Chapter Ten: Pixis

Pixis residence

Maggot's crown

Outer Pit

Pitland AKA "The Pit"

Continent of Zenithan

The battlefield was a graveyard of ruin. Smoke coiled through the air, mixing with the scent of burning circuits and blood. Shattered walls loomed like jagged tombstones, their edges still glowing from recent blasts.

Pixis was losing.

I saw him on his knees, blood pooling beneath him, his breaths ragged, his body trembling as Psionic Reinforcement flickered and failed. He had fought like a titan, holding back the inevitable with sheer will, but even the strongest walls crumble. His defenses had finally cracked.

And towering over him, vibro-blade humming with psionic disruption, stood the Ghostkiller Leader. Rowena reached him first, her movements sluggish, her body still aching from her previous battle—but her resolve burned undimmed. I arrived a second later, my heart hammering, my fists clenched so tightly my knuckles cracked. I had moved faster than I should have been able to, my instincts overriding reason, pushing me forward. And in that moment—

The Ghostkiller Leader struck.

The blade plunged into Pixis' gut, twisting with brutal efficiency. He grunted, his face tightening—not with fear, but frustration. Even now, he fought against it, his hands struggling to clamp around the Ghostkiller Leader's wrist. But his strength was failing. His body wasn't responding anymore. Blood poured freely. I felt its weight, the finality pressing down on me like a crushing force. Pixis had fought too hard, for too long. And now he couldn't continue the fight.

I moved first. A blur of motion. A shockwave erupted the moment my foot left the ground, the force of my movement cracking the surface beneath me. I crossed the distance in an instant—faster than even Rowena could track. I threw a punch—raw, unfiltered destruction packed into a single strike. The Ghostkiller Leader twisted at the last second, his armored forearm snapping up to block.

The impact rippled through the air, the sheer kinetic energy fracturing the ground beneath us. The force should have sent him flying—but it didn't. He slid back, just a few feet. Not nearly far enough. His Internal sight had already adjusted, his movements too fluid, too controlled. Instead of resisting the blow, he absorbed it, redirecting the momentum like he had seen it coming all along. I barely had time to react before—Rowena was already there.

Her Psionic Reinforcement flared at full power, her body hardening, every muscle and tendon enhanced by raw psychic energy. She moved with the brutal precision of a warrior who had lived through too many battles to hesitate. She drove her knee into the Ghostkiller Leader's ribs, then followed up with a telekinetic-powered elbow strike aimed straight for his head. He barely flinched. Instead, he rolled with the attack, flowing around her blows like he had already seen them happen. Like they were predictable. Then—he countered.

Rowena barely had time to react before the Ghostkiller dropped low, his foot sweeping beneath her. She moved to counter—but it was a feint. His real attack came from his other hand. A psychic disruption wave, point-blank to her abdomen. The invisible force slammed into her, punching through her defenses, and shattering her balance. I saw her gasp, her body momentarily disconnected from her mind, her psionic control forcibly severed.

The Ghostkiller didn't waste a second. His vibro-blade was already in motion, slicing toward her throat. I intercepted. I shouldn't have been fast enough. But I was. My hand caught the blade mid-motion, fingers wrapping around the vibrating metal with raw strength alone. The edge tore into my palm, the sharp bite of pain immediate, warm blood dripping down my wrist. But my grip was unbreakable. And then—I pulled.

For the first time, the Ghostkiller lost his balance. His perfect footwork, his effortless grace—disrupted. I drove an uppercut into his chin, a strike meant to send a lesser man into the stratosphere. But he adapted instantly. He didn't fight the momentum—he used it, flipping mid-air, twisting his body, landing as if the entire exchange had been part of his plan. His Internal sight saw everything. And now? He wasn't just defending. He was attacking. The Ghostkiller Leader moved like water—effortless, fluid, untouchable. Every action flowed into the next, and every counter was executed with pinpoint precision.

