Chapter 297 — Forging the Ultimate Strike
The training yard was silent except for the clash of Kael's blade against the reinforced steel dummies. Sparks danced as his Magisteel sword carved through target after target, his movements fluid but sharp, refined yet brutal. His black flames licked along the blade's edge, shadows extending from his strikes like serpents, each one obeying his will with precision.
Selina watched from the edge of the yard, arms crossed, while Zerathis leaned casually against the wall, the daemon's crimson eyes glinting with predatory amusement.
"You're faster," Selina remarked, her tone measured. "Cleaner. Less wasted motion. You're finally learning discipline instead of leaning on raw strength."
Kael didn't respond, his blade flashing through another sequence—downward slash, pivot, backhand cut, thrust—each attack augmented with either flame or shadow. His chaos magic, wild and volatile, he left untouched. That was deliberate. He wanted his fundamentals sharpened to perfection before relying on the tempest inside him.
When at last he lowered the blade, smoke curling from its edge, Kael exhaled and turned to the two watching him.
"I can cut down armies like this," he admitted. "But against someone like Teren… or the Daemon Lord himself… I'll need more. Something decisive. Something final."
Zerathis stepped forward, his presence heavy, the faint smell of brimstone trailing with him. "You mean an ultimate attack." His voice was low, carrying the weight of centuries. "A single strike that obliterates doubt, defense, and destiny alike."
Selina arched a brow. "Ambitious. Dangerous. But not impossible." She tilted her head toward Kael. "The question is, are you prepared to push your body—and your magic—beyond its natural limit? Such a strike will burn you as much as your enemy if mishandled."
Kael met her gaze evenly. "I won't survive what's coming unless I risk everything. I need this."
Zerathis smirked. "Finally speaking like a true daemon."
The three of them moved into Selina's workshop, where candles illuminated chalk runes sprawling across the floor. Ancient tomes lay open, and crystals pulsed with faint mana.
Selina began sketching sigils in the air, her hands glowing with controlled mana threads. "If you want a finishing strike, it has to merge your swordsmanship with your black flames and shadows. Not chaos magic—it's too unstable. But your other elements? Combined, honed, and given a singular name of power… yes, it's possible."
Kael set his sword against the runes, watching the faint glow pulse as if hungry for energy. "So how do we fuse them?"
"That's where I come in," Zerathis said, stepping onto the rune circle. His body radiated raw daemon energy, crackling like a storm. "I'll push your power to the edge by feeding it resonance from my own mana. Think of it as a catalyst. But be warned—if you falter for even a heartbeat, it will consume you."
Selina added, "And I'll weave stabilizing threads of mana through your blade, so the fusion doesn't tear it apart—or you along with it."
Kael flexed his hand around the hilt of his sword. "Then let's do it."
The ritual began.
Zerathis unleashed waves of daemon energy that crashed against Kael like tidal storms. His veins burned as he channeled black flames down the length of his sword, shadows coiling and merging with the fire. Selina's threads of pure mana laced through the fusion, binding the wild forces together.
Kael roared as the power surged through him, the air vibrating with unnatural force. The runes on the floor flared to life, casting the room in harsh white light.
"NAME IT!" Selina shouted over the roar of energy. "Give it purpose! Command it!"
Kael's instincts screamed at him to release, but he held firm, forcing the union of flame and shadow into obedience. His blade burned black with fire, shrouded in writhing tendrils of darkness.
He raised the sword high, the name forming in his heart, his throat, his soul.
"Dragoniod's Breath."
The strike fell.
The room exploded with pressure, flames searing outward as shadows ripped across the floor like jagged claws. The reinforced wall at the end of the workshop shattered into rubble, smoke curling upward.
Kael collapsed to one knee, his blade humming like it was alive, black fire still licking along its edge. His lungs burned, his muscles screamed, but his spirit felt whole.
Selina's lips curved into the faintest smile. "It worked."
Zerathis gave a sharp laugh, sharp teeth flashing. "No—it conquered. That was no simple attack. That was a king's execution stroke. If you master it, not even the strongest of our kind will stand tall when it falls."
Kael stood, rolling his shoulders, exhaustion weighing on him but pride burning brighter. He looked at his blade, whispering again the name he had given it.
"Dragoniods Breath."
It wasn't just an attack. It was a promise.