The scythe was falling.

  Lucia stood frozen, her eyes wide with the reflection of the black blade that was seconds away from severing her head. The terror of the Void Stalker’s miasma had locked her muscles completely.

  Alaric, sprinting from the tunnel, knew he wouldn't make it. His legs were fast, but not fast enough to bridge the fifty-meter gap before the blade connected.

  Think, Alaric’s mind raced, time seemingly slowing down. I need propulsion. Instantaneous thrust.

  An image from his past life flashed in his mind. Fighter jets & Rockets.

  The principle was simple: Redirecting instantaneously heated air, which expanded in volume massively, creating pressure. That pressure, forced through a nozzle, created thrust.

  I have the heat and mana.

  Alaric stopped running. He raised both hands behind him, palms facing backward.

  "Creo Ignis: Whiteflame."

  He didn't just summon fire, he summoned the advanced rank flame spell that can melt metals. He fed it rapidly, using wind magic to condense the air in the surrounding between his palms and the fire. The air superheated instantly, expanding with explosive force which he also redirected in a straight pattern outward from his palm.

  But there was a problem. If he launched himself at that speed, the air resistance would crush his body like a bug on a windshield.

  Create a path.

  Alaric manipulated the wind in front of him, stripping the air away to create a partial vacuum tunnel.

  He released the pressure from his hands.

  BOOM!

  It sounded like a cannon blast. A cone of white fire erupted from his palms. Alaric didn't run rather he was launched. He tore through the vacuum tunnel, his speed nearing the sound barrier, blurring into a streak of navy blue and white.

  Before the Void Stalker’s scythe could close the final inch, a force slammed into Lucia’s waist.

  Alaric grabbed her, his momentum carrying them both sideways, skidding across the dirt in a tumble of limbs just as the scythe cleaved the empty air where she had been standing.

  They crashed into the earth twenty meters away.

  Alaric rolled, coming up to a crouch, gasping for air. His arms smoked from the heat of the discharge.

  Up in the tower, Duke Thorne was screaming orders, but he couldn't see the battle. The high walls of the gatehouse blocked his line of sight to the field outside. He didn't know his daughter had nearly died.

  "Lucia..." Alaric whispered, looking at her with wide, shocked eyes. She was alive.

  "Stay back," Alaric ordered, his voice tight.

  The Void Stalker turned. Its faceless head tilted. It had missed its prey. It let out a grinding screech and began to walk toward them.

  Alaric stood up. He closed his eyes for a split second.

  I need everything.

  He opened his internal floodgates and used the massive reserves of mana he had cultivated and poured 20% of it into his body reinforcement all at once.

  "Confirma: Overload."

  A visible aura of green erupted around him, cracking the ground beneath his boots. His muscles screamed under the pressure, but he felt stronger than he had ever felt in his life.

  He drew his standard steel sword and vanished.

  He reappeared in front of the demon, his blade a silver blur.

  CLANG!

  The sword struck the creature's arm, but it didn't cut. It bounced off the skin like armor with a spark. The Void Stalker didn't flinch. It swung its other arm, a lazy, heavy swipe.

  Alaric ducked, the wind of the blow ruffling his hair.

  It’s slow, Alaric analyzed, backing away. But its defense is impenetrable. It probably tires its opponent out.

  Suddenly, the Void Stalker’s chest plates shifted. Its vertical mouth split open.

  A beam of concentrated purple fire erupted.

  Alaric’s mana sense screamed a split second before the firing. He twisted his body mid-air, the heat of the beam touching his uniform as it passed inches from his ribs.

  Further back, the students of the attacking army were useless. They were shaking, their knees buckling under the sheer terror of the demon’s presence.

  Only Roland moved.

  The noble swallowed his pride and fear. He turned and sprinted toward the open gate of the fortress.

  "HELP!" Roland screamed as he ran into the tunnel. "WE NEED THE DUKE! HELP!"

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  Back on the field, Alaric was running out of options.

  He circled the demon, looking for a weak point. He cast a spell.

  "Creo Aqua: Sphere."

  A massive globe of water formed around the Void Stalker’s head, sealing it in. Alaric hoped to drown it.

  The demon didn't even pause. It walked through the water, unbothered.

  It doesn't breathe, Alaric realized, dismissing the spell. Biological attacks won't work.

  He was breathing hard. The 20% strengthening was eating his stamina. He needed a finish it somehow.

  He looked at his sword.

  I have one shot.

  "Creo Ignis: Whiteflame."

  He coated the steel blade in his signature white fire. The metal instantly began to glow bright orange, then yellow. It was melting.

  Five seconds. Maybe six before the sword melts.

  Alaric narrowed his eyes. He recalled Roland’s movements from their duel.

  "Creo Terra: Lightweight." "Creo Ventus: Gale Boost."

  He combined the weight reduction and wind propulsion with his already massive strengthening.

