Terror was visible in everyone's eyes.
Except in the eyes of the king.
Dante walked slowly away from the battle area, as if the destruction behind him were merely a detail.
Flames devoured the scenery, the ground trembled, and the muffled screams of pain seemed distant to him.
— Azaroth must have finished with the tree by now — he murmured. — If he's done… I can begin the final stage.
But something made him stop.
On the other side of the field, covered in blood, dust, and tears, was Elara.
The youngest of the group.
The unlikely one.
She was crying, but not from fear.
It was pain.
Rage.
Faith.
Her hand trembled, but she still firmly held the spiritual arrow.
She was gathering an unusual energy—something Dante hadn't expected.
In the last few minutes, Elara had sealed 40% of the king's energy.
But the most impressive thing wasn't the seal.
It was the fact that, somehow, she had absorbed part of that energy for herself.
A feat few would dare imagine.
The Percentage Shot technique was cruel, but effective.
With each arrow, a percentage of the opponent's energy was sealed.
And in Dante's case, whose aura was colossal, each arrow drained only 10%.
But there was a catch.
On the eleventh arrow, with 100% sealed, the enemy's spirit would disintegrate.
An immediate death.
Elara had fired four.
Four shots, four thefts.
With the 40% already in hand, she could execute a single shot—incomplete, but devastating.
A shot that, if completed with 60% of her own soul, would have the impact of a world's end.
And she was about to fire.
Above Haruto, Amina, and Kael, a colossal rock of fire floated, spinning in slow circles.
An inevitable execution.
They were paralyzed—not by fear, but by a spatial distortion caused by Dante.
Like insects trapped in amber.
Kael desperately tried to conjure an ice wall.
But nothing came.
No sound.
No wind.
Nothing.
That's when Dante stopped.
He felt it.
Elara's energy was becoming… something more.
Elara planted her feet on the burned ground.
Every part of her body screamed.
Every heartbeat hurt.
Blood streamed down her forehead, her arms, her mouth.
But her eyes were steady.
She was no longer crying from weakness.
She cried by choice.
Out of love.
In that instant, she was no longer the girl from the garden, who failed tests and was forgotten in training.
She was the guardian of the final shot.
She remembered when she met Haruto.
The day he, the most respected warrior of the order, stood before her and said:
"You see targets no one else sees. And that… is a gift."
Elara had found friends.
She had found purpose.
And now she was about to meet her end.
She aimed.
The ethereal bow trembled with the accumulated energy.
Every second cost more of her soul.
The cataclysm descended.
The flaming rock approached.
They could feel the heat burning even the sky.
And then she drew the string.
She pulled with such force that her muscles tore inside.
Her entire body groaned.
As if it would split in two.
She fired.
Time split.
The arrow cut through the air like a silver lightning bolt.
But Dante was already in front of her.
No one saw when he moved.
Only the result.
His arm pierced through Elara's chest like a spear.
A clean strike.
She spat blood, and her vision darkened for a second.
But she didn't look at him.
She looked behind.
At the sky.
The arrow had hit the rock.
And it didn't destroy it—it fragmented it.
A single death transformed into a thousand lesser shocks.
Chaos diluted into chances.
Flames exploded in the sky.
The wave of fire swept the landscape like a demon in agony.
Dante looked at her, indifferent.
— A commendable effort, I'd say. Your power is problematic.
Thank you… for releasing my strength back.
He bent down.
Put his lips near her ear.
— They'll die anyway.
Then he pulled his hand back.
Elara screamed—not from pain, but from rage.
From soul.
Blood gushed like ink onto the ground.
And she fell.
But before that… she smiled.
Because behind Dante, amidst the flames and debris… three silhouettes emerged.
Staggering. Wounded. Burned.
Haruto. Amina. Kael.
They were alive.
Elara saw.
And her heart rested.
She had won.
Her body collapsed with a dull thud.
Like a flower crushed in the midst of the storm.
The field fell silent.
Only the crackling of flames and the distorted winds.
Haruto stared fixedly at Dante.
Without words.
Without expression.
Fury frozen on his face.
Amina breathed with difficulty, pressing her chest.
Kael fell to his knees.
Eyes glazed over.
Dante took two steps forward.
