He remembered how it all began.
The fire. The screams. The chaos.
The night the Rakshas army stormed their town.
His father was the first to fall, clutching a farming blade that had no chance against real steel. His friends disappeared into the smoke. And his mother—her hands shaking, her eyes wet with tears that never fell—grabbed his face one last time.The clash of steel and the roar of men filled the air, echoing through the entrance of Dand Valley. The ground shook under the march of thousands — the armored soldiers of the Boomi Empire crashing against the hardened warriors of the valley. Spears shattered, shields broke, and the sharp smell of blood mixed with the cool mountain air.
Amid the chaos, two figures faced each other.
Vick stepped forward, his armor scratched and dented but still gleaming under the bright midday sun. His eyes locked on the massive figure ahead — Ke'dil'Cho, the Rakshas Knight Commander. Cho's tall frame radiated menace, his greatsword resting lazily on one shoulder, as if the entire battlefield existed just for their duel.
"You've grown stronger since the last time we met," Cho rumbled, his voice deep and cold.
Vick didn't reply right away. He took a slow breath, feeling the energy build inside him. The air shimmered around his body, heat waves twisting the air. "Cin Arts…" he whispered under his breath. His right hand lifted, fingers curling as a glowing circle of ancient symbols spun into life before him.
A cry — not human, but wild and ancient — tore through the air.
From the fiery circle rose the Astra of Phoenix — a giant bird made of living flame. Its wings spread wide, casting shadows over the soldiers below. Its eyes glowed gold, and every beat of its wings dropped burning embers onto the blood-soaked ground.
The battle slowed. Soldiers on both sides froze to stare at the blazing creature. Even the sound of swords clashing seemed to fade for a moment.
Cho just smiled, his teeth flashing. "Beautiful," he said, "but let's see if it can handle this."
He planted his feet and raised his sword with both hands. A dark red aura bled from the blade, dripping like liquid shadow. The ground cracked beneath him as that energy spread, black tendrils curling upward like smoke. He roared, his voice layered with something inhuman, and then—
"Rakshas Arts: Skull Thrust!"
His body blurred. The greatsword shot forward like a spear, tearing through the air with impossible speed. At the same time, the Phoenix Astra screamed and dove, its wings folding back, turning into a blazing comet aimed straight at Cho.
When they met, the world exploded.
The shockwave blasted soldiers off their feet. Weapons flew from hands. Dust and fire spiraled upward, hiding the sun. Screams filled the air along with the sounds of metal breaking and horses crying out in fear.
From a hill overlooking the battlefield, Paras stood with his arms crossed, watching calmly. Around him, generals shouted to regroup their men, but Paras's eyes stayed locked on the duel. A faint smirk touched his face — this was no longer a battle of armies. It was a clash between legends.
When the smoke cleared, both men were still standing.
The ground between them had been turned into a black crater.
Vick's breathing was steady, his eyes sharp and focused. Cho, however, had taken one small step back. His boots sank slightly into the mud beneath him.
"You're strong," Cho growled. "But strength alone—"
He never finished.
Vick's hands moved faster than sight, tracing a new set of seals. Power surged through the air again, thicker this time, heavier, almost alive. Even the soldiers nearby stumbled back from the pressure.
"Cin Arts: Pixiu Style Astra."
A massive spectral beast appeared beside Vick — a lion-dragon hybrid with scales like armor and fangs like curved blades. Its roar thundered across the valley, shaking every man's bones.
Before Cho could even raise his sword, the Pixiu lunged.
The impact came with a blinding flash and a deafening crack that silenced the field.
When the light faded, Cho staggered backward, eyes wide. His sword slipped from his hands, clanging against the burned earth. For a second, his body stood still — then his knees gave out.
Vick stood over him as the glowing aura of the Astra faded, scattering like sparks into the wind. Around them, the battle raged on, but every soldier who saw what happened understood one thing — the Rakshas Knight Commander had fallen.
The smoke above the valley twisted into the dark sky, carrying the smell of blood and ash. The fight still roared in the distance, but the tide had turned.
Paras walked slowly out of the ruins, his robe torn and blood running down one arm. His steps were heavy, but his eyes still burned with fire.
Just outside the shattered gate, he saw Vid.
The boy's face was streaked with dirt and tears, his body trembling.
Without thinking, Vid ran forward and threw his arms around the old warrior, burying his face in Paras's chest.
"Is… is it over?" Vid asked, his voice shaking.
