Sixty-four: Stormfall Expression

Northbook Court Mall,

Northbook, Illinois,

Terra, Gaea Solar system,

Neutral Free zone,

March 27th 2019

Blood splattered onto the dirt with every heaving breath Sam took, her trembling figure struggling to remain upright. The deep gashes across her arms and legs oozed crimson, her clothes clinging to her sweat-soaked skin. Each shallow inhale burned her lungs, but she forced herself to focus, her eyes locked on the hulking creature before her. Rhyka, the wolf Abomination, circled her with predatory precision, his eyes glowing with feral intensity. His movements were eerily fluid, each step a calculated measure of her vulnerability. The once-standoffish skirmish had transformed into a harrowing duel, and as the battle dragged on, Rhyka's savagery evolved into a terrifying mastery.

What had started as raw, primal ferocity now seemed almost deliberate—an instinctual artistry of violence. His attacks had become sharp, deliberate feints and devastating strikes that tested every facet of Sam's defense. Her once-solid footing faltered under the relentless barrage, and no matter how fast or precise her counterattacks, his daggers seemed to find gaps in her guard, slicing through fabric and flesh alike.

Pain throbbed in her side, where a particularly deep cut dripped onto the ground. Her vision blurred momentarily, the coppery taste of blood filling her mouth. She spat and tightened her fist inside the gauntlet strapped to her arm, the metal creaking under the pressure. Sparks flickered along its edges, the faint hum of its power a reminder of the weapon that had kept her alive this far. Rhyka growled low, a guttural sound that reverberated in her chest. He was toying with her now, his movements teasing and deliberate, daring her to make a mistake. His keen battle instincts were pushing her to her limits, each strike leaving her weaker, slower.

Sam gritted her teeth, forcing herself to stand taller despite the shaking of her legs. She raised her gauntlet, the faint glow intensifying as she channeled the energy she had into its core. This wasn't just a battle anymore; it was survival. She knew that one wrong move could be her last, but she wasn't going to let him see her falter.

"Come on," she muttered under her breath, glaring at Rhyka through sweat-soaked strands of hair. "Is that all you've got?"

The wolf Abomination snarled in response, his lips curling back to reveal jagged teeth. His savage grin was almost mocking, as if he understood her defiance and welcomed it. Sam steadied her breathing, each inhale drawing out the pain. Sparks crackled along the length of her gauntlet as she prepared to strike. Sam surged forward, her fist blazing with raw mana as she launched her assault against the Beast. The energy crackled and shimmered around the gauntlet, each punch carrying the weight of her determination and the fiery strength of her will. Rhyka moved with an almost supernatural grace, sidestepping her strikes as though he could read her intentions. His twin daggers danced through the air, their dark edges slicing through the space between them like ripples of shadow. A flurry of slashes followed, each strike deliberate and unrelenting, forming an ominous arc that descended upon her like a storm.

Sam gritted her teeth, her senses heightened as she transitioned into the first form of the Adamantium Fist Style. The combat art's principles coursed through her body, sharpening her reflexes and allowing her to read the trajectory of Rhyka's attacks. Her movements became fluid yet precise, her feet gliding over the blood-soaked ground as she dodged the deadly arcs of his daggers. Still, she wasn't fast enough to escape unscathed. The edge of a blade grazed her arm, leaving a fresh crimson trail in its wake. Another tore through the side of her thigh, the sharp sting of pain forcing her to bite back a cry. Blood splattered against the dirt as the Beast's relentless onslaught pressed her further, testing the limits of her endurance. Even as her body screamed in protest, Sam's resolve burned brighter. She shifted her stance, weaving between slashes, her movements deliberate and calculated. Her gauntlet hummed with energy as she gathered mana into it, readying herself for the right moment to strike back. Trying to put some distance between herself and the Wolf, Sam darted back, her chest heaving. Rhyka's dagger flared with a dark, twisting aura, the energy coiling like living shadows before erupting into a violent blast. Sam barely evaded the attack, leaping backward as the blast scorched the ground where she had stood moments before. As she landed, her foot slipped on the uneven terrain, and she staggered, nearly falling. Behind her, Henry and Stella instinctively began to rush forward, concern etched on their faces.