 Against me, he used calculated footwork and force redirection, neutralizing my raw strength with pure technique. Against Rowena, he exploited the gaps in her telekinetic flow, sensing her energy spikes before they even fully formed. He fought both of us at once—not just surviving, but winning. Rowena steadied her breath, adjusting her stance. Telekinetic bursts wouldn't work—he predicted them too easily. Direct strikes wouldn't land unless perfectly timed.

She reinforced her entire body, shifting into close-quarters combat. If she couldn't overpower him at range, she'd break him up close. I had already begun adapting. No more reckless attacks. No more wild swings. He wasn't invincible. He had a pattern—I just had to find it.I rushed in low, throwing a feint punch—the same kind of trick he had used before. The Leader reacted instinctively, shifting his stance to counter- And Rowena struck from behind.

A brutal telekinetic shockwave, focused and condensed—aimed directly at the back of his skull. The Leader barely managed to dodge, shifting at the last second—But I was already there. I drove my knee into his ribs, the impact reverberating through his body. Before he could recover, I followed with a crushing elbow to his temple. For the first time—The Ghostkiller stumbled. His expression remained blank. Cold. Unreadable. But his stance shifted.

He wasn't playing anymore. He wasn't testing us. He was going to kill us. I felt the wave of murderous intent rolling off him. A surge of Astral-Tech energy erupted from his armor, circuits pulsing with an eerie, unstable glow. His Mind's Eye ignited, an unnatural luminescence flickering in his irises—a sign that his perception had sharpened beyond mortal limits. Then he moved. Twice as fast. Rowena barely managed to block his next strike, her arms snapping up just in time—only for the sheer force to send her skidding back.

I felt it before I saw it. A shockwave detonated through my ribs. My breath hitched as pain exploded through my torso, sending me staggering back. Before I could recover—he capitalized. His form flickered, reappearing in front of Rowena as if reality itself had skipped a frame. His blade came down. Rowena crossed her arms, reinforcing them to the limit, catching the weapon between them. Metal shrieked as energy surged between them, but the force wasn't just physical—It was pure psychic suppression.

I saw the way her body trembled, the weight of his will pressing down, trying to crush her mind from the inside out. Too strong. I moved. Before he could break her, I lunged—grabbing him by the throat from behind and lifting him off the ground.The Leader reacted instantly, jabbing his elbow backward with surgical precision. The impact slammed into my ribs, forcing me to release him— But that moment was all Rowena needed.

She let out a sharp exhale, her focus razor-thin and channeled every ounce of reinforcement she had left. Her palm slammed into his chest. The impact didn't just push him back— It sent him crashing through three walls.I stood there, panting, my chest rising and falling in sharp, ragged breaths. Blood dripped from my hands, pooling between my fingers, warm and slick. Some of it was mine. Some of it wasn't. My muscles screamed, and my ribs ached from the shockwave that had nearly folded me in half, but I pushed the pain aside. Rowena steadied herself beside me, her stance shaky, her breaths uneven.

I could see the way her body trembled, her vision unfocused, her reinforcement flickering—she had given everything in that last strike. And yet…He was still standing. From the rubble, the Ghostkiller Leader rose once more. His armor, once pristine, was cracked, fractures running through the plating like veins of shattered glass. Bruises darkened his skin where my blows had landed. He had taken real damage. But his Internal sight still glowed. That eerie, pulsating light—calculating, adapting, watching.

This wasn't over. A cold weight settled in my gut. No matter how much we pushed him, no matter how many times we knocked him down—he wasn't breaking. He was studying us. Learning. Waiting for the exact moment to strike. And then I heard it. A faint, wet gasp behind me.

Pixis.

I turned. He was still on his knees, blood pooling beneath him in a slow, expanding circle. His face had paled, his breath uneven, his chest barely rising. He was dying. And the battle wasn't over yet.

The battlefield crackled with raw energy, the air thick with the clash of psychic wills. Dust and debris swirled around us, caught in the unseen currents of force radiating from our battle. Every breath tasted of smoke and blood, and every muscle in my body thrummed with the aftershock of our attacks.