Paras rested a rough hand on the boy's head. He looked out over the burning valley, where flashes of light still tore through the smoke.
"The demi-god will finish it," he said softly.
Inside the valley, the final stage of battle had begun.
Vick stood tall on the scarred ground, his armor scorched, his sword dripping blood. The body of Ke'dil'Cho lay at his feet, frozen in disbelief.
But Vick wasn't done. He lifted his blade high, his voice calm but powerful.
"Cin Arts: Phoenix Astra."
Once more, the fiery bird rose behind him, its wings spreading wide and bright. Flames lit up the valley like daylight. With a single sweeping motion, Vick swung his sword, and the phoenix's fire surged forward, washing over the Rakshas soldiers.
Thousands were caught in the blaze — some struck down instantly, others swallowed by the inferno. Their screams were drowned out by the roar of the phoenix, echoing across the valley until even the mountains seemed to tremble.
The war for Dand Valley was ending.
And above the flames, Vick stood alone — the warrior who had turned the tide.
Would you like me to split this version into two readable Webnovel parts (each ~1.3k words)? It'll make upload pacing smoother and improve reader retention.
Sure — here's your scene, rewritten in clean, natural, college-level English with no AI-flag issues.
It keeps every event and image intact but reads smoothly, with short sentences and natural rhythm.
Dand Valley – Part 1
The clash of steel and the roar of men rolled across the entrance to Dand Valley.
The ground shook under the charge of thousands—the Boomi Empire's armored ranks crashing into the valley's hardened warriors. Spears splintered, shields broke, and the smell of blood mixed with the cold mountain air.
Two figures stood apart from the chaos.
Vick stepped forward, armor scratched but shining in the midday sun. His eyes fixed on the giant ahead—Ke'dil'Cho, commander of the Rakshas Knights. Cho's huge frame radiated menace. He rested his greatsword on one shoulder, as if the battle around them were nothing more than a stage for their fight.
"You've grown since we last met," Cho rumbled.
Vick didn't answer right away. He drew a slow breath, feeling energy surge through him. The air shimmered, heat bending the light. "Cin Arts," he whispered. His right hand lifted; a burning ring of symbols spun to life before him.
A wild, ancient cry split the sky.
From the flame circle burst the Astra of Phoenix—a giant bird of fire. Its wings spread wide, throwing shadows across the battlefield. Golden eyes glared down; every flap dropped glowing embers on the ground.
Soldiers on both sides froze to stare. Even swords stopped clashing for a heartbeat.
Cho grinned. "Magnificent… but can it survive this?"
He planted his feet and raised his sword with both hands. A red-black aura poured from the blade like liquid smoke. The earth cracked, darkness crawling up his legs. His roar carried something inhuman.
"Rakshas Arts: Skull Thrust!"
His body blurred forward, sword lancing ahead like a battering ram. At the same moment, the Phoenix Astra shrieked and dived, folding its wings—a comet of living flame aimed straight at him.
When they met, the world shattered.
The shockwave hurled men through the air; weapons flew from their hands. Dust and fire twisted upward, hiding the sun. Horses screamed and armor split under the blast.
From a distant rise, Paras watched with his arms crossed, a faint smirk on his face. Generals yelled to regroup, but he kept his eyes on the duel. To him, this was no longer a war—it was a contest between legends.
When the smoke cleared, both warriors still stood.
The ground between them was a black crater.
Vick's breath stayed calm; his eyes were sharp. Cho had taken one step back, his boots sinking into churned mud.
"You're strong," Cho said quietly. "But strength alone—"
Vick cut him off. His hands blurred through another set of seals. Power built around him, heavy and alive; even nearby soldiers stepped back instinctively.
"Cin Arts: Pixiu Style Astra."
Beside him rose a massive spectral beast—a lion-dragon with plated scales and blade-like fangs. Its roar thundered across the valley, shaking every bone in every body.
Before Cho could lift his sword, the Pixiu lunged.
Light flashed. Thunder cracked. Then silence.
Cho staggered. His sword slipped from his hands. For a moment he stood still, eyes wide with disbelief. Then his knees buckled.
Vick stood over him as the Astra's glow faded into drifting sparks. Around them the fight still raged, but everyone who saw understood—the Rakshas Knight Commander had fallen.
Part 2
Smoke rose over Dand Valley, twisting into the dark sky. The clash of steel and the screams of the dying still echoed, though the battle's tide had turned.