"Stay back!" Sam barked, thrusting a hand out in protest. Her tone was sharp and unwavering, and the urgency in her voice stopped them in their tracks. This was her fight. It was her job to protect them—to make sure that this monster never reached them. Sam's eyes burned with determination as she shifted her stance, planting her feet firmly despite the tremble in her legs.

Rhyka snarled, sensing her persistence, his attacks growing faster and more erratic. But Sam had trained for moments like this, where pain and exhaustion blurred the line between survival and defeat. She drew upon every ounce of her training, each movement of the Adamantium Fist Style a blend of instinct and discipline. She knew she couldn't afford many more hits like these, but she also knew something else—if she timed her next move perfectly, she might turn the tide. The Beastman lunged forward with deadly precision, his daggers blazing with Infernal energy. The twisted, chaotic power erupted from the blades, surging forward in a dark arc of concentrated malice—a sash of pure destruction tearing through the air, aimed to rip Sam apart.

This is it, Sam thought, her eyes narrowing as the attack closed in. Exactly what Emanu trained me for.

With unwavering focus, Sam raised her gauntlet, its intricate mechanisms glowing faintly as it hummed to life. The shield formed in an instant, shimmering with vibrant energy as Sam executed the Perfect Counter, a technique that Emanu had drilled into her time and time again before she left Luna to return to Terra. The dark energy slash collided with her shield, the impact creating a deafening crack that echoed through the battlefield. For a moment, it seemed as though the overwhelming force of the attack might break through. But the Perfect Counter held, neutralizing the destructive energy with surgical precision. The dark aura twisted and writhed as it was absorbed and dissipated, vanishing into harmless motes of light.

The success of the technique brought an immediate and profound effect. A surge of Spiritual strength coursed through Sam's body, an electrifying rush that momentarily dulled the pain of her wounds. Her soul core pulsed with vitality, drawing deeply from the remaining Od within her core, converting it into a torrent of pure mana. Her fatigue was momentarily eclipsed by the raw power flooding her system, her senses sharpening, her breathing steadier.

The gauntlet's shield flickered before stabilizing, its glow brighter than before. Sam clenched her fist tightly, her gaze locking onto Rhyka, who now hesitated for the first time, his snarling face twisted in confusion and frustration.

"Not this time," Sam muttered, her voice steady and filled with renewed determination. This was her moment to turn the tide, and she wasn't going to waste it

[Adamantium Fist Style: Resonance: Thunderclap]

Sam's gauntlet hummed as vibrant green mana surged through it, coalescing into a concentrated beam of pure energy. With a sharp crack, the air seemed to split, and a bolt of green light erupted forward in a dazzling straight beam. The sheer pressure of the attack radiated outward, shaking the ground beneath her feet and creating a shockwave that rippled through the battlefield.

The beam struck Rhyka with unrelenting force, slamming into his torso and sending him hurtling backward. The concussive blast was unlike anything he had faced, the impact resonating through his body as if the air around him had turned into a weapon. The Beastman howled in pain as he was thrown off balance, his footing lost in the wake of the devastating blow. The force of the attack didn't just stop at the initial impact; the resonance echoed through Rhyka's frame, battering him from within. Each pulse of energy left him momentarily stunned, his once-fluid movements now sluggish as he struggled to regain control.

Sam exhaled sharply, lowering her gauntlet as the green light dimmed. Her stance remained firm, her eyes never leaving the Beastman as he stumbled, clawing at the ground to steady himself. She could feel the aftereffects of the technique in her own body—a deep exhaustion creeping in—but she pushed it aside. The battlefield was silent for a brief moment, save for the heavy breaths of the combatants. Thunderclap had done its job, but Sam knew this fight wasn't over. Sam gritted her teeth, pushing through her exhaustion as she prepared for one final attack—an all-or-nothing strike that would end the fight. But before she could act, Rhyka's body was enveloped in a dark, twisting aura. The corrupted mana surged around him like a living entity, his once-battered frame rising with unnatural vigor. His daggers were broken, yet his claws gleamed with a deadly aura.

His wounds began to close, the gashes across his body knitting together as the ambient Infernal energy of the dimension poured into him. The oppressive atmosphere of this realm worked in his favor, feeding him power and revitalizing him with every passing second. This was the terrifying advantage of battling in an Infernal dimension. Here, Abominations like Rhyka could draw endlessly from the energy saturating the environment, empowering themselves and recovering from even the most critical injuries.

