In a chamber crowded with exiles, Kraven clasped the wiry hand of a slender, four-armed humanoid, his voice reverberating through the vaulted hall. "We are happy to work with Fractsidus."
BANG!
A deafening explosion tore through the chamber, shaking its foundations as dust rained from the cracked ceiling.
"BOSS!"
The massive doors flew open as an exile stumbled in, panic etched into every fiber of his being. His voice cracked, trembling. "Boss! Boss, that child—"
Swoosh—
A blade whistled through the chaos, striking the back of his skull. The sickening crack echoed as his body jerked violently, then crumpled forward, lifeless, words choked off mid-cry.
The hall fell silent, all eyes drawn to the doorway as awe and terror rippled through the crowd, mingling in a fragile, electric current.
What had once been a path of grandeur now lay in ruin. The floor and stairs to the main hall were scorched and fractured, as if the world itself had been set ablaze, drowning in a molten, saffron haze.
The buzzing hive of exiles whispered only of carnage. Charred corpses of exiles and Fractsidus alike, shattered weapons, lay tattered on the scorched earth.
"Who is so brazen?" Kraven bellowed in fury as another whistling sound sliced the air as a sword flew toward him.
He dodged swiftly, a snicker escaping with a quiet, "Hmm," just as a painful cry echoed: "Argh!"
Kraven glanced over his shoulder as a member of Fractsidus crumpled beneath the whistling sword, when a sudden warmth traced down his side.
Instinctively, he brought his hand to it — and froze, realization crashing through him — the slick, hot weight of his own blood coating his fingers.
'I didn't dodge that?!' he thought, his face etched with anger and annoyance.
His gaze swept over the scorched earth, narrowing as a boy emerged from the smoke-choked, blazing entrance, each step marked by the ominous chime of bells—Cling—Chime—Cling—Chime—
The boy's tattered, burnt garments fluttered like dying flames, embers clinging to him, crawling across his form like living threads, forging a cloak of fury and ruin.
His exposed right eye glimmered through the haze, while a dark, crimson-stained cloth shrouded his left.
At his chest, a broken blade had carved a deep wound, ribs twitching with the relentless pulse of a heart that refused to surrender.
Each impaled weapon was a paradox — a conduit of agony coursing through him, yet also the fragile scaffold holding the gore in check, preventing him from bleeding out.
"Haah." He drew a ragged breath, the groan of fractured ribs echoing like a drum of war, before roaring: "KRAVEN! YOUR SON HAS RETURNED!"
***
"What the hell happened to you?" one of the Underdogs — a member of Calcharo's crew — demanded as he noticed the swollen bruise on Calcharo's chin.
"Nothing happened." Calcharo brushed him off, his eyes flickering as he replayed earlier events in the dungeon.
After quickly dealing with the exiles, Kurian had commanded, "Leave."
"Where are you going?" Calcharo asked, and Kurian simply replied, "To clear my mind."
Calcharo tried to reason, saying, "Don't lie! I know you're looking for a fight. You should leave; you can't take on Resonators."
But Kurian merely agreed, "You're right, I can't fight them," and then added, "Since I'm going to kill them."
He took a step, but… "Wait!" Calcharo seized his wrist. "Don't be rash! Just get out of here for now."
Kurian didn't struggle, a silent sign he was at least listening, and Calcharo continued, his voice softer now as he recalled, "I don't know what you've been through, but… fighting now isn't a smart move."
"How about…" Calcharo hesitated, forcing the words out, "how about you join my crew — the Underdogs?"
"I want blood," Kurian coldly responded.
"You're not even a Resonator!" Calcharo snapped. "You may have surprised those fools, but the others wouldn't have fallen so easily."
"I don't plan to." Kurian wrenched his wrist free and raised his arm, revealing the bells. "See these? I'll make sure they know when I'm coming."
With that, he began to move again — but suddenly, he curled his wrist and swung it over his shoulder as Calcharo dodged the punch.
"Sorry for this, but I cannot let you do something so suicidal!" Calcharo shouted, pressing his palm against Kurian's back.
A lethal surge of electricity tore through Kurian's nerves — not enough to kill, but enough to paralyze him momentarily.
