Blue Hurricane

The air was saturated with an energy that distorted the very nature of the world. It was as if time hesitated, folding and reconstructing itself in erratic ways. Every sound, every impact, resonated across multiple moments simultaneously, creating echoes that overlapped like a dissonant symphony of reality itself. The village ground, already devastated, was a field of vibrant ruins, pulsing with Magnalith's malevolent influence.

And beneath it all, Ethan was buried.

He could feel the crushing weight of rocks above him, dust seeping into his lungs with every shallow breath, but something kept him intact. The immortal essence of the cultivator still enveloped his body, an invisible barrier warm in contrast to the cold stone around him. The sensation was strange—like floating inside a cocoon of energy, not trapped under tons of debris.

Lian Xuan's voice echoed in his mind, calm and unwavering, like a thought that wasn't his own.

— This is the safest place for you now, boy.

Ethan took a deep breath, the thin air burning in his lungs. It made sense. If he was there, it was because the cultivator had deemed him incapable of facing what was happening above.

But he wanted to see.

He wanted to feel the open air, hear the screams and clash of titans with his own ears. He wanted to do something, anything. Instead, he was buried, powerless, reduced to a spectator in his own story.

A rumble shook the earth.

He felt the tremor rise through his body, dust particles loosening from the stones above, falling onto his face like small reminders of his fragility. He clenched his fists, his fingers trembling not just from fear but from the fury of being helpless.

Above, the impossible was happening.

Magnalith, now fully awakened, was an abomination that defied all logic. There was no symmetry, no stable form—a colossus of chaos and disorder, an entity whose very existence was an affront to the concept of reality. Its roots rose from the ground, not as mere extensions but as ravenous serpents, pulsing with living malevolence. Each exhaled a dark mist that corroded everything it touched: wood, stone, flesh.

The sky above the village was shattered.

Invisible cracks crossed the firmament, subtle lines that distorted space and time. The sun seemed a distant memory, overshadowed by the sickly light emanating from the creature. The air vibrated with an impossible frequency, a hum that seeped into the bones of anyone nearby.

Every blow dealt to Magnalith did not remain. The time around it was a toy it molded at will. Wounds opened and closed in the blink of an eye, as if they had never existed. Space itself bent to shield the creature, creating a distortion field where past and present grotesquely intertwined.

And yet, Lian Xuan attacked.

The cultivator was a blur of blue light, moving faster than the eye could follow. His white robes were torn, tinged by the luminous energy emanating from his own body. Every palm strike seemed to contain the power of a dying star, sparks of blue flames exploding on impact, burning through Magnalith's layers of roots.

But it wasn't enough.

— No matter how much damage I cause… it cannot be harmed while within the temporal flow, Lian Xuan murmured, his voice filled with frustration and focus.

The cultivator narrowed his eyes, calculating. If Magnalith used time as a shield, he would have to trap it in the present—a fixed point where the creature couldn't escape to the past or the future.

The battlefield no longer resembled a village. It was an apocalyptic wasteland, fragments of buildings floating in zero gravity, stones suspended in the air as if hesitating between falling or rising. The ground itself seemed to breathe, pulsing in sync with Magnalith's monstrous heart.

Seryne and the group pulled back, recognizing that facing Magnalith directly was suicide. Yet they felt drawn to the creature's presence, an emotional gravity pulling at their souls, demanding submission. It was more than fear. It was a primal sensation, an instinct etched into their bones screaming: You do not belong here.

But one figure did not retreat.

The Sorcerer floated above the chaos.

His mask concealed any emotion, but his relaxed posture and the subtle gleam in his eyes betrayed an almost childlike ecstasy. His books spun around him in impossible orbits, pages tearing free and reforming in the air, while glowing characters danced like living constellations.

Seryne watched him, her stomach knotting with a dark premonition.

— The Sorcerer is preparing something…

She shivered, the chill having nothing to do with the rarefied air.

— This battle is beyond what I can handle. I… I can foresee some fatal attacks and try to guide our movements.

She turned to Zeta 4, the gleam of determination replacing the fear.

— But you… you're not organic. I don't know if I can connect with you.

The android didn't hesitate.

— My technology has a psionic interface. You can access me.

Seryne nodded, and her eyes glimmered for a moment, connecting to Zeta's mind as if bridging the gap between cold logic and human instinct.

Kiyoshi Takahara did not wait.

The warrior's instinct screamed for him to act.

His hand moved with the precision of years of discipline, sliding the katana from its sheath in a motion so smooth it seemed part of the very air. The metallic sound of steel echoed like the heartbeat of a giant.

The world fell silent.

For a fleeting moment, everything froze. The sounds of battle, the screams, Magnalith's roar… all went quiet, except for the sound of the blade cutting through the air.

The group saw only a residue of his image before he vanished.

And then he was there.

A flash of silver and steel cutting through the chaos, moving with a speed that defied perception. Kiyoshi crossed the battlefield, his blade gleaming like silent thunder. The slash struck Magnalith's colossal leg, and for the first time, the creature hesitated.

But it wasn't enough.

The blade cut halfway through, a clean strike that should have been fatal for any being. However, time folded around the wound. Space curved, the moment was erased, and the flesh regenerated as if the blow had never existed.

And then time stopped—for Kiyoshi.

The samurai felt his body freeze, every muscle locked in an eternal instant. He couldn't breathe, couldn't blink. The absolute cold of frozen time was worse than any blade piercing his flesh.

And, at the edge of his frozen vision, Magnalith's grotesque hand advanced.

Like something inevitable.

Like fate descending upon him.

But then, the cultivator appeared.

Lian Xuan appeared between Kiyoshi and death, a surge of pure blue light.

His eyes blazed with the intensity of a thousand stars. His essence expanded, no longer confined by the human form he inhabited.

The storm began.

The sky was consumed by a hurricane of blue flames, a spiral of energy that engulfed Magnalith's entire arm. The heat was so intense that the air crackled, invisible fractures forming in the very fabric of reality.

But Lian Xuan didn't stop.

The hurricane grew, a living storm fueled by his indomitable will. The monster was swallowed, trapped in a vortex of fire and wind as the cultivator manipulated not just the elements but the very flow of time around the creature.

Magnalith's roots thrashed, trying to escape, distorting space to open rifts into the past or future. But Lian Xuan held the temporal flow, locking the creature in an eternal present, where time couldn't heal it.

The monster roared, a sound that didn't belong to this world.

The very sky trembled.

And beneath it all, buried, Ethan felt the weight of reality shift.