Sam's heart sank for a moment, but she quickly steeled herself. She knew that unless one wielded devastating power—like Rex, whose strikes could obliterate opponents outright—delivering a mortal blow to a creature like Rhyka was nearly impossible. Even so, retreat wasn't an option. If she wanted to protect Henry and Stella, she had to find a way to overcome this monstrous resilience.

"Nice trick, Asha'Yee," Rhyka snarled, his voice dripping with mockery. "But how many times can you pull off a Perfect Counter when you're cut off from the Odyllic? How long can your core keep producing mana without Od to replenish it?" He took a step forward, his dark aura twisting around him like a living shadow, his predatory grin widening. "I want to see what you're truly capable of. Show me, Sam—show me the power of the one beloved by the Universe."

Rhyka moved with blinding speed, vanishing from sight before reappearing in an instant, closing the distance between them. His claws lashed out, razor-sharp and deadly, aiming to tear through Sam. But she was ready. Sam shifted her stance, seamlessly transitioning into the Second Form of the Adamantium Fist Style. Her movements were fluid yet deliberate, redirecting Rhyka's momentum with precision. Using his own strength against him, she twisted her body and shifted his weight, leaving him momentarily vulnerable. Without hesitation, she drove an uppercut toward his jaw, the strike powered by the residual mana coursing through her from the Perfect Counter.

Her body bristled with energy, her physical strength enhanced and fortified by Validus, the mystical aura skill that layered her mana with a reinforcing force. Every muscle in her body seemed to hum with power, the Perfect Counter's aftereffects still fueling her relentless assault. Sam hadn't yet tapped into the Third Form of the Adamantium Fist Style, but the longer the battle raged, the more her mastery of the combat art began to shine. Her mind flashed back to the duel between Leon and Titus—a battle that had etched itself into her memory. Titus had been the epitome of unyielding strength, embodying the true essence of what the Adamantium Fist Style was meant to be. Drawing inspiration from that memory, Sam began to emulate Titus's relentless spirit. She adjusted the vibrational force field that enabled her to utilize the Second Form, condensing it around her body like a protective coat. The force field blended seamlessly with Validus, amplifying the already formidable durability of her Mana Skin.

Sam felt the transformation immediately. Her body vibrated with a steady, resonant hum as the condensed force field hardened her flesh to an unprecedented level. Her strikes became heavier, each blow carrying a density and power that rivaled even the strongest of warriors. Rhyka hesitated for a split second, his predatory instincts sensing the change in her. Sam clenched her fists, her eyes locking onto the Beastman with unwavering determination. This fight was far from over, but now, she felt truly prepared to face him head-on. Moving swiftly, Sam formed intricate hand gestures, her voice steady as she chanted one of the spells her mother had taught her.

[Exploding Cube Prison]

Eight fireballs materialized around Rhyka, forming the corners of an invisible cube. A yellow line of light shot out, connecting each fireball in a geometric pattern. The cube shimmered ominously, the lines pulsing with fiery energy. The moment the final connection was made, the fireballs compressed inward with a sharp hiss. A heartbeat later, they detonated in unison, unleashing a powerful explosion that erupted into the shape of a blazing pillar, the heat, and force surging skyward like a fiery lance.

As the fiery pillar surged toward him, Rhyka's body tensed, and a sudden flash of silverish-black light enveloped him. The energy radiated with an eerie, otherworldly quality, pulsing like a heartbeat as it expanded outward to form a protective barrier.

The barrier shimmered and twisted, its surface appearing almost liquid, yet unyielding. Threads of silver light wove through the dark mass, creating intricate, chaotic patterns that seemed to pulse in rhythm with Rhyka's corrupted mana. As the explosive force of the pillar descended upon him, the barrier absorbed the brunt of the attack, ripples of energy coursing across its surface like waves in a stormy sea. For a moment, it seemed the barrier might falter under the sheer intensity of the explosion. Cracks of light flared across its surface, but the silverish-black energy quickly coalesced, sealing the fractures with a burst of radiant power. When the flames and smoke finally cleared, Rhyka stood unharmed, the barrier dissolving into wisps of silver and black that vanished into the air. He grinned, his sharp teeth glinting in the dim light.

"Impressive spell," he growled, his voice laced with mockery. "But your flames will never reach me as long as I wield this."

