Chapter Three: A Glimmer in Desperation
The cold crossbow bolt remained locked on Elian, and the one-eyed man's finger slowly squeezed the trigger. The shadow of death pressed down more tangibly than any divine or demonic presence in the sky.
Elian's mind went blank, yet his survival instinct drove his body. He rolled and crawled backward desperately, seeking any cover—but the bottom of the pit held nothing but the dissipating divine corpse and scorching rubble.
"Ha, quick on the dodge," the one-eyed man sneered, not firing immediately, savoring the prey's struggle. He tilted his head, signaling to a tall, thin companion, "Go on, strip the valuable stuff off that big one. Be careful, don't damage the 'good stuff.'"
The tall man licked his lips greedily and leaped into the pit, his boots hissing against the hot earth. He ignored Elian entirely and headed straight for the divine corpse, eyes filled with lust for whatever treasure might lie beneath the shattered armor.
Opportunity!
Elian's heart raced. His gaze darted across the pit edge—the one-eyed man still aimed at him, while the stocky companion guarded the rim with a rusted cleaver, blocking his only exit.
No brute force—he had to gamble!
As the tall man bent down, reaching for the broken divine armor—
Elian inhaled sharply. Not an ordinary breath, but one following the strange instinctive pattern in his mind! The faint warmth lying dormant in his lower abdomen surged upward with his exertion!
He didn't gain superhuman strength, but the breath gave him speed and coordination far beyond his usual limits. He didn't charge the enemies; instead, like a startled rabbit, he lunged toward the opposite side of the divine corpse, using the still-massive body as a brief shield!
"Huh?" The one-eyed man had not expected such movement from the seemingly frail boy. His crossbow adjusted instinctively.
But Elian's target was neither of them! He threw himself to the ground, hands clawing at the scorching mud and debris—at that moment, in the corner of his eye, he glimpsed a strange metallic glint beneath the divine corpse!
"You little brat! You're dead!" the stocky man cursed, leaping into the pit with his cleaver to intercept Elian.
The tall man froze, startled by the sudden motion.
It was this instant of chaos!
Elian's fingers burned, but he finally touched the cold, hard object! He yanked it free from the soil—
It was a broken weapon fragment, about the length of a forearm, dark golden, jagged edges gleaming faintly with an unusual light, made of the same material as the divine corpse's armor. Surprisingly heavy, it felt solid in his hands.
"Damn it, grabbing stuff again!" The stocky man, having bypassed the corpse, saw the fragment in Elian's hand. Though unfamiliar, his greed compelled him to swing the cleaver!
The blade shot toward Elian's neck with deadly force!
Elian's soul leapt. The enhancement from his breath was fading fast; fatigue and pain surged back. He had no time to think, relying on the last remnants of instinct to lift the heavy fragment as a shield!
Clang—!!!
The shrill clash of metal rang out!
A tremendous force reverberated through the fragment, numbing Elian's arms, cracking his palms, and throwing him backward. The fragment flew from his hands, landing not far away with a dull thud.
Yet, contrary to expectation, the fragment remained unbroken.
The stocky man stepped back, shocked—the cleaver had left a noticeable chip in its edge, but the dark golden fragment was unscathed, not a mark on it.
"What the hell is this thing?" the stocky man muttered, both shocked and angry.
The one-eyed man squinted, realizing the fragment's extraordinary nature: "Grab the kid! Take the thing!"
The tall man abandoned the divine corpse, joining his companion in advancing on Elian with hostile intent.
Elian felt despair. The fragment was solid, but he couldn't wield it. The single defensive strike had already drained the strength and luck he had barely mustered.
Then, a sudden change!
The last flicker of the divine corpse's glow vanished. Its massive body became fully transparent, as if on the verge of disappearing entirely.
At the hollow in its chest, a faint yet pure golden spark drifted upward, like the last ember of a candle in the wind.
The moment it appeared, the three scavengers' attention snapped to it. Even Elian could feel that the tiny spark exuded an indescribable, ancient purity, far more alluring than the fragment he held!
"Divine core?! Fragment?! Grab that!" the one-eyed man yelled, greed twisting his voice. The crossbow adjusted its aim, hesitating—he didn't want to destroy it.
The tall and stocky men abandoned Elian, rushing crazily toward the dwindling spark.
Elian lay on the ground, gasping. The dazed relief of survival still lingered. He watched the three scavengers almost clash over the spark and glanced at the dark golden fragment beside him.
He had to leave. Now.
Gritting his teeth, he drew on the last reserves of strength, crawling toward the edge of the pit. Every movement seared his wounds, but he dared not stop.
Behind him came the furious shouts and scuffles of the scavengers, and the one-eyed man's angry barks.
Elian finally reached the rim of the crater, refusing to look back, staggering into the denser ruins and smoke, desperate to put distance between himself and the danger.
In his hand, he clutched the heavy, cold dark golden fragment that had saved his life. In his lower abdomen, the faint warmth stirred, slightly more vivid after the prior exertion and shock.
The distant roar of the divine war persisted, but the immediate threat had passed—for now.
Elian vanished into the shadows of broken walls, carrying a foreign fragment and an even stranger spark of power within him. His flight had just begun.