Shaun vs warden 3

The Warden stood tall, his massive frame emanating an aura of unshakable dominance. His golden eyes glimmered like molten metal as he spoke with a tone of finality.

"I warn you one last time," he rumbled, his voice resonating like a storm rolling through a canyon. "You've impressed me, child. I don't want to kill someone who hasn't even reached their peak. It would be... disappointing." He paused, his gaze softening for the briefest of moments. "Take my mercy and walk away."

Shaun wiped a streak of blood from the corner of his lips, a smirk spreading across his face as he locked eyes with the towering figure before him. "Mercy? How noble of you." He raised his arm, his aura flaring to life, black and crackling with raw, untamed energy. "But I'm not done yet."

With a sharp motion, Shaun slammed his palm forward, summoning a pillar of fire that roared to life, its flames spiraling toward the Warden like a furious inferno.

The Warden didn't flinch. With a single, precise motion of his hand, the fire was cleaved in two and extinguished mid-air, disappearing as though it had never existed. "Child's play," he muttered.

Before Shaun could react, the Warden moved in a blur, his godlike speed carrying him to Shaun's side in an instant. His leg swung like a wrecking ball, delivering a thunderous kick aimed at Shaun's torso.

Shaun, now familiar with the Warden's blinding speed, raised his arms into a defensive stance, his aura hardening like a shield. The impact connected with an ear-splitting crack, and Shaun's forearm shattered under the immense force. Pain rippled through him as he staggered back, clutching his arm.

But Shaun wasn't deterred. His aura pulsed, a deep crimson glow enveloping his arm as he activated his Healing Surge. The shattered bones realigned and fused in seconds, leaving him as good as new.

The Warden raised an eyebrow. "You're persistent, I'll give you that."

"And you're annoyingly predictable," Shaun quipped, his smirk widening.

With a roar, Shaun unleashed Shadow Lightning, an attack that plunged the battlefield into darkness. A dense, paralyzing aura engulfed the Warden, binding him in place. Bolts of black lightning surged through the void, crackling and searing as they homed in on their target.

For a moment, it seemed as if Shaun had gained the upper hand. But then, the Warden's aura erupted like a volcano, a massive wave of hostile energy obliterating the dark veil. The lightning fizzled out, swallowed by the sheer intensity of the Warden's spiritual force.

"I'm done playing," the Warden growled.

He raised his hands, gathering energy as the air grew heavy and lifeless. The ground trembled as he summoned his signature move: Blue Moth. A cocoon of concentrated energy and magic materialized, pulsating ominously. The atmosphere around it turned cold and oppressive, a void where life seemed to wither.

From the cocoon, dozens of moth-like creatures emerged, their delicate forms shimmering with a deadly, otherworldly glow. Shaun's eyes narrowed as one landed on his arm. In an instant, his skin withered, his once-healthy hand reduced to a mummified husk.

"What the—?!" Shaun snarled, his aura flaring as he tried to heal the damage. But it was futile; the moth's effect was beyond ordinary injury.

Desperate, Shaun leaped back, swatting at the creatures and trying to put distance between himself and the swarm. But the moths were relentless, their numbers overwhelming.

The Warden watched, his expression unreadable as he muttered to himself. "This boy… he continues to surprise me. At first, it was arrogance I despised. Then it was his resilience that intrigued me. And now…" He shook his head. "To stand against me this long, even when at barely ten percent of my power... it's remarkable."

Shaun, meanwhile, activated Invasion, his aura surging outward to attack the moths directly. Dozens of them disintegrated into sparks, their energy absorbed to strengthen Shaun's recovery. But the sheer number of moths overwhelmed the technique, their decaying touch spreading further across his limbs.

The Warden sighed as he watched Shaun struggle, his body now partially consumed by the swarm. "Your spirit is admirable, child, but it's over."

With a burst of speed, the Warden closed the distance, his massive fist crashing into Shaun's jaw in an uppercut that sent him spiraling into the air. Before Shaun could hit the ground, the Warden caught him by the leg and slammed him down with a bone-shaking boom.

Not giving him a moment to recover, the Warden unleashed his Silent Whisper technique, a devastating mental assault. Shaun's eyes widened as he felt the intrusion in his mind, the whispering voices threatening to shatter his will.

But Shaun's determination didn't waver. Pouring all his aura and spiritual energy into a Wall of Protection, he blocked the attack on his mind, leaving his body vulnerable in the process.

The Warden seized the opportunity, slamming Shaun's body into the ground repeatedly before tossing him like a ragdoll. With a final, devastating jab, the Warden sent Shaun skidding across the battlefield, a trail of destruction in his wake.

The moths closed in, their decaying touch consuming Shaun's legs, arms, and torso. Only his head remained untouched as he fought to stay conscious.

The Warden stood over him, watching with an air of reluctant respect. "You've given me something I haven't felt in a long time, boy: a challenge. But now, it's time to see if you can survive this."

As the last moth moved toward Shaun's head, the Warden crossed his arms, waiting to see if the boy could defy death once more.