His aura flared, the silverish-black energy briefly surging around him once more before sinking back into his body, as though waiting to be unleashed again. Sam's eyes narrowed, her mind racing to decipher the nature of his mysterious defense. Whatever it was, it wasn't ordinary mana—it felt far more sinister, as though it was tethered to something beyond the Infernal dimension itself.

Sam tightened her grip on her gauntlet, steeling herself. If she couldn't break through this barrier, protecting Stella and Henry would be impossible. Henry, realizing the precarious situation Sam was in, knew he couldn't afford to wait any longer. His grip tightened around the hilt of the enchanted blade Emily had entrusted to him—a blade that hummed with latent power. With a swift motion, he raised it and cast a protective barrier around Stella, the shimmering dome of light forming a shield to keep her safe.

Turning his focus back to the battle, Henry activated one of the spells embedded within the blade. The gems set into the shortsword's guard flared to life, glowing with vibrant hues as the enchantment took effect. A rush of energy coursed through him, augmenting his physical abilities. His reflexes sharpened, his movements quickened, and his body felt lighter, almost as if the magic was rewriting his very limits. Steeling his resolve, Henry surged forward, his enhanced speed and strength allowing him to keep up with the intensity of the battle. Though he wasn't on Sam's level of skill or power, he was determined to assist her in any way he could. The blade in his hand wasn't just a weapon—it was a lifeline, a piece of Emily's craftsmanship designed to give him the edge he needed in moments like this.

His mind raced as he closed the distance. Stay focused. Don't be reckless. Sam's counting on me, he reminded himself. Henry's fingers tightened around the enchanted blade as its gems flared with a soft, pulsating light. This was no ordinary weapon—Emily had imbued it with fragments of her techniques, crafting a tool capable of carrying echoes of her prowess into the hands of another.

The first enchantment, Dancing Twilight, activated as Henry moved. His body felt like it was flowing with the rhythm of the blade, his movements becoming more fluid and natural as if he were part of a graceful, unseen dance. The enchantment guided him instinctively, compensating for his lack of advanced training and allowing him to move with an elegance that matched the chaos of the battlefield.

As he approached Sam and Rhyka, another enchantment began to stir—the Falling Dusk Slash, a technique Emily had personally designed. This spell was dormant within the blade, triggered only when Henry channeled enough of his Odic force and focus into it. The gems on the guard flickered, faint tendrils of dark energy curling around the blade's edge, waiting for the moment he would release its devastating power.

Emily had explained it to him once: "The Falling Dusk Slash isn't just a strike—it's a culmination of balance and precision. When you use it, the blade will release a sweeping arc of energy, slicing through anything in its path. But it's not about strength; it's about timing and intent. Trust the blade, and it will guide you."

Henry could feel the power building now, the magic of the Falling Dusk Slash humming faintly beneath the surface. It filled him with a strange confidence, as though Emily's steady hand was still guiding him, even from afar. The blade wasn't merely augmenting his physical abilities; it was teaching him. Each movement he made felt deliberate as if the weapon itself understood the flow of combat and was leading him to match its rhythm.

"Come on, Henry," he muttered under his breath, his gaze locked on the chaotic battle ahead. Sam needs you. Stella needs you. You can do this.

As he closed the gap, he prepared to unleash the Falling Dusk Slash. The dark energy swirled more violently now, the blade almost vibrating in his grip. He wasn't sure if he could fully replicate Emily's skill, but at this moment, he didn't care. He'd find a way to make it work—he had to. As Henry surged forward, the Falling Dusk Slash began to take form, the dark energy coiling tighter around the blade like a living entity. Emily's enchantment was designed to draw from the element of darkness, channeling it into slashes imbued with a venomous effect. The darkness wasn't just destructive; it carried a toxic energy that seeped into the wounds it inflicted, sapping the target's strength over time and dulling their senses.

The enchantment relied on a delicate balance of the wielder's intent and control. For Emily, a master of the technique, it was effortless. She could shape the arc of energy with pinpoint precision, maximizing its lethality and efficiency. For Henry, however, the technique was far more challenging. His inexperience meant the energy wasn't as sharp or focused, and the slashes lacked the precision that Emily could achieve. Still, the blade's enchantment compensated for Henry's lack of mastery, guiding him as best it could. The dark energy gathered at the blade's edge, forming a hazy crescent of shadow. Henry swung the shortsword in a wide arc, releasing the Falling Dusk Slash with all the intent and focus he could muster.