And yet—he still stood.The Ghostkiller Leader was battered, and bruised, his armor fractured from the force of our assault. But his posture was unshaken, his Internal sight still glowing—that eerie, predatory light of absolute calculation. Rowena tensed beside me, her stance shifting, her fingers twitching as she prepared to move. I adjusted my weight, my bloodied fists clenching at my sides.I wasn't going to let him come near Pixis—

Then the barrier formed. A pulse of invisible force exploded outward, sending a rippling distortion through the air. Before I could react, a solid psionic wall materialized between us and the battle—a barrier that sealed Rowena and me outside.

Rowena slammed against it, her telekinetic pressure surging, pushing, trying to break through. The energy crackled in resistance, warping but never breaking. I growled, stepping forward and driving my fist into the wall. The ground beneath me cracked from the sheer force of my punch, the shockwave spreading out in all directions—But the barrier didn't even tremble.

My stomach twisted. Pixis had locked us out. Inside the domain, beyond the shimmering veil of psionic force—The true battle began. Pixis rose to his feet. I felt it before I saw it—the shift in the air, the surge of Astral energy rolling off him in waves. It crackled like a storm, thick, oppressive, suffocating. The ground beneath him trembled, dust swirling in unseen currents, drawn toward the force of his will. He was dying—his blood still pooled at his feet, seeping into the fractured stone.

His body was failing, breaking apart. And yet… he stood. Before my eyes, his frail frame changed. His muscles thickened, his posture straightened, and the withering weakness of old age burned away under the surge of Psionic Reinforcement flooding through him. Every breath he took pulsed with power, the sheer pressure of his presence expanding until it felt as if the battlefield itself bowed beneath him.

Then I saw his eyes. They flickered—no longer clouded with age, but filled with something ancient, terrifying, unrelenting. The weight of a Titan. I swallowed hard. He wasn't just an old man anymore. He was Pixis. The warrior. The Operator. The Titan of the Past. One last time. Across from him, the Ghostkiller Leader tilted his head, his Internal sight analyzing, calculating, adjusting. Even now, he wasn't afraid. He didn't hesitate. He didn't speak. He simply attacked.

Their first exchange shattered the air. The force of their clash sent a shockwave rolling through the battlefield, distorting the dust and debris caught in its wake. I could barely track them—blurs of motion colliding, separating, striking, countering. Each impact sent deep tremors through the ruins, the sheer magnitude of their battle warping the space around them.

Pixis was beyond mortal limits. Psionic Reinforcement made his body unbreakable, every fiber of his being hardened to withstand impossible force. Telekinetic Dominion turned the very battlefield into his weapon—walls, rubble, the air itself bent to his will. The Art of Internal sight allowed him to move three steps ahead, predicting, dismantling, and overpowering.

The Ghostkiller Leader was fast. Pixis was faster. A flicker of movement—Pxis twisted past a strike, his elbow driving into the Leader's ribs. The force sent the assassin crashing through his shockwave, his body tumbling across the ruins like a ragdoll. But he recovered instantly. His form flickered—vanishing, reappearing mid-strike, his blade aimed for Pixis' throat. And Pxis caught it. With one hand.

The vibro-blade hummed with astral disruption, its molecular edge designed to tear through anything—armor, flesh, psionic barriers—Except Pixis' skin. His body had been reinforced beyond breaking. The blade stalled, its deadly hum sputtering against his grip. Then? He crushed it. The weapon snapped like brittle glass, shards of metal raining to the ground, useless. For the first time—the Ghostkiller Leader hesitated. I saw it. A flicker in his stance, an imperceptible pause. A moment of doubt. He hadn't expected this.

Pixis launched his counterattack. The ground shattered beneath Pxis' feet as he unleashed his full power. A tidal wave of psionic force erupted outward, warping the air itself. The ruins trembled, broken steel and shattered concrete ripping free from the earth, twisting under his command. His Telekinetic Dominion expanded—an invisible hand reshaping the battlefield into a living weapon.

Chunks of debris became spears, jagged and lethal, launching at hypersonic speeds toward their target. The Ghostkiller Leader dodged—But not all of them.A slab of twisted metal slammed into his side, the impact rippling through his armor, sending him spinning through the air. I saw it—his Internal sight faltering, struggling to keep up with the relentless, suffocating onslaught.

