In the distance, behind the remaining pillars of shattered marble, Kin'iro remained seated. Gin'iro was no longer by his side.
Kin'iro was alone.
Yet, his smile remained untouched—as if nothing had transpired, as if the bloody slaughter filling the grand hall were merely a tedious stage play.
His eyes drifted forward, surveying the chaos consuming the chamber.
"Aren't you going to join the fight?"
A heavy voice broke the silence from behind.
Kin'iro did not turn, nor did his expression betray a single flicker of surprise. "I am waiting," he answered nonchalantly. "And you?"
Marcus stepped out from behind a cracked pillar. His body was etched with lacerations and his protective armor was torn, but his eyes burned with a razor-sharp glare. Behind him, Zenless advanced with measured steps—though his golden robes were frayed and his arm bled, the folding fan in his grip remained perfectly unfurled.
"We can't just let you sit comfortably on that chair forever," Marcus growled, cracking his knuckles with a bone-jarring pop.
Zenless flicked his fan gently, wearing a subtle, confident smirk. "We have no idea how deep your power runs, Commander. But it would be rude not to greet you in person."
Kin'iro finally stood up.
He did so without urgency or dramatic flair—simply straightening his legs like someone who had grown weary of watching a long show.
"You know," Kin'iro spoke softly, "throughout this entire massacre, I have merely been observing. Counting. Assessing whether any of you were truly worthy."
His gaze settled on Marcus. "You are strong. But far too blunt and predictable."
Then his eyes shifted to Zenless. "And you... exceptionally talented. Yet far too arrogant."
Zenless chuckled softly, snapping his fan shut with a sharp, resonant SNAP!"And what about you, Commander?"
Kin'iro slowly raised his right hand, his fingers spreading in the air as a golden magic circle began to shimmer around his wrist.
"Me? I am the mirror showing just how lethal your ambitions are... and the threshold where all your hard work becomes utterly futile."
The words acted like a spark upon dry tinder. The blatant insult turned Marcus's knuckles stark white as he restrained the surging energy within him.
"Enough talk!" Marcus snarled.
He lunged first.
"Hell's Cadence!"
A flurry of close-quarters strikes erupted—unimaginably fast and relentless, weaving dozens of illusory arms that targeted Kin'iro's vital points simultaneously.
Kin'iro did not flinch, nor did he attempt to dodge.
He simply extended his open palm forward. A luminous golden magic circle materialized instantly, swirling like a serene whirlpool that swallowed the full kinetic impact and air pressure of Marcus's barrage without leaving a trace.
Marcus's eyes widened. "What—"
Kin'iro rotated his wrist and thrust his palm outward.
"The Multiplier."
The exact same barrage was unleashed back—yet doubled in scale, speed, and shockwave intensity!
BOOM!
Marcus coughed up fresh blood as the amplified surge of his own strikes slammed into his chest. His body was hurled backward, crashing violently through a row of marble debris.
Zenless did not stand idly by. His expression hardened, yet his movements remained precise. He swept his fan upward. "Lance of Judgment!"
A javelin of radiant golden light shot forward like lightning, piercing straight for Kin'iro's heart.
Kin'iro raised his left hand. A second golden magic circle expanded in the air, engulfing the luminous lance whole.
"The Redirection."
Rather than reflecting the attack back at Zenless, the magic circle refracted its trajectory. The light spear exited from an unpredictable vector—targeting Marcus, who was just attempting to crawl back up.
"GHK—!"
The spear of light impaled Marcus's right shoulder, pinning him to the marble floor. Crimson blood spurted, staining the shattered ground.
Zenless snapped his fan completely shut. For the first time, his confident smile vanished, replaced by a cold, analytical gaze.
"You..." Zenless muttered.
"Fascinating, isn't it?" Kin'iro offered a warm smile, as though serving afternoon tea. "Your flawless attack, weaponized to break your own ally."
Marcus tore the light spear from his shoulder with a muffled growl. Fresh blood ruined his chest plate, but his eyes still burned with unyielding combat spirit.