The crescent of dark energy shot forward, tearing through the air toward Rhyka. Though not as refined as Emily's version, the attack was still potent. The arc struck the Beastman's barrier, cracking it slightly before surging past and slashing across his side. The darkness seeped into the wound immediately, spreading like an infection. Rhyka snarled, his movements momentarily slowed as the poisonous energy began to weaken his body, disrupting the flow of his corrupted mana. Henry staggered slightly, the effort of using the enchantment leaving him winded. He could feel the difference between his use of the technique and Emily's. Where she would have delivered a devastating, precise blow, his attack had been raw and unrefined—a crude version of what the Falling Dusk Slash was meant to be. But it had worked.

The brief moment of distraction it created was enough.

"Sam!" Henry shouted, his voice cutting through the chaos.

Sam, still locked in her deadly clash with Rhyka, saw the opening Henry had created. Without hesitation, she seized the opportunity. Her gauntlet hummed with power as she gathered her mana, the vibrations resonating through her body. The density of her energy was palpable, radiating like a storm about to break.

[Adamantium Fist Style: Resonance: Thunderclap]

Sam unleashed the technique once more, a bolt of green light shooting forward in a straight beam. The pressure it generated was immense, slamming into Rhyka with concussive force. The Beastman, weakened by the poisonous effects of the Falling Dusk Slash, was unable to react in time. The beam struck him head-on, sending him sprawling backward as the ground beneath him cracked from the sheer impact. Henry exhaled in relief, his grip on the enchanted blade steadying as he watched Sam turn the tide of the battle. While his version of the Falling Dusk Slash might not have matched Emily's brilliance, it had been enough to give Sam the opening she needed to strike.

The moment the concussive blast of Resonance: Thunderclap struck, Rhyka felt his body seize as if it had collided with an unstoppable force of nature. The green beam of light crashed into his chest, sending shockwaves rippling through his entire frame. Bones creaked under the pressure, and the impact reverberated through his muscles, threatening to shatter his powerful physique. The ground beneath him gave way as the sheer force drove him backward, tearing gouges into the earth as his claws instinctively dug in to regain balance.

For a Beastman of Rhyka's caliber, pain was a constant companion, dulled by years of battle and the resilience granted by his corrupted mana. Yet this was different. The blast wasn't just physical—it felt as though it reached deep into his very core, shaking the corrupted energy that sustained him. His vision blurred momentarily, the edges darkened by the violent shock that tore through him. But as if the blow wasn't enough, the venomous effects of the Falling Dusk Slash compounded his suffering. The darkness spread from the wound on his side, tendrils of shadow-like energy crawling beneath his skin. It felt cold, a frigid poison that seemed to target more than just his flesh—it gnawed at his strength, unraveling the connection he had to the ambient Infernal energy around him.

Rhyka snarled, baring his fangs in frustration. The poison wasn't killing him outright, but it was a constant, insidious drain on his vitality. His movements became sluggish, his muscles heavy, as if the venom was sapping the very essence of his power. Worse, his corrupted mana, usually quick to heal and invigorate him, was struggling to counteract the venom. Each attempt to surge his energy for recovery only seemed to deepen the cold, parasitic grip of the poison, forcing his body into a chaotic battle against itself. Rhyka's breathing grew labored, his chest rising and falling with ragged heaves. The Beastman growled low, his crimson eyes narrowing on Sam and Henry. The humiliation of being forced into this state burned brighter than the pain. His pride as an Abomination—his very essence as a predator—was under assault.

And yet, even as his body faltered, the sheer hatred and willpower that defined him refused to let him fall. His claws scraped against the fractured ground, and he forced himself upright despite the trembling in his limbs. The corrupted aura around him flickered erratically, a reflection of his unstable condition.

"This... is nothing," Rhyka hissed, though the venom-laced wound throbbed with every word. His voice, normally feral and commanding, carried a faint tremor of strain. "You think this will stop me?"

But deep inside, Rhyka felt a flicker of unease—a realization that if the battle dragged on much longer, his body might not hold out against the relentless poison and the devastating strikes Sam continued to unleash. For the first time in the fight, Rhyka felt the faint whisper of vulnerability creeping in, and it infuriated him.

