The clash between Lucian Blackthorne and Marcus Ironfist shook the heavens.
Marcus, known as the Martial Saint, unleashed the Heavenly Fist Art, a technique so powerful it could tear through the laws of nature. His first strike carried the force of a collapsing mountain, aiming straight for Lucian's heart.
Lucian reacted instantly. He deflected the fist upward with his blade, sending the energy surging skyward. The sheer impact shattered the mountaintop, tearing a massive hole through the clouds, leaving a storm raging in its wake.
Lucian smirked. "You're already using your full strength, Marcus? That's disappointing."
Marcus cracked his knuckles, his golden mana surging around him like divine armor. His expression darkened. "This? This is only the beginning."
With a thunderous step, Marcus unleashed Titan's Ruin, a fist technique feared across the continent. Each strike carried an earth-shattering force, capable of shattering both body and soul.
Lucian countered with the fourth form—Umbral Dominion. A surge of abyssal mana engulfed his blade, creating a vacuum that devoured the incoming force. The clash sent out a shockwave so powerful that the entire mountain range trembled.
Marcus's golden-clad hands trembled after the exchange, cracks forming in his mana-coated fists. His eyes widened in disbelief.
Before he could fully recover, Lucian's aura surged.
"It's over, Martial Saint."
With absolute precision, Lucian executed the tenth and ultimate form of the Blackthorne Tenfold—The Sovereign's Finale.
A single, decisive slash.
The strike cleaved through Marcus, creating a massive hole in his torso. Blood sprayed across the battlefield as the Martial Saint's body staggered back, his life force rapidly fading.
Lucian stood before him, his demonic gaze unrelenting. "You were the strongest among them, Marcus. If only you had stayed out of my way, you could have lived for much longer."
Marcus collapsed, his golden aura flickering before vanishing into the void. The Martial Saint was no more.
Lucian retrieved the Voidheart Sigil, a relic of his family, capable of holding vast amounts of subspace storage. He moved to collect the corpses of Marcus, Ignatius, Leonidas, and Alaric—all possessing powerful mana cores, vital for his future growth.
However, as he reached for Alaric's body, a pulse of ancient magic filled the air.
Lucian's gaze snapped to the side.
Alaric Spellbinder still stood. His severed limbs had been restored, his flesh regenerating through an eerie glow. In his hands, the Decima Vitae Relic pulsed with a forbidden spell.
Lucian's eyes narrowed. "You regenerated… using that artifact?"
Alaric's voice was laced with desperation as he chanted an incantation, attempting to resurrect the fallen hunters. "You won't take their bodies, Blackthorne!"
Lucian didn't hesitate. From the first to the fifth form, he executed The Blackthorne Tenfold in rapid succession.
Each strike layered upon the last, creating a cascading devastation that tore through the air.
In a single moment, Lucian cleaved the Decima Vitae Relic in two.
The forbidden spell collapsed.
Alaric coughed out blood, his mana reserves completely drained. His face contorted with sorrow. "So... you can even cut through a relic… From the beginning, this fight was unfair."
Lucian's expression was unreadable. "This wouldn't have happened if you hadn't slaughtered my family."
With one final, merciless stroke, Alaric fell.
Lucian stored the bodies in the Voidheart Sigil, securing the mana cores for himself.
One Week Later—Vanguard City
Lucian walked through the bustling streets of Vanguard City, his presence masked among the crowd. Towering skyscrapers loomed overhead, their glass exteriors reflecting the stormy sky.
As he passed by a massive digital screen, something caught his attention. The Hunter Association's official news broadcast was airing an emergency report.
On the screen sat Aldric Voss, the Chairman of the Hunter Association, his expression grave. Beside him, Sebastian Stratagem, the Grand Tactician, remained composed, his eyes sharp with calculated intent.
A reporter addressed them. "Chairman Voss, can you confirm who is responsible for the deaths of the National Hunters?"
Aldric Voss nodded, his voice thick with authority. "Yes. The culprit is none other than Lucian Blackthorne."
A murmur ran through the audience, the weight of the statement shaking the very foundation of the city.
Sebastian leaned forward, his tone controlled but firm. "Lucian Blackthorne is no longer merely a rogue hunter—he is a traitor to humanity itself. He has abandoned all morality, embracing the path of demons. We have irrefutable evidence that he used forbidden magic to consume the cores of fallen hunters, growing stronger through dark means."
A reporter hesitated before asking, "Are you saying that Lucian Blackthorne has become… a demon?"
Aldric's gaze darkened. "Not just any demon. He is the greatest threat to humanity. We cannot allow him to roam free. From this moment onward, Lucian Blackthorne is declared an Abyssal Calamity. A bounty of one hundred million credits has been placed on his head."
The entire world watched as the decree was made official.
Lucian exhaled slowly, a smirk creeping onto his lips. "So, you want to play this dirty game, Aldric? Fine. Let's see who outlasts the other. And you—Sebastian—always lurking in the shadows, pulling the strings like some grand puppet master. But even the most meticulous tacticians make fatal miscalculations."