CHAPTER 50: THE CLASH OF SEA AND SHADOW
Finally, they were facing each other.
Only a few meters stood between them, but that distance seemed to separate two different universes. On one side, Po, his burgundy hair waving in the wind of battle, eyes holding the depths of oceans. On the other, Morde, his cloak spreading a faint darkness around him, his gaze sharp as ice.
It wasn't silence. It was tension. Between their breaths, the distant rumble of battle, and the scent of the last blood seeping into the soil, the pressure multiplied.
Po was the first to speak. The tone in his voice was more like a verdict declaring an ultimate reality than a threat. "Morde. Your road ends here too. No one who fought me ever survived. That will apply to you as well."
Morde's lips curled into his familiar, arrogant smile. "Po. I heard your story. Back when I was a rookie corsair... In those days, they used to say you were a legend." He paused, a mocking light playing in his eyes. "But it seems you're not that legendary after all."
Po's expression didn't change. "We'll see that at the end of the battle, Morde. But not here."
Before his words even finished, he struck Poseidon's Spear to the ground. Where its tip touched the earth, an invisible energy wave spread out like condensing water. The ground right beneath Morde suddenly softened, began to transform. Not a whirlpool, but a gateway was forming.
Morde looked down in surprise, but it was too late to react. The ground swallowed him. A second of void, pressure, then... hard soil. He found himself two kilometers away from Urug's noisy battlefield, in a desolate, flat terrain.
URUG BATTLEFIELD
The event was instantaneous. Po, after watching Morde's disappearance, was enveloped in a blue mist and vanished the next moment. The watching soldiers were left in astonishment.
The battle, despite the sudden disappearance of its leaders, continued with all its savagery. The Nexan Army desperately resisted the disciplined waves of the Ice Kingdom, the lines slowly retreating. Commander Amper, having donned his armor, was about to descend into the fray when King Swain's voice stopped him.
"Amper, stop!"
Amper turned, urgency in his eyes. "My King! We are losing right now! If we don't do something, we will lose this war!"
Swain's gaze was fixed beyond the chaos on the plain, into the distance. On his face was a deep, dangerous calm that Amper had never seen before. "King Task's chief commanders, Flower and Flem, still haven't directly intervened in the battle. You stay out of it too. Keep your army in order, morale high. It's not the time to intervene now."
At the same time, on the other side of the walls, King Task was also watching events unfold. His eyes met Swain's in the distance. Despite the distance and noise, this glance was as clear as a dialogue. A thought passed through Task's mind: What will you do now, King Swain? You've almost lost this battle. What's your plan?
A thin, calculating smile appeared on Swain's lips, one only he could understand.
DESOLATE PLAIN – THE FIGHT'S ARENA
Morde stood up in the dusty soil, looking around. There was nothing. Just the horizon and the sky. Then, with a light breeze, Po appeared beside him.
Morde's anger overcame his surprise. "Hey, what did you do? Where are we?"
Po, leaning on his spear, spoke calmly. "If we fought there, Morde, the city would be destroyed and countless innocent soldiers would die. War shouldn't be just that. So I brought you here, to my own arena."
"Did you think I care about that, damn it?" Morde snarled, his voice trembling with genuine anger for the first time. "This is a war! Those who fear death have no business here! And you... you fear death. You are not worthy to fight me."
This time, Po laughed. A harsh, sailor's laugh echoed across the plain. "I fear you? Ahahahaha! Come on, don't make me laugh, you piece of shit! How many like you have I crushed, you know?"
Morde regained his composure. His voice was low and threatening. "I'm sure you have, Po. But there's a small detail you overlooked."
Po's eyebrows rose. "What's that?"
"None of them," Morde emphasized, a black spark appearing in his palms, "possessed shadow power."
Po's astonishment was a sufficient opening for Morde's attack. "Black Sword - Black Cleaver!" Morde swung his hand in a crescent shape through the air. From it, a ground-level, light-devouring black energy crescent shot forth. Splitting, cracking, turning to dust the soil it passed, it advanced towards Po.
Po did not delay his move. He planted his spear forward. "Seven Ocean Defenses!"
From the tip of his spear, one after another, seven thick, semi-transparent blue water shields appeared. The black crescent struck the first shield. The sound of the collision was like a metallic scream. The first shield shattered. The second cracked. The third was pierced. Po was forced back a step by the force of the assault, his foot dragging through the soil to stop.
What is this? he thought. So strong!
But on the fourth shield, the black crescent finally dispersed, its energy extinguished in the blue water.
Morde gave a slight, mocking applause. "Bravo, Po. Stronger than I expected." The moment his words ended, he moved. With a sword of pure darkness suddenly appearing in his hand, he closed in on Po with ghostly speed.
