As Akin stepped through the glowing portal, the winds of Elarian whispered farewell behind him.
He was not abandoning the land—only expanding his reach.
But as his boots met the scorched soil of the outer border, his eyes narrowed.
The nearby land, once forgotten, now boiled with life—if one could call it that. Twisted, hulking abominations roamed the valley beyond the ridge. Their bodies were bloated with rot and fused with unnatural parts—spikes where arms should be, wings molded from bone and ash. Some dragged themselves on the ground like malformed centipedes; others stalked the skies in eerie silence.
Otherworldly beasts.
Their aura was thick. Foul. Familiar.
Corrupted gods.
And there were hundreds of them.
Akin stood still. Then, he raised his head slightly.
"Let's test how loud I need to whisper… before gods start to tremble."
He took one slow step forward—and unleashed his aura.
The air turned heavy. The skies dimmed.
From his body erupted a wave of raw, divine dominance—a black-blue pressure that roared across the field like a typhoon. The sheer spiritual weight dropped the temperature and bent space itself. Stones cracked beneath his feet. Trees withered instantly.
Dozens of beasts froze mid-motion.
Then their bodies began to shake.
And in a matter of seconds, over thirty of them collapsed, their hearts crushed under the weight of his presence—without him lifting a finger.
The rest began to screech, backing away in fear, claws digging into the ground as if trying to escape the crushing oppression that surrounded him.
And yet, Akin's expression was calm. Empty. Almost bored.
"I'm just getting started."
He snapped his fingers.
From his Vault Ring, the blade appeared—obsidian steel coiled with dancing blue lightning, the edge humming like thunder trapped in metal.
With one step forward, he vanished.
And reappeared within the crowd.
Then the massacre began.
Each swing of his blade erased life.
Lightning cracked across the earth as beasts exploded into chunks of burning flesh. Craters formed in his wake. His movement was too fast, his strikes too precise, too absolute.
He didn't dodge—he predicted.
And then… it happened.
In the middle of his rampage, a strange pulse passed through his mind.
Time slowed.
He saw it.
A flicker—barely half a second ahead—a four-eyed beast, slithering with speed, was preparing to leap at his back. Its claw, glowing with divine venom, aimed straight for his neck.
Akin's eyes flickered golden.
The future unveiled itself.
And the moment it became present…
He turned his palm.
BOOM.
A surge of golden lightning erupted from his body in a violent blast, tearing through the beast behind him before it ever reached. The lightning didn't stop—it shredded every nearby monster in a 20-meter radius, leaving only ashes and fire in its wake.
Smoke rose. Silence followed.
His eyes glowed, twin suns in the dark.
"That was cute," he muttered.
The remaining creatures panicked.
Some tried to flee. Others charged in desperation.
Akin walked into them without mercy. His blade danced. His body became a blur. Each step carved a path of destruction. His aura surged again—now mixed with streaks of yellow lightning, divine and pure, as if the skies themselves had chosen him as their storm.
By the time the carnage ended, the battlefield was a smoking wasteland.
Corpses sizzled.
The air tasted like ozone and fear.
And Akin stood alone—unscathed, untouched, unstoppable.
He raised his blade, letting the stormcoil of energy flicker off its tip.
"Next time," he said softly, "send more."
Meanwhile…
Back in Empheria, the capital stirred with new commands.
Inside the war hall, Jendol and Annabel stood ready as their first mission was delivered.
"A village near the eastern border has been overrun by beasts," the Vanguard captain said. "Daelrun. You'll be leading the counter-strike."
"Understood," Jendol replied, eyes sharp, gripping his glaive.
Annabel's expression was calm but focused. "We'll cleanse it."
The moment they arrived at Daelrun, the horrors began.
Houses shattered. Blood on stone. Villagers gone without trace.
Then the ground began to tremble.
From the forest emerged shadows—not like Akin's battle, but close. Mutated wolves with molten ribs, eyeless birds that screeched from twisted trees, and a horned beast dragging a massive tongue of fire behind it.
Jendol and Annabel didn't hesitate.
Light and flame clashed with corruption. Jendol's blade spun like a whirlwind, while Annabel's shield radiated pure energy, shielding civilians as she slashed with divine grace.
Then… the earth split.
A massive creature stepped through—a six-limbed chimera, god-touched, with a gaze that spoke into their minds:
"You will not survive."
Annabel tightened her grip. Jendol's shadow flared.
But neither backed down.
This wasn't just a battle.
It was their declaration.
They would not be forgotten heroes in Akin's shadow.
Back near the border…
Akin stood atop a cliff of corpses, watching the winds shift.
The corrupted gods had made their move.
So he raised his eyes to the sky—no fear, only hunger for what comes next.
"Your beasts were nothing," he said. "Now send me something divine."