Chapter 34: THe Battle Begins: The Fallen Hero versus Trifold Dominion Escort!

The Fallen Hero moved like a shadow through the

dim corridors, his steps silent, his presence an unstoppable force. The air

grew colder as he approached the Power Room — the heart of the Obsidian Wraith

— but just as he neared the entrance, a frantic sound caught his attention.

Veytex came

sprinting around the corner, his face pale with fear, his breath ragged. He

stumbled, his eyes wide with panic as he ran, desperate to escape whatever

nightmare was chasing him.

But it wasn't the

nightmare behind him he needed to fear.

The Fallen Hero

lunged.

In a flash of golden

light and pristine white energy, the spear shot forward — swift and deadly.

Veytex's foot caught on a jagged piece of debris, and he fell hard. He hit the

ground with a cry, rolling onto his back — just in time to see the weapon's gleaming

tip descending toward his chest.

He braced for the

end.

But it didn't come.

At the last second,

a blur of movement intercepted the strike. Sanyer dropped to his knees, his

arms outstretched in supplication. "My Sire!"

he cried out, his voice trembling. "It's the Council's order — we can't do

anything about it!"

For a long,

terrible moment, there was only silence. The Fallen Hero stood motionless, the

spear inches from Veytex's heart, the golden aura crackling around them.

Slowly, the weapon lowered, the energy dimming — but the tension in the air

remained, thick and suffocating.

The Fallen Hero

tilted his head, his voice calm but commanding. "I see great potential in both

of you — the makings of elite assassins. You have the skill, the drive… but you

lack purpose." He paused. "Come. Train with me. Fight for the good."

Veytex stared up

in disbelief, his chest heaving. Sanyer didn't hesitate. "Yes, my Sire," he

said firmly, his eyes blazing with newfound resolve. "We will fight by your

side."

The Fallen Hero

nodded approvingly. "Good." He turned toward the Power Room, his voice lowering

to a dangerous calm. "Keep the Abyss in a dormant state — and lock it down. No

one must awaken it."

Sanyer bowed his

head. "It will be done."

As the two rose to their feet, the Fallen Hero moved

forward without another word — a silent storm, heading toward whatever darkness

lay ahead.

The air grew thick with tension as the Fallen Hero

turned, his movements calm but deliberate — and then the ambush began.

Without warning,

rapid bursts of Dark Ripple Energy tore through the air, streaking toward him

from both front and back. Kaelis and Draven attacked in perfect unison, their

timing impeccable. The bullets struck with brutal force, colliding inside the

Fallen Hero's body and detonating in a violent burst of shadow and fire.

The impact sent him

staggering. The golden glow around his pristine white weapon flickered as his

knees threatened to buckle. Smoke rose from his armor, and for the first time,

the indomitable warrior looked vulnerable — about to collapse.

But before he could

recover, Zareth emerged from the shadows, a predatory gleam in his eyes. He

moved with ruthless precision, a high-tech staff crackling with Dark Ripple

Energy clutched tightly in his hands.

With a savage cry,

Zareth lunged — and the staff struck home.

The weapon pierced

the Fallen Hero's solar plexus, the searing energy burning through flesh and

armor alike. But Zareth didn't stop there. He struck again. And again. Nine

times the staff plunged into the same wound, each stab sending shockwaves of

agony rippling through the Fallen Hero's body.

The

once-invincible figure faltered, his breath ragged, his vision darkening at the

edges. The room spun, and his strength began to slip away. Zareth raised the

staff for the final blow — the tenth strike, the one meant to end it all.

But the Fallen

Hero's eyes snapped open.

With terrifying

speed, his hand shot out — not to block the strike, but to take control of it.

In an instant, the weapon twisted in Zareth's grasp, and the Fallen Hero

activated the hidden power on the opposite end of the staff.

A blade of pure,

malevolent darkness sprang to life — the Dark Ripple Saber.

It moved faster

than thought, and before Zareth could react, the saber had already pierced his

solar plexus. His eyes went wide with shock as the deadly energy ripped through

him. The staff fell from his hands, clattering uselessly to the ground.

Zareth dropped to

his knees, his strength bleeding away along with his life. He gasped once, his

lips forming words that never came — and then he collapsed, his body still.

But the battle was

far from over.

Kaelis and Draven

stepped forward, their weapons blazing with Dark Ripple Energy. Kaelis

brandished a massive battle axe, its edge humming with destructive power.

Draven twirled a wickedly curved scythe, its blade trailing tendrils of black

energy like smoke.

The Fallen Hero

straightened slowly, the wound in his chest still smoldering — but his stance

was steady. Blood dripped from his armor, and yet the golden light of his

weapon flared brighter, defiant.

The two assassins

circled him, their eyes filled with fury and determination.

"No more tricks,"

Kaelis growled, tightening his grip on the axe. "This ends here."

Draven's voice was

cold and lethal. "We'll see how much of a hero you are when you're nothing but

a memory."

The Fallen Hero

didn't answer. He simply raised his weapon, the pristine white blade gleaming

with golden fire.

And then the battle began.

The battle raged on like a storm, Kaelis and

Draven unleashing relentless, rapid attacks powered by the vicious Dark Ripple

Energy. Their weapons flashed and spun — the massive battle axe cleaving

through the air with devastating force, the scythe whipping and slicing with

terrifying speed. But no matter how fast or fierce their strikes, they never

found their mark.

The Fallen Hero

moved like a phantom.

