Bone Breakers

Aren burst forward, feet hammering against the fractured ground as he charged with reckless speed, the Ogre Cleaver gleaming in his grip like a beast thirsting for blood.

"Take this!" he roared, muscles straining as he swung the massive blade in a wide arc, aiming straight for the Fighter's head with lethal precision.

But the B-Rank wasn't slow.

He ducked—fluid and fast—just before the blade could connect, air splitting with a sharp whistle.

"That it, punk!?" the Fighter barked, eyes alight with fury.

Without hesitation, he countered. His hammer came crashing forward, slamming into Aren's gut like a meteor.

"AGGHHHKK!!" Aren choked, blood erupting from his mouth in a vivid spray as his body was sent flying from the sheer force of the blow.

He twisted violently mid-air, limbs flailing—but his body healed rapidly, bones snapping back into place, skin sealing over torn muscle before he even hit the ground.

"Speed Boost!" Aren growled.

MP: 9/10

In an instant, his form vanished from the sky—nothing but a blur—then reappeared directly in front of the Fighter like a summoned storm.

But the B-Rank was ready.

"Not fast enough!" the Fighter bellowed, reacting with uncanny instinct as he swung his hammer sideways.

CLANG!

Their weapons collided with an explosive shockwave. The parry sent Aren flying back, his boots skidding against the shattered pavement as sparks danced beneath his feet.

Pain jolted up his arm—bones cracking violently. His right arm hung limp for a moment…

But only for a moment.

With a crunch and pop, it snapped back into place.

"We're just getting started!" Aren snarled, raising his cleaver again with eyes gleaming like molten gold.

Meanwhile, several meters away, the Mage watched in silent awe.

"That regeneration… it's not mana-based," he whispered, pupils narrowing. "He's not using any magic circles or chants. Could it be... an item ability?" His voice was low, tinged with both fear and curiosity.

Back in the fray, the Fighter went for another crushing overhead blow. The hammer whistled downward like divine punishment.

Aren raised his cleaver just in time.

BOOM!

The impact rocked his entire frame, the cleaver catching the attack—but barely. His legs buckled as bones fractured again, his arms screaming in pain.

"Damn it!" he cursed, biting back the agony.

But pain was no longer his enemy.

It was fuel.

As his body mended with unnatural speed, he dropped low, slipping past the Fighter's defenses with the grace of a serpent. He darted forward and—

SWIPE!

The cleaver found its mark, carving a shallow gash across the Fighter's shoulder. Blood sprayed into the air in a thin arc.

"Tch—lucky hit!" the Fighter grunted, staggering slightly.

Aren smirked, eyes narrowing. "Luck? Or are you just that bad?"

Without giving the man time to breathe, he swung again—this time aiming high, the edge of the cleaver howling toward the Fighter's neck like death incarnate.

"Don't get cocky!!" the Fighter roared, aura flaring violently.

"Impervious!"

His body surged with mana, glowing with bronze light as he prepared to tank the blow directly.

But Aren… just laughed.

The cleaver surged with a red pulse.

"Critical Hit."

MP: 7/10

The skill activated the moment the blade connected.

CRRRK!

The cleaver didn't just hit—it shattered the hammer's handle completely, slicing through it like it was made of brittle glass.

"What the—!?" the Fighter staggered back, shock overtaking his rage as his weapon fell to the ground in two broken pieces.

"Now," Aren said coldly, "you're actually starting to piss me off."

The Fighter's aura spiked—burning bright orange like wildfire.

"FURY BARRAGE!!"

With a scream of raw fury, he lunged.

His fists became a blur—striking in every direction all at once.

SMASH.

CRACK.

THWACK.

Face.

Chest.

Ribs.

Stomach.

The blows rained down in a relentless, bone-breaking storm.

Aren didn't dodge. He couldn't.

He took every hit—his body flailing, blood spraying, muscles tearing apart with every blow—yet never collapsing.

Because each time he broke, he regrew. Each rib crushed was rebuilt. Each organ punctured, repaired. His blood stained the battlefield like art—but he remained standing.

And it was horrifying to watch.

The Mage gagged, his face pale.

"Holy crap…" he muttered, stepping backward, hand trembling over his mouth. "I… I can't stomach this…"

He turned away, covering his eyes, bile rising in his throat.

Even a battle-hardened Mage—someone who had seen monsters tear cities apart—couldn't bear to witness this.

Because Aren… wasn't human anymore.

He was something else.