  He moved so fast that he broke the sound barrier, a sonic boom exploding behind him.

  The Void Stalker reacted, swinging its scythe to intercept.

  Alaric didn't stop or block it. He dropped his center of gravity, sliding on his knees under the massive claw.

  He slid right into the creature's guard.

  Using his momentum, he drove the melting, white-hot sword upward, straight into the gap between the demon's chest plates.

  SHINK.

  The superheated blade pierced the armor like butter, burying itself to the hilt.

  "Flaming Tornado."

  Alaric cast the spell not from his hands, but through the sword inside the demon.

  The Void Stalker froze. Its chest expanded violently, bloating like a grotesque balloon as the fire pressure built up inside its shell.

  BOOM!

  The demon exploded from the inside out. Black ichor and chunks of chitin rained down on the field.

  Alaric stood up, wiping black blood from his cheek. He exhaled a long, shaky breath. His sword was gone, vaporized in the explosion.

  He turned around to give Lucia a thumbs up.

  Lucia was looking at him, her eyes filled with relief and worry.

  But then, Alaric’s expression shattered. He looked past her, his face draining of all color.

  Lucia turned.

  Another rift had opened.

  This one wasn't a tear, it was a door.

  A figure floated out. He wasn't a beast rather a humanoid demon wearing regal, dark purple robes. His skin was pale grey and his horns curved elegantly, and he held himself with the arrogance of a king.

  Malakor, the Void Walker.

  One of the Generals serving the Demon Lord Malzareth.

  The air grew heavy. Students collapsed, vomiting from the sheer density of his mana. This wasn't a monster but rather a calamity.

  Malakor didn't look at Alaric. He didn't look at the army.

  His obsidian eyes locked onto Lucia.

  "Found you," Malakor said, his voice smooth and terrible. "The Vessel of Hope."

  From the fortress walls, Duke Thorne finally appeared, leaping, sprinting toward them with desperation on his face. But he was hundreds of meters away.

  Malakor raised one finger.

  A small sphere of dark magic formed at the tip. It wasn't a fire or anything. It was a singularity, a point of absolute destruction that deatomized matter.

  "Die," Malakor whispered.

  He fired it.

  Lucia couldn't move. The General’s killing intent pinned her soul to the ground. She saw the black beam coming. She closed her eyes, accepting the end.

  Alaric saw it too.

  I can't deflect that.

  It was a spell from a General. It would eat through any counter-spell he had. It would vaporize him instantly.

  But he was the only one there.

  Move.

  Alaric threw himself in front of Lucia.

  He didn't attack. He screamed, dumping every ounce of remaining mana into defense.

  "CONFIRMA!" "EARTH WALL!" “ICE WALL!” "NULL MAGIC: PHYSICAL BARRIER!" "NULL MAGIC: MAGICAL BARRIER!"

  Layer after layer of light, ice and stone formed in front of him.

  The Void Lance hit.

  CRACK.

  The Earth Wall got pierced while the ice wall got vaporized. The Null Barriers shattered like glass. His aura concentrated skin tore apart.

  The beam slammed into Alaric’s chest.

  There was no sound, only a flash of black light.

  Alaric was blasted backward as if hit by a train. He slammed into Lucia, his body acting as a meat shield, knocking her to the ground.

  Alaric lay on top of her, motionless. His back was a ruin.

  Malakor floated closer, raising his hand for a second shot. "Persistent insect."

  BOOM!

  A meteor of black steel slammed into the ground between Malakor and the students.

  Dust billowed out. From the crater, a figure rose.

  Duke Thorne.

  His Greatsword glowed with an immense, golden aura that pushed back the void. His eyes were burning with the fury of a father.

  Behind him, five Elite Knights of the Thorne Garrison landed in formation, weapons drawn.

  "MALAKOR!" Thorne roared.

  He charged.

  The clash between the Grandmaster and the Demon General created shockwaves that shook the Fortress. The ground quaked.

  Malakor blocked Thorne’s strike, but he drifted back. He looked at the five elites flanking him, and the enraged Duke in front of him.

  "Enemy territory," Malakor mused, his voice calm. "Disadvantageous."

  He chuckled, a dry, rasping sound.

  "I will return when the opportunity ripens."

  He faded backward, dissolving into the purple rift. The gate snapped shut, leaving only silence.

  The pressure vanished.

  Lucia gasped, pushing herself up.

  She was covered in blood. But it wasn't hers.

  "Alaric?"

  He was lying in her lap. His uniform was gone, burned away. A massive wound cratered in his chest where the beam had struck. He wasn't moving.

  "Alaric!"

  She grabbed his face, her hands trembling uncontrollably. Tears streamed down her cheeks, mixing with the soot and blood.

  "Wake up," she sobbed, pouring her Light Magic into him, panic rising in her voice. "Please, please, just wake up! Talk to me!"

  He didn't answer.