Imposter (2)

The battle erupted in an instant.

Akira had already activated Soul Infusion, his body surging with raw power as his aura expanded outward. At the same time, Sylara surrounded the Panthosword with a vibrant glow of violet energy, her eyes sharp and focused as she invoked her Volio Energy skill.

The blade hummed with an overwhelming force, reacting to its wielder's intent.

"Be careful!"

Sylara warned, her voice tight with caution.

"We can't determine his rank like the Stars. Demonic humans don't use mana like us—they draw from an entirely different energy source. That makes their strength unreadable!"

Akira's glowing white eyes flickered with intensity. "I know."

Without another word, he burst forward, his movement nearly imperceptible. His fist met the demonic human's with an earth-shattering impact, sending shockwaves rippling through the underground parking.

"Whoa!" The demonic human smirked, barely fazed. "Your speed and strength are no joke."

Despite his taunt, Sylara was already moving. Her form flickered—disappearing and reappearing behind him in a fraction of a second. The Panthosword pulsed with lethal intent, the violet energy surging across its blade as she swung with deadly precision.

"Die, you fucker!" she snarled, pouring every ounce of rage into her strike.

But the demonic human twisted at the last second, his movements eerily fluid. He dodged effortlessly, grinning. "Whoa there, calm down. That was a bit dangerous."

His crimson eyes flickered with amusement as he gestured toward Sylara.

"My priority is him. You're just a nuisance."

His finger pointed at her, dismissing her as if she were insignificant. But before he could react further, Akira was upon him again.

In midair, Akira's dark hair lifted slightly, white lightning crackling around him like a storm.

His white color eyes gleamed with raw power as he whispered under his breath, "White Lightning."

A flash of blinding light surged as Akira unleashed his attack, white lightning striking down with fury.

The demonic human barely managed to escape the full force of the strike, but it wasn't a clean dodge—his hand sizzled and burned, the sickening scent of scorched flesh filling the air. He landed several meters away, shaking his hand as if to rid himself of the pain.

"Tch… You actually hit me." His voice, once playful, now held a slight edge of irritation.

His gaze darkened as he raised his injured hand, showing Akira and Sylara the damage. The burn seared deep, blackened veins crawling across his skin.

"Do you really think something like this is a problem for a demonic human of my rank?"

His tone turned darker, dripping with arrogance.

"You must be delusional. A demonic human like me, one who has reached a higher rank, is beyond something as trivial as pain. Unlike the weakling you killed before—he was nothing more than the lowest rank an X-Rank. I, however…"

He took a step forward, his presence swelling. "I am a XX-Rank. My rank can regenerate endlessly. Your attacks are useless. Watch and learn."

A dark, unnatural energy began to swirl around his burned hand. Black mist snaked through the air, crackling ominously as it attempted to mend the wound.

But nothing happened.

The demonic human froze. His confident smirk faltered. His wound remained.

His crimson eyes widened in disbelief. "Huh? What is this?"

The black energy flickered and dissipated, failing to heal the burn left by Akira's White Lightning. A creeping sense of dread settled over the demonic human as realization dawned on him.

"I… I can't regenerate?"

For the first time, doubt crept into his expression.

The demonic human staggered back, his crimson eyes darting to his hand—the wound still raw, the blackened veins refusing to mend.

His mind raced.

"Why isn't healing? Why can't I regenerate?"

For the first time, doubt crept into his expression. The demonic human was supposed to be untouchable their wounds closing before they even felt pain. Yet now, something was wrong. Something was deeply wrong.

Meanwhile, Sylara turned to Akira.

"He claimed he could regenerate, but it didn't work. Maybe something is interfering with his ability. Luck is on our side." Her violet eyes gleamed with determination.

"We need to finish this while he's still in shock and we still have to keep an eye at the dungeon behind us."

Akira, however, was lost in thought. "I'm giving every ounce of my mental strength to stay calm right now. My body is screaming at me to charge in, to finish this, but I can't lose my focus. This bastards said the one I defeated before… was a low rank?

"At that time, if I hadn't caught him off guard, he would have destroyed me."A bitter taste filled his mouth as the reality settled in. "How strong are they really? And just how much stronger do I need to become to kill them all?"

But this one—this so-called XX-Rank—his regeneration wasn't working.

"This is my chance," Akira muttered before answering Sylara.

"I need him alive. There are too many questions I need answered."

Sylara exhaled sharply. "Right."

Without another word, both STARS launched themselves forward again.

Akira struck first, his movements precise and brutal, forcing the demonic human to stay on the defensive. His opponent's dodging became more frantic, his reactions slower. His mind was still distracted by the inexplicable failure of his regeneration.

Sylara seized the moment, vanishing into a blur of speed. The Panthosword found its mark, carving a deep wound across the demonic human back.

"Time to end this," Sylara hissed, pressing her advantage. "All that bluffing, all that arrogance—you're nothing."

She slashed again, forcing him to retreat, his body now marred with deep cuts. His breath came in ragged gasps, blood dripping onto the cracked pavement beneath him. But despite his injuries, he chuckled, shaking his head.

"A rank is A rank after all…" He murmured under his breath, more to himself than to them.

Then it happened.

The black energy flared to life once more.

Sylara's violet eyes widened in horror as she watched the wounds she had inflicted close in an instant, the torn flesh knitting back together as if they had never existed.

"What the hell?" she gasped. "His regeneration works now?"

Akira's sharp eyes remained locked on the demonic human. His hand, however, remained burned—the only part of his body that had not healed.

Sylara clenched her jaw. "Why were my attacks healed, but yours weren't?"

Akira's gaze sharpened. His mind worked quickly, analyzing the situation. "Wait…"

"Sylara's attacks have completely healed. But his burned hand is still scorched."

Akira's eyes flickered with realization. "Oh… I think I get it now."

Sylara turned to him. "What? What's going on?"

"I don't know why, but he can't regenerate from my White Lightning attacks."

He gestured toward the demonic human's hand. "Look at it. His wounds healed… but not the burn. My White Lightning can kill him"

Silence.

Then—laughter.

A deep, eerie, twisted laugh echoed from the demonic human. His crimson eyes gleamed with newfound excitement.

"HAHAHAHA! I hate to admit it, but you're right!" His voice carried a manic thrill. "Only that lightning of yours is a problem! I don't know why, but it's the only thing that stops my regeneration!"

His smirk widened into something crazed.

"Now I get it i just need to be careful from your bolts." He lifted his hand, testing his fingers. Though still burned, he barely seemed to care.

His grin stretched wider, his aura flaring violently. "Now that I know what to avoid… this fight is already over.

His crimson eyes locked onto Akira.