Chapter 4: The sword and the executioner

*24 Hours until The Culmination*

Blake sprinted towards the beast, maintaining his pace as he muttered, "Fifth tier open, Ignition." A pulsing wave of fire radiated across his hand. With the Orc's arm lowered from the previous swing of its mace, Blake seized the opening, using the creature's arm as a pathway to run up its towering frame. He thrust his palm into its face and shouted, "BURN!"

Fire pulsed violently across the Orc's face as Blake unleashed the full force of his attack, creating a shockwave that sent both of them flying in opposite directions. Flames singed the Orc's braided hair as it staggered back.

The Orc roared in fury and slammed its mace down, creating a deep crater in the ground. Blake, unprepared for such raw power, lost his footing. Before he could regain it, a massive boulder hurtled towards him. If he didn't act fast, it would take him out.

In a split second, Blake did what he could. He activated his sixth tier in earth magic, hastily conjuring a wall. Though it wasn't fully formed, it absorbed much of the impact. Nevertheless, the sheer force of the attack sent him hurtling backwards at incredible speed, recreating the horrific scene the party had witnessed with the unnamed adventurer.

Blake crashed through trees, but the Orc wasn't done. Enraged, it barrelled through the forest in pursuit, smashing through trees in its relentless charge. Raising its mace high, it closed in.

Disoriented, Blake couldn't save himself this time. With the full force of its rage, the Orc swung its weapon. The mace tore through the canopy as if resistance meant nothing and struck Blake directly.

A blood-curdling scream, akin to the cries of monsters from the fallen kingdom, erupted from Blake. Blood splattered onto the Orc's body as it heaved, smoke escaping from its mouth in guttural exhales.

Blake's body was a ruin of broken bones and torn muscles. Yet, the creature saw that he was still alive and, almost impressed, growled, "Human still alive. I end your life now." Blake struggled, reaching desperately for his 'lifeline'—the vial Umiya had given him.

"I shouldn't have taken this mission. God damn it." His trembling hand grasped at the vial of regeneration—only to find it shattered from the previous impact. He willed himself to rise, but his body refused to obey. As another ruthless swing bore down on him, he closed his eyes. The strike never came.

A sharp burst of wind magic flickered through Blake's mana sense. He opened his eyes just in time to see a powerful gale knock the Orc back. From the treetops descended Xerxes Draedon, a young adventurer with a determination unlike any other. What set him apart was his unwavering resolve—when he set his mind to something, he achieved it.

Xerxes moved too fast for Blake's weary eyes to track as he roared, "Sixth tier open, Fire Force!" With Aya's wind magic amplifying his flames, the resulting inferno rivalled even Blake's fifth-tier fire. Together, they targeted the previous burn wound, intensifying the Orc's pain. It howled, clutching its face with its free hand—just as Xerxes had anticipated.

Seizing the moment, Xerxes tightened his grip on his sword, his muscles tensed, his expertise evident. With a decisive strike, he cleaved the Orc's hand clean off.

The Orc shrieked, staring at the stump where its hand had been, blood gushing uncontrollably. It bellowed curses in its native tongue, the sheer agony overwhelming.

Xerxes landed twenty metres away, with the Orc flailing between them. Aya appeared beside Blake, sighing. "Honestly, Blake, you've got the kids doing the heavy lifting. Once this vile beast is dealt with, I expect a generous sum of gold, mana knowledge, and preferential treatment."

Weakly, Blake rasped, "Just heal me, and I'll make it worth your while."

Aya rolled her eyes but handed him a vial of regeneration. As the potion took effect, his twisted limbs realigned, and fresh flesh covered his wounds. He took a deep breath and sat up instantly.

Xerxes called over, "I'm not letting anything happen to you, Blake. You pushed me forward—I owed you. Call it even."

Blake managed a genuine smile. "Yeah, Xerxes, Aya—this makes us even. Now, are you two ready to wipe out this race of Orcs?"

Xerxes nodded while Aya cracked her knuckles. Blake directed Xerxes to distract the beast. Xerxes fired a ray of flame at the ground, stirring up a thick cloud of dust around the Orc's feet. Aya used her mana to keep the dust condensed in place. Blake waited for his moment.

