The silence was deafening. Ash swirled in the stale air, painting the world in hues of gray and despair. Noel stood still, the gun in his hand trembling ever so slightly. His breathing was labored, not from fear, but from the cold, suffocating weight of focus. Across from him, the beast Airghoul let out a guttural hiss, venomous steam rising from its hideous armored form.
Its massive body twitched. Tension vibrated in the space between them.
Noel didn't move.
He merely watched, his eyes calm, analytical—unreadable. There was no panic, no desperation in his stance. Only a quiet readiness that seemed more daunting than any scream of defiance.
The beast struck first.
It lunged, leaving behind a crater from the sheer force of its leap. Venom sprayed from its open maw, sizzling as it struck the stones below. The distance between them evaporated in a heartbeat.
But Noel was already gone.
He had moved the instant the creature's weight shifted.
A slide to the side, a roll beneath, the world turning into slowed frames around him. His body reacted not with trained motion, but with instinct—an instinct honed through a deeper kind of survival. He wasn't fighting to win. He was fighting to exist.
The dagger reappeared in his hand.
One clean cut. Another. Then a third.
Shallow wounds.
But each strike was deliberate, aimed at weak points—joints, gaps, exposed sinew beneath the armor. He never attacked from the same angle twice. He danced around the beast like a ghost, a shadow without weight.
Airghoul bellowed in rage.
It turned, spun, struck with its tail, claws, even its toxic breath. And each time, Noel was a step ahead. Cold sweat ran down his back, but his face remained unreadable. His heart pounded, but no trace of doubt passed his lips. He didn't need to overpower the beast. He just needed to last. To find the break.
The opportunity.
And then—it came.
The monster reared its head to scream, its chest swelling with corrupted mana. The mist that had clouded the battlefield thickened, pulsing with toxic intent.
Noel's eyes narrowed. For the first time, a flicker of decision sparked behind them.
He sprinted forward.
Straight toward death.
Airghoul released its breath.
A wave of venom and energy surged forth like a storm.
And yet, within that storm, a single figure emerged.
Smoke, wind, and light tore at his skin, but Noel didn't slow. His body was cracked, bleeding, and bruised, but there was no hesitation in his stride.
He ducked beneath a swinging claw, slid under the beast's legs, and with a single motion, jammed the dagger deep beneath its ribcage—right into the pulsating gland barely protected by the venom armor.
A shudder passed through Airghoul.
It froze, letting out a long, drawn-out groan. Its limbs spasmed. It stumbled back, crushing stones beneath its massive weight. Then, it collapsed.
Still.
Noel didn't celebrate.
He watched.
Waited.
Even as blood soaked into his tattered clothes, even as pain surged from his side where a fang had grazed him, he didn't let his guard down.
Minutes passed. No movement.
Finally, he stepped back, his knees trembling.
But his face... remained calm.
Only his eyes betrayed the storm within. Not fear. Not relief. Something deeper. A calculation. A memory. A haunting.
He turned his back on the corpse.
Walked slowly, one foot in front of the other.
Far above, beyond the layers of abyssal clouds, watchers on crystalline monitors stared in disbelief. Officers whispered to one another. No identification had yet been matched to the anomaly.
"Sir... it appears the entity is unregistered. No matching aura, skill-set, or mana signature."
"Then monitor him. And under no circumstances should anyone engage. Not until we understand what he is."
Down in the abyss, Noel paused briefly to look at the fading horizon.
There was no pride in his victory.
No smile. No relief.
He merely muttered, almost inaudibly:
"That wasn't even close to the real threat."
He walked on, disappearing into the shadows, leaving behind the corpse of a legend and the whispers of a new one.