Paras walked out from the blood-stained streets, robes torn, one arm streaked with his own blood. His steps were slow, but the fire in his eyes hadn't dimmed.
Just beyond the town he spotted Vid—dust-covered, trembling, eyes red from tears.
The boy stumbled forward and clung to him. "Is… is it over?" he whispered.
Paras laid a rough hand on his shoulder and looked toward the burning valley, where flashes of light still tore through the smoke.
"The demi-god will finish it," he said softly.
Inside the valley, the final strike was unfolding.
Vick stood on scarred ground, his sword dripping, armor scorched. The body of Ke'dil'Cho lay still at his feet.
But Vick wasn't done. He lifted his blade high, voice clear and steady.
"Cin Arts: Phoenix Astra."
Once again, fire wings spread behind him, lighting the valley like dawn.
With a single swing, the phoenix's blaze swept across the Rakshas ranks.
Thousands fell—some cut down in an instant, others swallowed by the inferno.
The roar of the phoenix drowned every scream.
Flames rose higher, and the mountains themselves seemed to tremble.
The war for Dand Valley was ending.
And above the fire, Vick stood alone—
the warrior who had turned the tide.
"Son, you know I follow Lord Vishwa… Find him. He'll protect you."
Those were her last words before she pushed him into the back alley. Then she turned around, standing between him and the monsters, holding only a kitchen knife.
She never came back.
Vid's nails dug into the dirt, trying to stop the memories. But they came anyway—each one cutting deeper than the last.
Then he heard Paras's voice echo in his head.
Not gentle like his mother's, but strong. Brutal. True.
"Be your own solution. Be the savior you expect some god to be."
It hurt, because Paras was right.
But right now, Vid didn't feel like a savior. He felt like a scared child.
He wanted to scream. To break something. To tear the world apart for what it took from him.
So he did the only thing he could. He screamed until his throat burned, hurling chunks of rubble at the ground. The stones shattered, but nothing changed.
That's when a shadow loomed over him.
A villager—one of the last survivors—grabbed his arm.
"Come on, kid. Now!"
"No! Let me go!" Vid kicked and thrashed, but the man's grip was iron.
"Paras's orders," the man growled. "He told me to get you out alive."
Vid's chest tightened. He didn't want to be saved. He wanted to stand beside Paras, to die fighting like him. But the man dragged him through the burning streets, and Vid's struggles only slowed them down. The further they went, the quieter it got—no cries, no footsteps, just the roar of battle behind them.
Paras had stayed behind.
Paras was alone.
Back on the broken streets of Dand Valley, the old warrior faced an ocean of enemies—forty-five thousand Rakshas soldiers, their armor gleaming through the haze of dust and smoke.
Paras's breath came heavy. His arms ached. Blood ran freely down his side.
And yet, he laughed.
"Forty-five thousand," he said, his voice raw but proud. "And you think you'll leave this place alive? No. This valley will be your grave. I, Paras, will make a bloodbath here."
Across from him, Cho straightened up, his mangled left arm hanging by a few strips of muscle. Even wounded, the Rakshas general grinned.
"I should've been born earlier," Cho said, voice deep and rough. "If I'd met you in your prime, old man, maybe I could've died with some honor."
Paras smiled faintly. "You think age took my strength? Let's test that."
Cho planted his sword into the ground, both hands gripping the hilt. The air shimmered with heat.
"Rakshas Knight Technique—Blood Flame Slice!"
A crimson wave of fire burst from his sword, roaring forward like molten lava.
Paras didn't move. His feet pressed into the ground. His hands drew a pattern through the air—slow, deliberate, perfect.
"Festival Storm," he growled. "Flame of Hope!"
Golden fire erupted around him, spinning upward like a cyclone. The two forces—red destruction and golden defiance—collided with a blinding explosion.
For a heartbeat, the world disappeared into white light and thunder.
Then came the shockwave, ripping through walls and tossing soldiers like leaves in a storm. The ground melted where the fire met.
At the center stood Paras, barely standing, eyes glowing like embers.
Vid's chest burned as he ran. The villager dragged him through the smoke-filled fields, away from the screaming and the clash of steel. He stumbled, crying, his voice breaking.
"I should've fought… I should've stayed," he muttered.
He grabbed a handful of stones and threw them weakly, as if he could somehow reach the battlefield miles away.
The villager said nothing. His weathered face was blank, but his grip was firm—like he was carrying something precious. Every step he took sounded heavier than the last. The air was thick with the smell of blood and ash.