"You're... not just absorbing attacks," Marcus wheezed, his breathing ragged.
"Not merely absorbing," Kin'iro corrected in an instructional tone. "I multiply them. I store them. I redirect them as I see fit." He looked at his two opponents. "I don't need to waste my own energy creating attacks. I simply... use your own power to kill you."
Zenless stepped forward, tightening his grip on his fan. "Then let us see just how much capacity that threshold of yours can hold."
Marcus charged once more from the left. "Meteor Hammer Impact!"
A barrage of punches imbued with a searing red aura rained down like a meteor shower.
Kin'iro raised his hand. The magic circle swallowed every ounce of the explosive impact.
"The Delayed Trigger."
There was no instant retaliation. No reflected shockwave.
Kin'iro simply stood motionless, smiling serenely. "Later."
Marcus paid no heed and continued his desperate bombardment. "Hell's Jab!"
Kin'iro swallowed the strike whole once more.
Marcus refused to stop—punch after punch, combination after combination hurled in sheer frustration. Yet every time his fists met Kin'iro's domain, the golden magic circle absorbed all kinetic and magical energy. Nothing detonated. Everything accumulated within Kin'iro's unseen dimension.
Marcus was forced to a halt, dropping to his knees with frantic breaths. "Damn it... you're only defending!"
Kin'iro looked down at him coldly. "I am not defending. I am waiting."
Zenless seized the opening, leaping into the air. "Golden Nova!"
His fan unfurled wide, unleashing a colossal dome of golden magical energy that enveloped Kin'iro from all directions. Blinding light consumed the entire space where Kin'iro stood.
Kin'iro was unable to swallow the full radius of the area attack, but he successfully absorbed its core.
And before the golden smoke could clear, his eyes flickered sharply.
"The Delayed Trigger — Release."
CRACK... BOOOM!
The entire stockpile of magic he had stored—the combined force of Marcus's Meteor Hammer, the lingering thrusts of Hell's Jab, and the core of Zenless's Golden Nova—exploded from Kin'iro's palm all at once!
The collision of three massive powers triggered a devastating chain reaction. Searing heat, distorted pressure, and a wave of brilliant light swept through the entire chamber!
Marcus and Zenless didn't even have time to raise a barrier. The apocalyptic explosion turned their own attacks against them, violently hurling both fighters into the main hall's back wall.
BRUK!
The reinforced wall collapsed, burying them in rubble. Fresh blood stained the ruined stone. Zenless's fan slipped from his fingers, landing broken on the ground.
The thick smoke slowly dispersed. Kin'iro remained standing in the exact same spot—his robes completely stainless, his hands neatly folded behind his back.
"Do you see now?" Kin'iro whispered softly, gazing down at the two sprawled bodies before him. "The harder you try to strike me... the more horrific your deaths become."
On the other side of the shattered chamber, Leon remained on his knees. His breathing was heavy and ragged, warm blood still seeping from the wounds covering his entire body.
Yet, Forsaken stood quietly beside him. The pale green light pooling in his palms pressed gently against Leon's back—channeling healing energy that seeped in slowly, mending his open wounds one by one.
Leon drew a breath. Deep. Long.
"That's enough," he whispered.
Forsaken slowly pulled his hands back. "My Lord... your body has not fully recovered."
"I know." Leon forced himself to stand—his frame wavering for a brief second before he anchored his weight back onto his legs. "But I don't have time to wait."
His gaze swept across the ruined hall—looking far toward Kazan bound in chains, toward the crushed pillars where Marcus and Zenless had been hurled, and finally settling on the serene silhouette of Kin'iro.
"I have to move..." Leon muttered, his grip tightening around Lokantaka's hilt. "...before it's too late."
Behind him, Valker, Fenrith, and Sylvaris were still occupied securing the perimeter. But Leon did not look back.
With Lokantaka once again radiating a faint, dark aura, he took a firm step forward, cutting through the swirling dust.
His eyes were locked onto a single target.
=== CHAPTER 49 END ===