Relying on his senses, Xerxes tracked the Orc's mana signature and struck at its Achilles' heel. The beast buckled, swinging its mace wildly towards where it felt the attack, but its blind strike failed to connect, clearing only a small patch of dust.

Blake abandoned fire magic this time, instead summoning a colossal boulder from the sky, draining a great portion of his mana. He signalled Aya, who used wind magic to accelerate his leap.

Propelled by Aya's winds, Blake soared, activating his fifth-tier move, Ignition, to enhance his speed. He positioned himself behind the descending boulder, then used Ignition once more—shattering the rock into hundreds of spikes that rained down onto the Orc's back, impaling it like a monstrous porcupine.

The Orc roared, its strength fading. But as Blake's vision was obscured by the debris, he failed to notice the ominous glow radiating from the beast's body. Xerxes, still within the dust cloud, remained unaware as well.

Aya's voice rang out in alarm. "IT'S USING ITS MAGIC! EVERYONE, RUN!"

A surge of raw mana erupted from the Orc, blasting Blake even higher into the air and sending Xerxes crashing into a tree. In a final, desperate display of power, the beast slammed its weapon into the ground, rubble surging upwards. Then, with a burst of mana, it propelled the debris in all directions, striking everything in sight.

A wave of thick rubble tore through the landscape, snapping branches, impaling wildlife, and battering the entire party. Amid the dust, a subtle crimson glow flickered.

Aya, though injured, had shielded herself in time. Blake was not as fortunate—he lay unconscious, deep wounds covering his body. Xerxes fared no better.

A thick spike was embedded in his shoulder, rendering his right arm useless. Every movement sent waves of agony through him, but he gritted his teeth, blood dripping from his mouth as he fought to remain conscious. He coughed, spitting the last remnants of blood from his throat.

The Orc wasted no time. It had learned from its previous mistakes. Fixating on Aya, it lunged. With its mace dragging across the ground, it enhanced the attack with wind magic, sending her flying with terrifying ease.

Nothing was held back. The Orc had a new purpose. It would not stop until every single one of these humans was dead.

 The Orc surveyed the fallen party and cheered, raising his mace as the glow dissipated into mana particles in the air. He dominated the battlefield and began a victory dance in true orc fashion.

However, his celebration was premature. A ball of flame, soaring like a shooting star, struck the Orc at his key mana point, sending him tumbling just as he had done to the party members before.

A presence filled the air, one that made the Orc's entire demeanour change. The weight of the voice, though childish, carried such conviction that he had no choice but to listen. Rage, ferocity, and death loomed over him, and he felt it all too well.

"You bastard, do you really think this is our end?! No, this is only the beginning! My blade will carve the future I desire. I will forge my fate from this moment, and it starts with killing you. I won't let you bring any more harm to the people I care about, to my allies who fight beside me. Aya... Blake... I won't let your suffering be in vain. I promise." Xerxes refused to let the beast live another second. His body radiated flames naturally, a result of his rising bloodlust.

The beast began to rise again, but Xerxes didn't care. He was beyond it now. The Orc was just another obstacle in his way. His breathing became rhythmic, his mind flurrying with solutions to end this fight. The beast's movements felt like slow motion—every action readable, predictable.

There was no doubt left in Xerxes' mind. He could not lose. In that moment, memories of all the beasts he had slain flooded him—wolves, goblins, creatures of the dark. He channelled their power, absorbing their essence. A technique that allowed him to imbue his magic into an object, and now, his sword had become an extension of his very mana. The blade's temperature rose exponentially, silver turning crimson.

Xerxes' sword became the key to the Orc's demise. A drum-like pulse amplified his speed, the ground cracking beneath him as he launched forward.

The Orc, sensing this was his final battle, expended all his strength. His muscles bulged, veins pulsating with battle heat, blood trickling down his massive frame. As Xerxes closed the final distance, their weapons clashed in a ferocious collision. A sonic boom cracked through the air, sending leaves flying from trees, fire and mana crackling from their weapons. Both combatants roared, pouring everything they had into this final exchange.

The Orc refused to die by a human's blade. Summoning his last reserves of power, he pushed back against the inferno-infused sword, forcing Xerxes back slightly.