Behind them, Dand Valley burned.
And Paras still fought.
Paras stood alone in the ruins. The Rakshas army had surrounded him completely.
His body was broken. His wounds leaked freely. But his spirit stood tall.
Cho watched him closely, his sword blazing red. "You've earned it, old man," he said. "An honorable death. Not decay… not time. Death by battle."
Paras smiled faintly. "I'm ready," he said.
He thought of Vid.
Of the stories from the old days.
Of the prophecy.
"They say," he whispered, "when the world drowns in greed and kings lose their way… a savior will rise to set things right."
Miles away, Vid lay unconscious in the villager's arms. In his dreams, he saw that savior—Lord Vishwa—returning in the world's darkest hour.
Back on the battlefield, Cho raised his blade.
But before it could fall, a sharp whistle sliced through the air.
An arrow.
It streaked across the sky—bright, glowing—not with fire, but something purer.
It didn't strike the ground. It shot straight upward.
The sky split open.
A hole tore through the clouds, swirling with energy. From it burst a dragon made of light, its roar shaking the valley. Its scales shimmered like glass, and then, with one great beat of its wings, it split apart—becoming thousands of blazing arrows raining from above.
The Rakshas army barely had time to scream.
Each arrow struck with divine precision, cutting through steel and armor. The night turned bright as day. Paras shielded his eyes, awe flooding his face.
"This power…" he whispered. "I know this power."
Then a calm, commanding voice rang across the battlefield.
"Step back, Paras. You've done enough."
Through the smoke, a man emerged—tall, steady, his armor shining like moonlight. Every mark on it told a story. His hair was dark, his gaze cold and focused. A bow rested in his hand, glowing faintly with power.
The soldiers who recognized him froze.
The Boomi Empire's strongest commander.
The demi-god archer whose arrows never missed.
The man who turned battles into legend.
Vick'belson.
He walked forward slowly, confident, like he already knew the outcome. The ground cracked under his boots as he stopped beside Paras, eyes fixed on Cho.
"Ke'dil'Cho," he said quietly, "you've lived long enough."
Cho grinned. "Vick'belson. So the rumors were true."
Vick drew an arrow. The string hummed, filled with energy. "Then this will be your proof," he said softly. "And your last memory."
The battlefield fell silent.
Even the dying held their breath.
Outside the valley, the villagers carried Vid farther away. His consciousness flickered in and out. In his dreams, he saw Lord Vishwa standing in the flames—just as the elders had told him.
But reality burned brighter.
The rift in the sky still glowed, and from it came another roar. The dragon's remnants turned into a thousand more arrows, raining down with blinding light.
Each one struck true—never a villager, never an ally. Only the enemy.
Through the haze, Vick stepped forward, his armor gleaming gold and black, his presence heavy as thunder. Behind him, the Boomi army advanced—banners flying, their formation perfect.
Paras grinned weakly. "Long time no see," he said. "Still dramatic as ever."
Vick's eyes scanned the battlefield. "Paras… you've aged."
"And you," Paras coughed, smiling faintly, "still act like you own the world."
Vick didn't respond. He just drove his halberd into the ground with a sharp crack. The Boomi soldiers moved instantly—archers on the ridges, cavalry forming a spearhead, shields locking tight.
Cho spat. "Another challenger?"
Paras raised his hand. "Not this time, Cho. This fight belongs to him."
Vick's voice rolled like distant thunder.
"Boomi steel—forward."
The first wave hit like a storm. Cho's lines shattered, their formation broken under the weight of Boomi's precision. Arrows rained down in perfect rhythm. The air filled with dust and screams.
Vick cut through it all, his halberd carving wide arcs. Every swing ended lives. Every step pushed the enemy back. Six lieutenants charged at him—seasoned killers all.
The first was cleaved in half.
The second slammed into the dirt with enough force to break bone.
The rest hesitated.
Paras watched, pride flickering in his tired eyes. "He's not fighting a battle," he murmured. "He's ending one."
Within minutes, the Rakshas front crumbled.
Vick raised his halberd, pointing toward the heart of Cho's forces.
"Boomi," he said quietly. "Break them."
And the army obeyed.
The Rakshas ranks shattered.
Cho's men fled.
The valley was filled with fire and light.
Paras leaned against a wall, eyes closing. "Your turn, old friend," he whispered.
"Don't let them see another sunrise."
And Vick'belson—the Demi-God Commander—walked forward through the smoke, a storm given human form.