The Elite Guards, unlike regular soldiers, they only appeared during large-scale battles. They were Everdawn's finest—the last wall of defense before the Magic Association itself.
Omiria grinned, licking her lips. "You guys look interesting."
"Brace yourselves!" shouted one of the elites.
In the blink of an eye, Omiria vanished again.
She appeared right in front of the commander who had just spoken, her blade flashing toward his neck.
He reacted instantly—drawing his sword and blocking the strike, then chanting, "Wind burst!" A gust exploded outward, forcing her back.
But Omiria twisted in midair, dodging the spell, and launched herself down from above, aiming for his throat again.
"Fireball!" another elite shouted, hurling a blazing sphere toward her.
"Water pulse!" another followed up, releasing a pressurized blast of water.
Omiria kicked off the air, flipping backward and narrowly avoiding both attacks. The fireball and water collided—creating a thick cloud of steam and smoke.
The first elite guard used the moment to retreat to safety, but the assault didn't stop.
Two more elite guards raised their hands. "Earth rise!"
The ground split—massive stone spikes launched from beneath and in front of Omiria.
She rolled to the side, barely escaping.
"Sword art: Lethal Strike!" the commander lunged forward, his blade glowing silver as he aimed straight for her heart.
At the same time, another elite shouted, "Stone Bullet!"
Hundreds of stones shot toward her like arrows.
Three other guards quickly summoned walls around her—one to each side, one behind.
"Stone Wall!"
Omiria deflected the incoming stones with incredible speed—but one hit her wrist, knocking her blade from her hand. It clattered to the ground beside her.
The first elite guard closed in fast. "It's over for you!" he declared.
Omiria looked up, bored. "It's getting boring."
"Dark Magic: Dark Hardening!"
Her skin turned jet black—hardened like obsidian.
She moved faster than before—too fast to follow—and slashed the commander across the chest with her bare hand.
Blood splattered across the stone. The commander collapsed, gasping in pain, the wound deep and bleeding heavily.
"We need to get him to safety!" one of the elites shouted, rushing toward him.
"You need to survive for that," Omiria whispered.
Before he could react, her blade returned to her hand as if called by her will.
A single motion—and his head rolled to the ground.
She instantly dashed to the next target. The guard raised a magic barrier in desperation—
But Omiria passed straight through it, like shadow through smoke, and slit his throat with a quick flick of her wrist.
One after another, the elite guards fell.
Their golden robes were soon stained red.
Omiria stood amidst the bodies, smiling faintly.
At Clay's side…
"Don't run from us," Clay said, his voice echoing through the narrow street. "We're just ending your suffering."
Civilians screamed and scattered, desperately running for their lives. Guards threw whatever they could find—rocks, broken furniture, metal pieces—toward him.
Clay caught the smaller ones effortlessly and crushed them in his hand. The larger ones he simply punched or pushed aside, shattering them to pieces.
"What kind of monster is he?" one of the guards shouted.
Clay smiled, his voice soft "Come on… that hurts my feelings."
"Like hell you even have feelings!" the guard yelled back.
In an instant, Clay vanished from sight. The air trembled for a moment—then he was suddenly standing right in front of the guard.
"Don't you ever call me a monster again," Clay whispered. His smiling face twisted into something dark, cold, and terrifying.
"I'm a human… just like you." His grin returned, unnaturally wide and cheerful, as if nothing had happened.
The guard stumbled backward, collapsing to the ground. His breathing grew heavy; sweat trickled down his face as his entire body trembled.
"Get a hold of yourself!" a commanding voice shouted from behind Clay.
Clay turned his head slowly, and his smile brightened. Three figures stood behind him—each wearing the white and gold robes of the Elite Guards.
"You guys must be the elite guards!" Clay said, sounding genuinely excited, his tone that of a child meeting his heroes.
"What's with that reaction?" one of the elites asked, gripping his staff.
"I've been wanting to meet you," Clay replied. "To see if the rumors are true—if you're really as strong as everyone says."
"Are you mocking us?" the elite guard snapped.
"I would ne—" Before Clay could finish, the branches of nearby trees suddenly twisted into sharp spikes and launched toward him.
Clay crossed his arms in front of his body, taking the full impact. The branches shattered on contact.
"That's bad manners," Clay said, lowering his arms. "Not letting someone finish their sentence."
"Like we'd care what you say!" the elite who attacked with tree magic retorted.
Clay noticed something under his feet—a faint, glowing sigil etched into the ground.
His eyes widened slightly. A magic circle.
He jumped high into the air just as the ground erupted in an explosion of fire and dust.
But before he could regain balance, another elite appeared above him and punched him square in the face. His fist was coated in thick rock, turning the strike into a battering ram.
Clay plummeted to the ground, and the moment he hit, the magic circle below him detonated, creating a massive shockwave.
Smoke and dust filled the air.
"Did we get him?" one of the elites asked, panting.
"I don't think so…" another said, stepping back cautiously.
Through the haze, a silhouette began to form. The smoke slowly cleared—revealing Clay, standing perfectly unharmed. Not a single scratch on his body.
"What kind of monster are you?" the elite guard muttered in disbelief.
"He's off guard—attack him!" shouted one of the regular guards from earlier.
The elite guards' eyes widened. "No, stay back!"
But it was too late. The group of regular guards charged toward Clay from every direction.
Clay's cheerful smile faded again. He raised his hands together—then clapped.
The sound was deafening. A wave of pure force exploded outward, creating a powerful gust that sent the charging guards flying through the air. They slammed into nearby trees and walls, crumpling to the ground unconscious—or worse.
One of the elites could barely believe what he saw. "What the—what is that power?"
Clay's head tilted downward slightly, his bangs shadowing his eyes. His voice was low and trembling with rage.
"I said…" He looked up, his crimson eyes glowing faintly in the dark.
"Don't. Call. Me. A monster."
The air around him began to tremble. The ground cracked under his feet. His smile was gone—replaced by something far more terrifying: a blank, emotionless stare.