Opened his arms, like a host at a feast.
— Don't be shy.
You can come closer.
I'll pierce you just like I did her.
— It'll be quick.
The horizon bled in flames.
The king's aura, now freed from all limitations, tore through the skies like a spiritual storm. It was impossible to look directly at Dante without feeling one's own bones tremble—his power was complete, absolute, crushing. A living wall of energy and heat that bent the air around him.
And yet, the three advanced.
Without hesitation.
Like living arrows shot by fate.
Amina led, eyes closed and body consumed by her spiritual essence. Gigantic and small serpents sprouted from her skin, summoned in a frantic sequence—each moving with coordinated motions like a dance of death. The earth trembled under the weight of the largest ones, while the smaller ones cut through the air in hypnotic zigzags.
Haruto appeared to the left, masterfully dodging a sudden explosion of black flames as he leaped between pieces of the broken field. Each step left a trail of bluish energy, his concentration unshakable.
Kael, to the right, slid with almost feline precision. His eyes focused like blades, his frozen aura surrounding his body—a reflection of ice and fury.
The fight to the death resumed.
But now… there was no room for reserves.
There were no more second chances.
Dante felt the first impact—Haruto's fist striking his chest with contained force, but with a strange vibration. The king recoiled for a moment, not from the blow itself, but from the sensation that came with it.
"What is this?" he murmured, eyes narrowing as he dodged another punch.
"He's just exchanging blows with me… and yet it's affecting my flow?"
Another blow from Haruto—this time on the shoulder—and Dante felt the heat of his spiritual energy flicker for a fraction of a second.
"Has his technique evolved… or was it always like this?" he thought.
Without warning, Kael appeared at his rear. A spinning kick, wreathed in ice crystals, struck Dante's ribs with brutality. The impact echoed like thunder.
Dante was thrown sideways—and before he even hit the ground, ice lances materialized above him like lightning bolts of destruction, sharp and fast. They pierced the air with a cutting scream, seeking the king's blood.
But he roared. A primal, animalistic roar.
Black flames exploded from his body like an infernal eruption, expanding into a destructive sphere that dissipated the lances, disintegrated the smaller serpents, and burned part of the terrain below.
— Interesting technique, yours, — Dante said, regaining his balance in the air. — All of you, actually.
— He's figured it out… — Haruto murmured.
The king's mind began to decipher.
Haruto's technique functioned like spiritual symbiosis: the longer he exchanged blows with someone, the more his body adapted to the opponent's energy flow. It was as if Haruto's own soul was invading Dante's spiritual code.
A spiritual hacker.
He not only understood the flow's functioning—he could manipulate it. Slowly, with calculated touches, he corrupted the enemy's technique conjuration. An invisible, but deadly, interference.
Below Dante, the ground cracked… and then gave way.
— Again? — he snarled, floating to avoid being sucked in.
— You won't change anything by repeating the same attack, — Dante vociferated. — Again and again!
Suddenly, a snake shot from the mist. Dante dodged with an agile leap.
But it was at that exact moment that he felt it.
Something burning, sticky, foul…
Poison.
A dense, dark liquid splashed over his arm and part of his torso. The immediate contact made his skin blister. His eyes burned as if on fire inside.
— What…?
It was real poison—not spiritual, but physical. Lethal. Injected with precision.
His flesh melted. Muscles vibrated with pain. The black flames protecting him wavered, trying to quickly heal the wounds. But the acid penetrated deep.
Dante instinctively retreated—several meters in a straight line, leaving deep marks in the ground with his feet as he exhaled black smoke.
The mist dissipated.
And then, she appeared.
A colossal snake, with silver scales and violet eyes, took shape before him. Amina, now transformed. Her fusion with the serpents reached its peak—not just a summoner, but a living entity of toxin and nature.
Behind her, Haruto, with hands pulsing blue, and Kael, with crystals forming claws around his fists.
Dante stared at them.
Silent.
Attentive.
And for a moment… he retreated.
Even if he wouldn't admit it, he saw what stood before him:
The titans of the modern era.
They weren't just fighting.
They were surpassing limits.
Going beyond 100%.
Bodies at the limit.
Souls burning.
Hearts determined to fall… if necessary, as long as he fell with them.
To be continued…