "I know some healing spells. I can help you."
Leon and Watt's laughter gradually died down, and they slowly turned to look at her.
Their eyes met hers, and for a moment, they both saw the kindness in her gaze, but Watt was the first to shake his head slightly.
He let out a tired sigh, offering a weak but grateful smile, and said, "Thank you, but we're not seriously injured. You should heal the others who need it more."
Leon, still catching his breath, nodded in agreement. "Yeah..." he added, his voice still hoarse. "Go help them. We'll be fine."
The girl hesitated for a moment, her eyes flickering between their bloodied forms, clearly unsure if they were truly as uninjured as they claimed. But eventually, she nodded softly.
Without another word, she rose to her feet and walked away, heading toward the wounded soldiers scattered across the battlefield. Her green healing light flickered in the distance as she tended to the others.
As she disappeared from sight, Leon and Watt remained lying on the bloodied ground, their chests rising and falling slowly. Neither of them spoke, too weary to move, yet somehow, despite the pain gnawing at their limbs, a faint, satisfied grin remained on their faces.
They were alive—and for now, that was enough.