Until Next Time

Warwick and Darius still stood before the unstable rift. The wind howled, carrying the faint metallic scent of blood and the lingering heat of battle. The forest, silent and expectant, seemed to hold its breath, waiting for the conclusion of their confrontation.

Warwick was the one to break the silence, his voice deep but unhurried. "And those kids? You're just going to leave them?"

He wasn't asking out of cruelty or a thirst for blood. It was simply a matter of loose ends. They had seen their faces—Warwick didn't like leaving things unfinished.

Darius scoffed, irritation flashing in his crimson gaze as he turned toward his companion.

"No! We've done enough damage already. Just by completing this mission, and accidentally taking out a guard, we've given them plenty of reason to hunt us down. Imagine if we spilled the blood of their direct descendants… while they were still children."

There was a weight to Darius' voice, something grim, something haunted. He knew firsthand the wrath of the Dracknum. It wasn't just a rumor, not some vague warning—it was something he had lived through.

The memories crashed over him like a storm.

The lord of his city… an ambitious, ruthless man, had once tried to claim a Dracknum descendant as his bride. She refused. He persisted, schemed, bribed the right people, eliminated her suitors. Trapped, with no escape, she took her own life.

When the Dracknum family received the news… Well, there was no hesitation. The village burned. The innocent were spared, but the guilty paid for their crimes in the worst manner. And the lord himself? He and his grand fortress vanished overnight. Some said he burned alive in his own mansion. Others claimed he had been tortured to death. There were even whispers that he was still out there somewhere, cursed to an eternity of suffering and regeneration.

Darius shivered, his skin prickling as the echoes of screams and fire-painted skies clawed their way back into his mind. Too many people he had once known had been dragged down with that disaster.

He shook his head, forcing the ghosts of the past away.

"I'm done wasting time here. Let's go." His voice cut through the night like a blade.

And Then…

His body began to dissolve into a swarm of black bats, which shot toward the sky like living shadows.

Warwick let out a low grunt, adjusting the weight of the unconscious boy in his arms. "I don't want to stick around to test their wrath."

Digging his feet into the earth, he felt the ground give way under his weight. Then, with a devastating push, he launched himself skyward, the wind tearing at his skin as he ascended toward Darius.

Midair, Darius reassumed his human form, his bat-like wings slicing through the night sky. From within his cloak, he retrieved an aged parchment and, without hesitation, tore it in half. The space before him rippled violently as a swirling black vortex began to form.

Victory was within reach.

Until a cold, lethal voice shattered the night.

"Not on my watch."

The Dracknum warrior.

He had finally broken free from paralysis and wasted no time channeling his power. His claymore pulsed with energy, its bluish hue intensifying. With impeccable precision, he hurled it straight into Warwick's path.

Darius snarled. "This guy just doesn't quit, does he?!"

Wasting no time, he raised a hand, summoning a barrier of blood between Warwick and the oncoming blade. The sword crashed into the barrier with explosive force, the air vibrating from the impact.

But then… something unexpected happened.

One of the embedded gems on the claymore glowed an intense crimson. The sword's blue aura began to shift—from blue to silver.

Darius' eyes widened. "Shit."

The blade crossed through the barrier as if it had never existed, continuing its ruthless trajectory toward Warwick.

But Warwick had already anticipated this.

A burst of orange light erupted around him as his aura expanded, his arms darkening into a solid, metallic sheen. He wasn't in the best position to dodge, but he was ready.

With his free hand, he raised his arm to block the strike.

The blade passed right through.

Warwick blinked, confused, when he realized he hadn't been struck.

But before he could react, a shadow loomed before him.

The Dracknum warrior. Moving with inhuman speed, he was already wielding his claymore once more. His eyes burned with unshakable determination.

Warwick tried to move, but the strike was already coming.

A precise thrust. A flawless vertical cut.

BANG!

At the last second, Warwick managed to raise his arm over his chest to absorb the impact. The shock was brutal. The force of the blow sent him hurtling toward the ground like a meteor, the air howling around him as he plummeted.

Still hovering above, Darius gritted his teeth, frustration surging in his chest. "Damn it! This guy is taking things too far…"

The forest below trembled, as if the very earth could sense the devastation about to come. The wind roared past Warwick, his clothes and hair whipping violently as he plunged toward the ground. Above him, the vortex spun wildly, unstable, threatening to collapse at any moment. Time was running out.

But the Dracknum warrior had no intention of simply watching.

With a firm motion, he hurled his claymore toward the ground. The blade sliced through the air like a silver lightning bolt, spinning before embedding itself into the earth with a dry, thunderous impact. The force sent cracks rippling across the terrain, a cloud of dust surging up from the blow.

And in the blink of an eye—before Warwick could even hit the ground—the warrior was already there, materializing beside his own sword. His stance was relaxed, but his intent was deadly clear.

From above, Darius didn't hesitate. He raised both hands, and from his fingertips, thin crimson lances formed—razor-sharp and swift, launched straight at the Dracknum warrior. They streaked through the air like furious thorns, tearing toward their target.

Warwick didn't even spare them a glance—he knew that, despite their menacing appearance, he could withstand them without serious harm.

The Dracknum warrior, however, merely smirked, his keen eyes following Warwick's descent.

"Not even worried about your companion?" he murmured, almost mocking.

But the smirk vanished the moment he moved.

At the last possible moment before impact, the Dracknum warrior moved.

Using Warwick's own descent speed against him, he shot forward like an arrow—precise and ruthless.

With a brutal kick, he struck the boy in Warwick's arms, wrenching him away with sheer force. The impact was violent, sending the child flying like a ragdoll.

"Shit." Warwick's eyes widened as he roared, reaching out in desperation to grab him back.

But the Dracknum warrior was faster.

In a single, fluid motion, he seized Warwick by the arm midair, pivoted on his own axis, and used the momentum to hurl him upward—straight toward Darius—without ever letting him touch the ground.

Darius watched it all unfold, his expression twisting into raw fury. "That bastard…!"

Warwick, still reeling from the sudden shift, had no time to recover.

Darius' blood lances, now without a target, continued on their original path. Warwick barely had a second to cross his arms defensively before they struck.

The projectiles ricocheted off his hardened arms as he hurtled uncontrollably toward Darius.

Below, the Dracknum warrior now stood beside the disheveled-haired boy. He shot them a mocking grin—then waved.

"Bye-bye."

Darius' glare darkened with pure murder. "You bastard…!" he spat, rage boiling at how effortlessly the warrior had unraveled their entire strategy in mere seconds.

But there was no time to dwell on it.

"MOVE!" Warwick's roar rang out as he careened toward Darius.

Darius heard the warning—but by the time he turned, it was already too late.

"WHAT?!"

Warwick crashed into Darius, the sheer force of the impact propelling them both straight into the black vortex.

For a fleeting moment, everything froze—silence reigned, the world suspended in the void between time and space.

Then, with a deafening crack, the vortex collapsed in on itself, vanishing as if it had never existed.

The Dracknum warrior remained where he stood, watching the scene unfold with an unshaken expression. The wind whispered through the trees, as if the world itself was exhaling after the storm.

His gaze shifted—from the disheveled-haired boy to the spot where the portal had vanished.

The smirk that had once been taunting was now merely thoughtful.

"Until next time."