Sam's eyes locked on Rhyka as he struggled to steady himself, his corrupted aura flickering like a failing flame. The Thunderclap had shaken him to his core, and the venom of Henry's Falling Dusk Slash was eating away at his strength. She clenched her gauntleted fists, her body still vibrating with residual energy from her previous attack. This was her chance—a fleeting moment to press the advantage and end this.

"Henry, now!" Sam barked, her voice sharp and commanding, but laced with urgency.

Henry, still recovering from the strain of using Emily's enchanted blade, nodded and stepped forward. The gems embedded in the shortsword's guard pulsed faintly, responding to his intent. He didn't have another Falling Dusk Slash in him—not yet—but he could still assist. Channeling the blade's remaining enchantments, he activated Dancing Twilight, the spell's rhythmic flow enhancing his movements. He darted to Sam's side, ready to support her with quick, precise strikes or defensive maneuvers. Sam took a deep breath, feeling the hum of her mana flow through her body. She had one more powerful move left in her arsenal, but it would require perfect timing and coordination. Her eyes flicked to Henry, who had already taken a defensive stance behind her, his blade angled low and steady, ready to fend off any unexpected counters.

Rhyka growled, his body trembling as he forced himself upright, his crimson eyes glowing with hatred. Despite the poison coursing through him, the Beastman wasn't giving up. He raised his claws, the corrupted mana around him flaring erratically as he prepared a desperate, feral charge. Sam shifted her stance, her gauntlet beginning to resonate with an intense hum. The vibrations around her fists grew sharper and denser, the energy coalescing into visible green arcs of light. This wasn't just another strike—this was a culmination of her combat art, a technique that required both raw power and precise control.

[Adamantium Fist Style: Resonance: Shattering Star]

"Henry," Sam called without looking back, her voice steady despite the chaos. "Cover me. I need ten seconds."

"Got it," Henry replied, gripping his blade tightly.

Rhyka roared, charging at them with wild abandon. His claws slashed through the air, each strike erratic but devastating. Henry stepped forward, meeting the onslaught head-on. The enchantments in his blade allowed him to parry and deflect the Beastman's attacks, though the sheer force behind them made his arms tremble.

As Henry bought her the precious seconds she needed, Sam focused on the energy gathering in her gauntlet. The vibrations intensified, her fists glowing brighter with each passing moment. Her mana surged, the energy from her soul core fueling the technique. She could feel the weight of the moment—the culmination of her training, her will, and her purpose all converging into this single strike.

Henry grunted as Rhyka's claws nearly broke through his guard. He sidestepped at the last moment, using the Dancing Twilight enchantment to shift his movements fluidly. "Sam, whatever you're doing, hurry!" he yelled, his voice strained.

"Just a little more," Sam muttered, her eyes narrowing as the energy in her gauntlet reached its peak.

Finally, the resonance around her fists erupted into a brilliant green aura, the air around her rippling from the sheer force of the vibrations. She stepped forward, her gaze locked on Rhyka, who was still focused on Henry.

"Henry, move!" Sam shouted.

Henry didn't hesitate. He ducked under Rhyka's next slash and rolled to the side, putting enough distance between himself and the Beastman.

Rhyka turned toward Sam just in time to see her leap into the air, her gauntlet glowing like a miniature star. The ground beneath her cracked from the force of her launch, and she descended like a meteor, her fist aimed directly at Rhyka's chest.

"Take this!" Sam roared, unleashing the Resonance: Shattering Star

The strike connected with a deafening boom, the green energy exploding outward in a shockwave that shattered the ground and sent debris flying in all directions. Rhyka's corrupted aura flickered violently as the force of the attack overwhelmed him, the venom in his body amplifying the damage as it disrupted his ability to recover. The Beastman let out a guttural roar of pain as he was blasted backward, his body skidding across the shattered earth before slamming into a jagged rock formation. The corrupted energy around him sputtered and died, leaving him slumped and motionless. Sam landed heavily, her knees buckling slightly as the exertion caught up to her. She glanced at Henry, who was breathing hard but still standing.

"Good work," she said, her voice ragged but filled with relief.

Henry gave her a shaky thumbs-up, the enchanted blade still glowing faintly in his hand. "You too. That... was something else."