But Kurian was ready. He drove his curled fist into his chest, forcing his natural pacemaker to keep beating against the electrical interference.
Calcharo's eyes widened, a flash of realization striking him: 'Wait… that punch wasn't for me?'
"No, but this one is," As if reading his thoughts, Kurian responded, as Calcharo saw, and felt a devastating uppercut on his chin from Kurian's free hand.
Calcharo was thrown back, crashing hard against the ground. He writhed in pain, clutching his jaw as the thought burned through his mind: 'Gah! it hurts… How can he possess such strength?'
"Consider this mercy," Kurian said coldly.
Calcharo's hand shot out, gripping Kurian's ankle. His voice trembled but carried urgency. "You should run, Kurian. You may have taken me and those exiles down, but those others… those men will kill you."
"I am no coward," Kurian replied, his tone flat, and his patience fraying. "And I don't need a lecture from someone who just lost to me."
"Don't overestimate yourself!" Calcharo bellowed. "Also, I'm not calling you a coward or lecturing you. I'm warning you. They will kill you."
Kurian's head tilted slightly, eyes narrowing as his voice rose. "What if…" He tore free from Calcharo's grasp, then crouched low, locking his gaze with Calcharo's. "What if I didn't run? What if I'm not a coward?"
He leaned closer, his words trembling with restrained fury. "What if I want them to kill me? What if I want them… to try?"
A shiver passed through Calcharo as he recalled the earlier incident, but soon his eyes hardened in resolve. He turned to his remaining comrades and said, "Let's go get a troublesome rookie."
***
Standing before the congregation of Eilis and Fractsidus, Kurian — battered and tattered — had but one thought: 'My back hurts.'
The wounds and impalements mattered less than the searing pain in his back.
"Heh!" A soft chuckle slipped from his throat as the faces of his soldiers flickered through his mind.
Those fools — eyes hanging loose, teeth knocked free, ribs splintered, muscles torn, sometimes with half their bodies threatening to come apart — always smiled, joking about cheating death.
For Kurian, his present battered state was everyday business in his former life. Besides, what stung the soldiers far more than driven blades or shattered bones were the barbs from their wives.
He remembered how Eden would always flare with worry whenever he stepped outside to push back the demonic tide.
'I feel right at home,' a strange thought struck Kurian, as his current pain mirrored his life in his past world.
"HAHAHAHA!" Kraven's laugh cut through Kurian's thoughts. "So, you were putting on a show, were you? Striding in here alone — you've got guts, brat." He glanced at Kurian. "Skewered guts, that is."
Kurian simply moved forward as the exiles raised their blades, however, Kraven stopped them. "Halt! He came for me, and I will be the one to hunt him."
Kraven closed on Kurian, jeering. "Tell me, pretender, is this another performance, or the real you?"
"Whatever I am," Kurian said with iron certainty, "you will die a very horrible death today."
"Ha!" Kraven sneered. "Take this as fatherly advice, kid: only make threats if you can carry them out."
Kurian lifted his hands — his left combing his long hair back while his right reached for the sword at his back, which was driven into his flesh.
As though drawing it from a scabbard, he hauled the blade free and, in that same motion, severed the long hair he'd gathered in his fist.
Impressed by Kurian's steadiness, Kraven jeered, "Now this fight is getting exciting."
"Then why be polite?" Kurian replied, pointing his sword at him. "Unsheathe your weapon and attack."
Kraven swiftly drew his sword, his pace quickening, and leapt into the air, shouting, "Surely!"
As Kraven's blade came crashing like a comet, Kurian dug in his heel, deflecting it with a precise swat before delivering a brutal kick to Kraven's solar plexus.
"Kugh!" Kraven staggered.
Going airborne to attack had been harshly punished by Kurian's counter. Their next exchange began, as Kraven came charging like a bull.
Kurian too, picked up his pace to match him as behind their masks, the onlookers — the Exiles and the Fractsidus — frowned, astonished at how fiercely this kid ran into the fight despite his injuries.
CLANG!
Their swords collided, groaning under stress.
Crack—krrak!