Pxis didn't give him the chance to recover. He closed the distance in an instant—And drove his fist into the assassin's gut. The impact was thunderous, a shockwave blasting outward from the sheer force. The Ghostkiller vomited blood, his armor fracturing, cracks splintering across its surface like shattered glass. But even as he reeled, he still adapted. In a single, desperate motion, he twisted mid-air, his armor flaring with a pulse of Astral-Tech energy.

A burst of raw propulsion sent him flickering out of reach, disengaging before the next blow could land. He reappeared at a distance, his breathing ragged, his stance shaken. And Pixis?He stood unmoving, his silhouette wreathed in pure psychic radiance, his very presence vibrating with power. This was not a frail old man. This was a warrior who once stood close to the pinnacle of psychic strength. And he wasn't done yet.

As the battle raged, Pixis' voice resonated in my mind—not through sound, but through the weight of his thoughts, pressing against my consciousness like a whisper woven in steel.

"I'm sorry, kid."The words hit harder than any strike."Sorry for never telling you the truth. For hiding who your parents were. For not being there when you needed answers."

I froze, my breath hitching. The battlefield blurred for a fraction of a second, and the chaos around me dulled beneath the gravity of his voice.

"My past has finally caught up to me, Ash. I knew this day would come. But you… you still have a future. I won't be there to see it—but you have to live." My fists trembled.

"Don't say that. You can still win. You—"

"No, I can't."The words were calm. Certain. Not in defeat, but in acceptance. Then, through the telepathic link, I heard something that nearly shattered me—A chuckle. Low, tired, but full of something so achingly familiar."I was always going to die today. That much was certain."

"But I left something for you." My heart pounded.

"A Psydrive. It holds everything I know. About you. About your parents. About the truth I never told you."The battlefield kept moving, but my world stopped. Rowena was watching me, her gaze sharp, wary—sensing the invisible conversation passing between us, the weight of it pressing down on my shoulders like a crushing force.

"Forgive me for not telling you sooner."The barrier flickered, for just a moment—just long enough for me to see Pxis' gaze, steady and unyielding."But now… it's time for me to do my part." The Ghostkiller Leader adjusted his stance. His movements were slower now, more measured. The cracks in his armor, the faint tremor in his breath—he felt it. This fight wasn't going his way. He needed to end it. A final psychic surge erupted from his form, his Internal Sight burning brighter than ever, his mind pushing beyond its limits.

Pxis smiled faintly. Then he let go. He stopped holding back. Stopped fighting like a man with a future. And for the first time since this battle began—he moved like the legend he once was. His energy burned at maximum output, his body flickering beyond human perception.

For a single, fleeting moment—He was untouchable. The Ghostkiller Leader struck first—but Pixis wasn't there. He dodged. The second strike came—a feint, meant to bait him—he was already moving past it. A third attack, lightning-fast—Pxis slipped through it like smoke through fingers. And then he struck back. His fists slammed into the assassin's armor, one after another, breaking through the reinforced plating, crushing the man beneath the sheer, unrelenting force.

Every impact sent shockwaves rippling through the battlefield, the ruins trembling under the pressure. The Ghostkiller was losing. But he wasn't alone. I saw it too late. The faintest shift in his aura. A flicker in the air. His last trick. Pixis knew. His Internal sight had already seen it coming. In the next instant—the battlefield collapsed.

The Ghostkiller activated a self-destruct Astral Core. A forbidden burst of energy, a technique meant to obliterate everything in a massive wave of destruction, reducing the battlefield to nothing but scattered atoms—at the cost of his own life. Pixis moved before Rowena or I could react. A final barrier erupted, sealing himself and the Ghostkiller inside.

I lunged forward, my throat raw with a shout that didn't matter. Rowena slammed her hands against the barrier, her power flaring—but it wouldn't break. And then—Light. A detonation of pure, cataclysmic energy. The barrier collapsed. The battlefield went silent. And when the smoke cleared? Pxis was gone. The Ghostkiller Leader was gone. The battle was over. And both warriors were dead.