The pain was unlike anything Shaun had ever endured. His body felt like it was being torn apart and left to rot, every nerve aflame with agony. His limbs, once strong and responsive, were now hollow, withered husks. His throat was parched, his lips cracked, and every breath tasted of decay and defeat. Yet, through it all, his mind remained sharp, detached, as if observing the destruction from a distance.

So this is it? Not death, but something worse. How poetic.

He gazed blankly at the swarm of moths crawling closer, their vile touch spreading ruin across his broken body. They're efficient, relentless… almost beautiful in their design. An unyielding execution of destruction. How fitting for an end brought by that monster.

Shaun's focus shifted inward, ignoring the creeping darkness around him. His thoughts were cold and analytical, his emotions stripped away by the severity of his condition. Pain is irrelevant. Water, air, survival—meaningless distractions now. What matters is preserving what remains. My body is failing, but my mind... my spirit... they're still intact. For now.

He felt the weight of the Warden's gaze, a silent observer to his imminent demise. Even he waits, curious if I'll pull off some last trick. Am I that interesting? Or is this amusement for him? Perhaps it doesn't matter. Time is slipping away.

A small flicker of determination sparked within the calculated void of his thoughts. Three minutes. That's how long it'll take for my third defense to activate—if it does at all. I designed it for the moment I'm truly dead, not for this. I don't even know if it will work.

Shaun's lips curved into a faint, bitter smile. The irony… betting on my own death to save me. A gamble where the stakes are everything and the odds laughable.

He exhaled sharply, focusing his fractured thoughts. No, I won't leave this to chance. My body is a lost cause, but my mind and spirit… they're still mine. To protect them, I need to ascend. There's no other way.

Shaun's aura flickered weakly, then surged as he poured every ounce of energy—spiritual, magical, and mental—into one final effort. His vision blurred, the world spinning around him as the pressure mounted. The air grew heavier with his struggle, each second stretching into eternity.

"I need to sever this connection," he whispered through clenched teeth, his voice barely audible but steady. "If I can preserve my mind and spirit, I might survive. Ascension… spiritual transition… it's the only way out of this."

With the countdown looming in his mind, Shaun channeled all his focus inward. Every reserve of aura, spiritual energy, and mental fortitude converged toward a singular purpose: breaking free from the failing shell of his body and crossing the threshold to a higher plane.

Three minutes. Just three minutes. I won't fail now.

His thoughts grew sharper, his will unyielding as he fought against the crushing weight of his situation. For Shaun, the pain and decay became background noise, a mere obstacle to be overcome in the face of his calculated resolve.

And so, he worked, relentless, with every fragment of strength, to ascend before time ran out.

As Shaun poured every ounce of his will into severing the fragile link between his mind and failing body, a faint ripple disturbed the edges of his concentration. It was subtle at first, like the shiver of a distant breeze. But then it grew, swelling into a sensation he couldn't ignore.

His focus wavered.

Two presences flickered in the periphery of his awareness—familiar, steadfast, and unshakable once, now trembling like candles in a storm. Harold and Smith.

The old servants. Loyal to a fault.

And then—extinguished.

The void left in their absence struck him like a hammer blow.

"What?" he murmured, his voice barely a whisper as the truth sank in. "Harold? Smith?"

Disbelief sharpened into urgency as Shaun extended his senses outward, searching for something, anything, that might explain what he had just felt. But the void remained. No faint sparks. No lingering traces. Nothing.

"They're dead."

The words fell from his lips, hollow and disjointed. The loyal hands who had served in silence, who had watched over his path with quiet vigilance—they were gone.

His chest tightened, his aura flaring erratically as questions surged through his mind, each more urgent than the last.

How?

His thoughts turned to Heron, the looming specter in his plans, the enemy poised to strike at any weakness.

"Did Heron act this quickly?" he muttered aloud, his voice edged with suspicion. But no. That thought crumbled under scrutiny. Even Heron's reach, vast as it was, couldn't move this fast. His methods were precise, deliberate, and calculated. This was something else.

An ambush? A rival faction? Something… worse?

A chill ran down Shaun's spine. Harold and Smith weren't just ordinary men. Survivors, weathered by years of service. For them to be eliminated so suddenly, so completely—it spoke of an enemy both ruthless and terrifyingly efficient.

Shaun's aura rippled with unsteady fury, his pain momentarily forgotten. "This is no coincidence," he hissed, his teeth clenched. "Someone knew. They knew exactly where to strike."

The implications clawed at the edges of his mind. The timing was too precise, the loss too deliberate. Yet, even with the weight of these revelations pressing down on him, Shaun forced himself back into focus.

Not now. Not yet.

The grim reality of his situation refused to be ignored. His body was a shell, crumbling under the relentless assault of Warden's moths. His spirit was stretched to its limits, teetering on the brink of collapse. And yet, ascension was still his only chance.

"Harold. Smith." He forced the words out, his tone low and cold. "I swear… I'll find out who did this. I'll make them pay."

His grip on his spiritual energy steadied, a razor-sharp resolve slicing through the chaos of his thoughts. But first, I have to survive this. For them. For everything that comes after.

The flicker of vengeance burned in the background as he refocused his mind, his spirit surging with a singular purpose. Whoever had orchestrated this would answer for their actions. But not yet.