He flowed between

their attacks with impossible grace, his body a blur of swift, precise motion.

The axe grazed nothing but empty space. The scythe's deadly arc sliced through

shadows. Every attack missed — and every second that passed tightened the noose

around the two assassins.

For an hour, they

fought — but only one of them truly battled.

Kaelis gritted his

teeth, frustration mounting. "Stand still and

fight!" he roared, swinging the axe with all his strength.

But the Fallen Hero

was already gone, the golden aura of his weapon flickering as he twisted around

the strike, untouched.

Draven's eyes

narrowed, his scythe spinning as he tried to predict the next movement. "You

can't dodge forever," he hissed.

But he was wrong.

Because the Fallen

Hero didn't need to dodge forever. He only needed one opening.

And he found it.

In the blink of an

eye, the tide shifted.

The Fallen Hero's

eyes locked onto the smallest blind spot — a flaw in their perfect rhythm — and

he struck with the speed of lightning.

His weapon blurred

as it lashed out, and before Kaelis and Draven even understood what had

happened, their weapons were gone — the battle axe and scythe wrenched from

their hands and clattering to the ground with a deafening ring.

They froze.

But it was already

too late.

A flash of gold. A

whisper of wind.

And then the cold

kiss of a blade against their throats.

Blood spilled.

Kaelis collapsed

first, clutching his neck as his strength ebbed away. His voice was a rasping

croak as he looked up at the figure who had defeated them so easily. "What… do you want from us?" he gasped, his

vision swimming.

The Fallen Hero

stood over them, his face unreadable, his weapon still gleaming with the light

of pristine white energy. His voice was calm — but there was an edge to it, a

quiet fury simmering just beneath the surface.

"Nothing."

Draven fell to his

knees, his breath coming in shallow, ragged bursts. His hands trembled as he

fought against the inevitable, his eyes wide with fear and confusion. "Then why… why did you kill us?" he

whispered.

The Fallen Hero

looked down at them, his gaze like ice. And when he spoke, his words carried

the weight of judgment — and of vengeance.

"Because you have

dared to disturb the Abyss once again. And this time… there will be no

warnings."

The golden light

of his weapon flared brighter.

"Only slaughter."

The Fallen Hero stood over the broken bodies of

Kaelis and Draven, their lifeless forms slumped in a pool of blood. Without

hesitation, he drove the Dark Ripple Saber through their chests, the crackling

black energy hissing as it pierced through flesh and bone. The golden light of

his own weapon had dimmed, and his body trembled — but his will remained

unbroken.

With a single

powerful motion, he dragged their bodies behind him, their weight no burden to

his strength. The corridor was silent except for the sound of his heavy steps

and the faint scraping of their armor against the cold, metal floor.

When he reached the

Obsidian Wraith, he didn't stop. He moved with purpose — methodical and

precise. One by one, he gathered the corpses of the Segrito assassins, binding

them together with a thick rope, tying them in a grim procession. Their

lifeless forms dangled like trophies, and when the last knot was secured, he

attached the rope to the Obsidian Wraith's hull.

The air around him

was charged, the scent of blood and ozone thick. The Fallen Hero's fingers

danced across the ship's console, his vision blurring at the edges. He

programmed the Wraith's coordinates, setting its course toward the Segrito

stronghold — a message written in the language of death.

As the ships

roared to life, the Fallen Hero stumbled. The pain in his solar plexus burned

hotter, his body finally reaching its limit. The world tilted. He collapsed to

his knees, and then to the cold ground.

"Sire!"

The desperate cry

echoed through the hangar. Veytex and Sanyer sprinted toward him, their faces

etched with fear. They dropped to his side, their hands hovering uncertainly as

they tried to assess his wounds.

"What happened?"

Sanyer's voice cracked. "Who did this to you?"

The Fallen Hero's

breathing was ragged, his strength slipping away with every word. But his focus

remained sharp. "Listen," he rasped, his voice low but commanding. "Take Kyrin

and his team… to the Aether Coast District… in Neo-Kyoto." He coughed, blood staining

his lips. "Program their ships… to follow those coordinates."

Veytex nodded

frantically. "We'll do it. We swear it."

The Fallen Hero

reached into his cloak, pulling out a sleek, compact device — a Translocator.

He pressed it into Sanyer's hands, his grip surprisingly firm. "Once it's done…

use my ship. Go to the location programmed here."

"But, Sire—"

"Go."

The word left no

room for argument.

With visible

hesitation, they obeyed. The two assassins moved quickly, their steps

disappearing into the distance as they followed his orders. And when the hangar

finally fell silent again, the Fallen Hero let the darkness take him.

The last thing he

heard was the hum of the Obsidian Wraith's engines as it began its deadly

journey.

Moments later, the

stillness shattered.

A sleek, high-tech

ship descended from above, its metallic hull gleaming with an otherworldly

sheen. It landed without a sound, its design far more advanced than any vessel

of the Nine Nations.

The hatch opened

with a hiss, and five figures emerged — their silhouettes sharp against the

light spilling from the ship's interior. They moved with practiced urgency,

their steps synchronized and silent.

One of them

dropped to his knees beside the Fallen Hero, his voice tight with concern.

"It's our master!"

"Get him on the

ship," another commanded.

In seconds, they lifted him with care, carrying his broken

form aboard their vessel. The moment the hatch sealed shut, the ship began its

ascent, its engines leaving behind nothing but a single, pure pulse of energy —

a wave of power that rippled through the air like a silent promise of what was

to come.