Samye ran.

  Not with direction — with instinct.

  Smoke blurred his vision. Screams overlapped. Steel clashed against steel. He pushed past broken shields and fallen bodies, calling Kayal’s name again and again, but the battlefield swallowed every sound.

  Then—

  A sharp, unnatural cut tore through the air.

  Meta Slash.

  Samye turned just in time.

  A blade, moving faster than sight, was about to tear through a wounded soldier’s neck. Samye lunged without thinking, slamming his spear sideways.

  CLANG.

  The slash diverted by inches.

  The soldier collapsed, gasping.

  Samye grabbed his shoulder.

  “Can you move?”

  The man coughed, nodding weakly. “Y–Yes…”

  “Good,” Samye said, already turning away. “Then get going. I’ll handle him.”

  The enemy stepped forward.

  One arm was mechanical — crude metal plates bolted together, sparks flickering between joints. In his other hand, he held a rusted sword, its edge chipped but soaked dark with blood.

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  His smile was thin.

  Hungry.

  “So you’re the one causing trouble,” the man said. “Let’s see how long you last.”

  He vanished—

  —and reappeared mid-air, swinging again.

  Meta Slash.

  Samye twisted, the blade slicing past his chest, tearing cloth and skin but missing bone.

  Too close.

  They collided.

  Steel screamed as spear met sword. The impact sent both of them skidding backward before launching forward again, clashing at full speed.

  The enemy pressed hard — relentless, brutal — trying to overwhelm Samye with raw aggression.

  But Samye held.

  He dodged.

  Redirected.

  Countered.

  Every movement precise.

  He’s not going to stop, Samye realized. Not unless one of us falls.

  Then—

  A scream.

  Loud.

  Desperate.

  Samye’s head snapped toward the sound.

  Someone else was dying.

  Rain began to pour.

  Cold drops struck the ground, extinguishing small fires, turning dust into mud. Lightning flashed across the sky, illuminating the battlefield in stark white.

  The enemy laughed.

  “Looks like the heavens favor me.”

  Samye exhaled slowly.

  “No,” he said calmly. “That’s not it.”

  He lowered his stance.

  “…Alright. I’ll take you seriously now.”

  Samye closed his eyes for a fraction of a second.

  Breath aligned.

  Mind focused.

  Body steady.

  “Secret Arts — First Form:”

  “Elemental Boost.”

  The rain trembled.

  Lightning cracked across the sky — not random, not wild.

  It answered.

  A bolt descended violently, striking Samye’s spear.

  But instead of exploding—

  It was captured.

  Electric arcs wrapped around the shaft, crawling along the metal, humming with restrained power. The ground beneath Samye’s feet cracked under the pressure.

  The enemy’s smile faded.

  “…What the hell—?”

  Samye opened his eyes.

  They burned with quiet resolve.

  He spun once, gathering momentum, muscles screaming as he poured everything into the throw.

  “For everyone you won’t get to hurt again.”

  He hurled the spear.

  Lightning roared.

  The spear became a streak of white-blue light, tearing through rain and air toward the enemy with unstoppable force.

  The enemy raised his blade—

  Too late.

  The storm swallowed the battlefield.

  And somewhere beyond the thunder—

  Samye knew this was only the beginning.