The battlefield fell silent, the echoes of their clash dissipating into the eerie quiet of the Infernal dimension. But just as a fleeting sense of relief began to settle over Sam, a sudden eruption of silvery-black light burst from Rhyka's battered body. The oppressive energy surged outward in a shockwave, gnawing at Sam's heart like the whispers of a malevolent force. The light struck Stella's protective barrier, shattering it like fragile glass. Sam's eyes widened as she turned her focus back to Rhyka, who now stood tall and menacing. His black fur had transformed into a gleaming silver sheen, arcs of silver lightning rippling across his body. His crimson eyes, no longer dulled by pain, blazed with malice so pure it sent chills down her spine.

"Damn it," Henry growled, gripping the hilt of his enchanted blade tightly, his knuckles white with tension. But before he could step forward, Sam raised her hand, a silent command to hold his ground. Rhyka let out a guttural roar, his voice echoing with newfound power.

"Asha'yee, I underestimated your resilience," he snarled. "Though you may still dwell in the Adept Realm, your strength far surpasses it. His Majesty was right to mark you for death before you became a true threat. But no more. Now, you die!"

[Silver Maelstrom – Silver Howl]

Rhyka's jaws opened wide, unleashing a torrent of silver lightning. The dense, crackling energy roared toward Sam, Henry, and Stella, its sheer intensity threatening to obliterate everything in its path. Sam stood firm, her eyes calm yet determined.

"Now, Avis!"

From nowhere, a tiny bird materialized—a striking creature with six wings, its feathers a perfect blend of black and white. Avis flapped its wings, conjuring a glowing white barrier around the group. The silver lightning slammed into the barrier, causing it to ripple with raw energy. But instead of breaking, the shield absorbed the blast, redirecting the energy upward. The redirected lightning pierced the dimension's ceiling, leaving Rhyka stunned.

"A Familiar?" Rhyka snarled, his voice thick with disbelief. He stepped forward but froze mid-stride. For the first time, he noticed the black clouds swirling above and below him. Bolts of white and black lightning crackled ominously within the stormy formations, forming a trap that encased him in a deadly cyclone of energy.

"When... When did you do this, Asha'yee?" Rhyka demanded, his voice laced with rage and desperation. Sam smirked, her gauntleted hand still raised as she directed her Familiar's energy.

"I figured my Shattering Star wouldn't be enough to stop you," she admitted. "That mysterious power of yours—it doesn't feel like an Infernal force. I don't know what it is, but I knew it would allow you to recover and push back. So I prepared for it."

Rhyka's eyes flared. "You... You little bitch," he hissed. "How... How could you outthink me? I've fought on countless battlefields, and faced warriors far beyond your skill!"

Sam's gaze darkened as a fragment of a memory flashed in her mind—nightmarish visions of a battlefield, blood-soaked and endless. A version of herself she didn't understand, cleaving through enemies and shielding allies with unwavering precision. Who was that person? Why did those dreams haunt her?

"I guess I was just lucky to be blessed," Sam said, shaking off the thought as she glanced at Avis. The bird let out a sharp cry, its wings spreading wide as its aura surged. Sam formed intricate hand gestures, channeling all the mana from the Pocket Band around her wrist into one final, devastating spell. Every ounce of her strength and focus poured into the effort.

[Storm Creation – Stormfall Expression]

The swirling clouds above and below Rhyka began to glow with an immense surge of energy. They formed two massive triangular shapes, one above him and one below, their edges humming with power. The triangles aligned, and in the next instant, bolts of pure lightning cascaded from all directions, converging on Rhyka.

"No!" Rhyka roared, his claws glowing as he desperately attempted to conjure a barrier. The silver lightning around his body flared, forming a fragile shield, but it was no match for the storm's wrath. The twin triangles released their energy in unison, a cataclysmic surge of black and white lightning that obliterated everything in its path. The force of the impact was so immense that the very fabric of the dimension began to tear, a massive hole forming in the sky. Through it, the group could see the outside world—Northbrook, bathed in sunlight, a stark contrast to the hellish battlefield they stood on.

Avis let out another cry, reinforcing the barrier around Sam, Henry, and Stella as the explosion's shockwave rippled outward. The ground trembled violently, but the protective shield held firm. As the dust and energy settled, Rhyka's form lay crumpled in the center of the blast zone, his silver fur scorched. Sam lowered her hands, her breathing heavy but steady. She turned to Henry and Stella, a faint smile breaking through her exhaustion.

"It's over," she said softly, though a part of her couldn't shake the feeling that this was only the beginning of something far more dangerous.