But just like the monster before him, Xerxes had no intention of giving up. Surrender was not an option. He screamed with all his might, blood spraying from his wounded right arm. Gritting his teeth through the pain, he gripped his hilt with both hands, reinforcing the power behind his strike. Every ounce of training, every struggle he had endured, was poured into this moment.

He broke through the Orc's resistance, his blade cutting into the very essence of its life force. The sheer force of his attack knocked the mace from the Orc's grasp, sending it flying out of reach. Xerxes recalled his battle with the wolves, their raw explosive power, the goblins' leaping agility. He had to become like the monsters he had slain to overcome greater foes. And so he did—without hesitation, without regret.

Xerxes' leg burned with a fearsome sapphire and emerald sheen as explosive energy surged through him - channelling that energy into a jump, he launched forward and he swung his blade in a vicious horizontal arc, unleashing a bellow of rage.

"DIE!"

His blade met the Orc's thick, muscular neck, the searing heat amplifying the sensation as flesh sizzled and incinerated. Xerxes pressed forward, ensuring his sword completely severed the beast's neck. His momentum carried him past the Orc, and he landed heavily, his blade still extended.

He did not look back—he didn't need to. His victory was confirmed by two heavy thuds.

One was the rolling head of the Orc. The other, the collapse of its lifeless body.

Xerxes sheathed his sword, his breath ragged, each inhale scorching his lungs. His heart pounded violently against his ribcage. The weight of exhaustion crushed his body, and no amount of resolve could keep him standing.

A surge of black bile erupted from his stomach. His vision blurred and darkened. He knew this sensation—it had been described to him long ago. The overuse of mana caused every pathway in his body to pulse and convulse, as though lightning coursed through his veins. Disorientation. A pounding heart. And then—inevitable unconsciousness.

Xerxes slumped to the ground, whispering, "Aya... Blake... Umiya. I won. You're... you're all safe..."

Then, only darkness remained.

Some time later...

"OH MY SCIENCE, Blondie! He did it! You did it! Blake did it! WE ACTUALLY DEFEATED THE BEAST! THIS IS A DAY THAT MARKS HISTORY—THE EXECUTIONER, XERXES DRAEDON!"

'Blondie' paid little mind to the fallen Orc, her focus entirely on her friend.

"Xerxes, wake up! I don't want to be a great adventurer if you and Dorian aren't there with me. Please, please, Xerx, wake up."

A faint stir. Slowly, Xerxes' eyes fluttered open. A voice had reached him. That was who he was—someone who would do anything for those he cared about. No matter the distance, no matter the odds, if they called for him, he would return.

Weakly, he murmured, "Aya."

He saw them—Aya, Umiya, and Blake, standing together.

Aya threw herself at Xerxes, wrapping him in a fierce embrace. Xerxes held her just as firmly, offering a weary smile.

"Thanks for trusting me, Aya. I know it was risky, but we won. We actually won."

Aya nodded, eyes shut as tears slipped down her cheeks. "I know. You outdid yourself today. I'm so glad you're still here with me. Don't be an idiot and hurt yourself like that again, fool!" she scolded.

Xerxes simply nodded.

He then noticed Blake clutching his right arm, a rare smile gracing his face. With a cheeky grin, Xerxes quipped, "You seem a lot happier than before. Perhaps you're pleased that you were coerced into coming here."

Blake chuckled. "Yeah, I am. You did it, kid—Xerxes, I mean. You actually pulled it off. That reckless plan of yours worked. You knew your body hadn't fully acclimated to the gems you'd absorbed, and you used that to your advantage. Magic heightens when pushed to its limits. The gem recognised your growth and forced your body to adapt. That's why, when we were all down, you didn't drink your potion. Not because you didn't want to—but because you'd already used it. You'd increased your mana capacity beforehand. The regeneration spell amplifies mana reserves, and with a higher capacity, you accelerated the change. You reckless bastard—I can't believe you."

Umiya beamed. "Benefits of striving to be extraordinary instead of settling for ordinary. Cough, cough—Blake."

Blake shot her a middle finger. Umiya only laughed in response.

Then, a brilliant light flared behind them. Instinctively, they turned.

Hovering above the battlefield was the Orc's soul shard. Deep crimson in colour, diamond-shaped, pulsing with an unearthly energy even in death. Just when they thought things were over, something started happening with the soul shard.