Fractures spidered along their blades, causing Kraven to frown, disbelief flashing in his eyes. 'How did that runt manage to damage my sword with that piece of scrap?'
Blades clashed again and again, sparks flying as fractures spread like lightning.
Kraven gritted his teeth. 'His techniques are more refined than mine… but... how does he know such swordplay?'
It didn't take long for Kraven to realize that, despite Kurian wielding a low-quality weapon, his skill far outclassed Kraven's.
"Hah…" Kurian breathed, eyes locked on his opponent.
"Hmm," Kraven muttered, tension coiling in his shoulders.
Their swords collided one final time — then shattered.
Both discarded ruined weapons and closed the distance, fists and grapples replacing blades. Kraven swung a reverse fist, but Kurian angled it aside effortlessly.
In one fluid motion, he grabbed Kraven's wrist, threaded his other hand under the arm, clasped the biceps, and executed a brutal judo slam, sending Kraven crashing to the floor.
"Hmm?!" Kurian's eyes flickered as Kraven launched a bicycle kick, causing Kurian to stagger back.
Suddenly, the temperature dropped. Kurian's gaze narrowed, as ice chains coiled through the hall like hungry serpents.
Kraven pointed towards Kurian, and the icy tendrils surged forward, tipped with jagged spearheads aimed at him.
But Kurian's expression remained calm; his honed, Static Eyes tracked the attack, finding gaps in the assault. With deft precision, he slipped and weaved around the piercing strikes.
Kraven's eyes narrowed as he sent another chain toward Kurian as his legs twitched.
Kurian barely dodged, when Kraven suddenly appeared behind him, Kurian responded with a reverse sweep of his fist, spinning around, but Kraven had simply ducked, anticipating the counterattack.
Kurian rained punches in rapid succession, each one met with Kraven's expert evasions. As he evaded, the ice chains began to inconspicuously coil around Kurian, ready to tighten like constricting snakes.
Kraven stepped back, eyes cold and calculating, and motioned for the chains to constrict further. Within moments, Kurian found himself ensnared in a binding lattice of icy chains, every movement hindered by the merciless grip of frozen steel.
"Heh!" Kraven sneered, launching his counterattack as he closed in.
But having endured such chains before, Kurian moved in a wild, fluid dance — his motions unpredictable, almost hypnotic — twisting the constricting chains around himself until they turned on their master, ensnaring Kraven as well.
Kraven hissed, before commanding the chains to vanish. He followed with a roundhouse kick aimed at Kurian's solar plexus — boom — dust puffed as the impact reverberated through Kurian's skin and muscles.
"Hmm…" Kurian gritted through the pain, seizing Kraven's leg, lifting him up before slamming him to the ground.
Not willing to yield in this contest of endurance, Kraven lashed out with a kick toward Kurian's cheek, throwing him off balance. Yet, in one seamless motion, Kurian spun and delivered a horizontal chop mid-flip.
Kraven felt Kurian's nail slice through his flesh as he staggered back. When he glanced at Kurian again, he froze: Kurian stood upside down, his entire weight supported only by his pinky nail.
Kurian's gaze shifted to Kraven and his wounds, his silent eyes speaking volumes, as if to say: "Take a look, my nails alone are enough to kill you."
Suddenly, Kurian's eyes narrowed, and with a breathtaking display of acrobatics, he launched himself into the air, his right hand forming into a lethal claws.
Mimicking Kraven from earlier, he struck like a comet, raking Kraven's face, leaving new streaks of blood as Kurian's nails plunged deep, carving brutal marks on his face.
Kraven's face slammed into the ground, his cheekbones and jaw shattering beneath the force of the blow.
A white-hot agony ripped through him as if his skull were being torn apart, and when he blinked everything blurred — his vision had gone clouded; damaged by Kurian's assault.
Now, he could only make out the silhouettes, one standing out sharply to the eye — Kurian, who was steadily advancing toward him.
Desperation flared in his heart as he spun his head and caught the shadowed shapes of his men, the Fractsidus troops, tense and poised.
Through gritted teeth he barked, "What are you staring at? Kill him!"
To be continued...