The clash began. Spear and black sword met and parted in the air like pieces of a dance. Each contact scattered blue and black sparks. Po's form was perfect, each swing precise and powerful as if done thousands of times. But Morde's speed was supernatural. He caught a momentary opening—the millisecond gap after Po's swing—and slashed with his black sword.
The blade grazed Po's right forearm.
Pain shot to his brain instantly, but worse was the sensation of the wound. Po, retreating two or three steps, looked. The cut was no ordinary cut. From its edges, something like black, thin veins was spreading, rotting the flesh, sucking the life out of it.
"Ahh... This sword doesn't just cut," Po grunted, clutching his wound. "It rots what it cuts."
Morde smiled victoriously. "So you understand. That arm is now fifty percent useless. And it's the arm you hold your spear with. That's a big disadvantage for you."
And he attacked. "Black Fist!" This time, his fist came with a concentrated vortex of darkness.
Po switched his spear to his left hand. There was a pained expression on his face, but his eyes were still determined. "Mercy of the Oceans."
The tip of the spear glowed with a deep blue. When the fist met the spear's tip, the expected explosion didn't happen. The black energy, upon touching the blue glow at the spear's tip, hissed and extinguished like fire dropped into water. The attack was neutralized as if nothing had happened.
Morde's eyes widened in surprise. "WHAT? You neutralized my power? What kind of technique is that?"
Po answered with a strained smile. "What happened, Morde? You were overconfident. But I see you're worried now."
"I won't lie," Morde admitted, his voice turning serious again. "I never expected such a power. But it still doesn't change anything. I will be the winner of this battle."
Po gripped his spear tightly with his left hand. "Morde... I don't think there will be a winner in this battle."
"Why did you say that?"
Instead of answering, Po became the attacker this time. Using the spear with his left hand was awkward, but every move was the product of deadly experience. Morde, using his speed, dodged every blow, countering with his black sword. Po made a spinning move, swinging the spear's tip towards Morde's chest. Morde hesitated to parry it. But that wasn't Po's real aim.
In that moment of hesitation, Po pulled back his right arm—the half-rotted, heavy arm—as far as he could and brought it down with all his body weight onto Morde's chin.
BAM!
The sound echoed across the plain. It was such a powerful punch that it would have been enough to separate a normal man's head from his body. A dust cloud rose.
Po, panting, stepped back. When the dust cleared, he froze at the sight.
Morde was still standing. His head was tilted to the side, his neck at an abnormal angle, but his feet were planted firmly on the ground. Slowly, with the sound of bones snapping back into place, he straightened his head. The red glow in his eyes had intensified.
Just as Po was about to retreat, Morde's hand suddenly shot out. The black sword appearing in his palm plunged straight and fast into Po's stomach.
Po's eyes widened like saucers. From his mouth, first air, then dark red blood spilled out. Morde pulled out the sword and stepped back.
Po knelt where he stood. The blood flowing from his stomach dyed the soil red. The rot spread rapidly along the wound. Struggling to breathe, he looked at Morde. "H-how? You didn't fall?"
Morde, wiping the blood from the corner of his mouth, answered. "Did you forget, Po? I cut your arm. The power of that punch was halved. I feel sorry for you. If it had hit with full force..." He didn't finish his sentence, just shrugged. "I think that's enough. You're done."
Just then, Po laughed. A weak, bloody, but genuine laugh. "Hahahahaha! Hey, you brat! Do you really think I'd be defeated by such a weak attack?"
Morde instinctively stepped back. He was sure something was about to happen.
Po, struggling to stand, spat out another mouthful of blood. His body was on the verge of collapse from the sword wound and the rot. But in his eyes, an unextinguished fire burned. With the last air in his lungs, he roared:
"ULTIMATE TECHNIQUE: POSEIDON'S ULTIMATE FORM!"
Instantly, the transformation began. Po's body grew with the sound of cracking bones and expanding muscles. His height increased from two meters to three, then five... Finally, he reached a colossal form exceeding ten meters. His skin took on a scaly, blue-green appearance. His hair began to wave like living seaweed. His eyes turned into two glowing, pure blue ocean sources. His three-pronged spear grew with him, each tip burning with a bright blue energy. The rot on his body stopped instantly, the wounds, though not closing, ceased to progress.
For the first time in his life, Morde felt a fear that seeped into his bones. This was different from Vlad's. This was an ancient, crushing, awe of nature itself. But he did not retreat. He gritted his teeth and shouted in anger: "This... what is this feeling? Am I afraid? NO! IT MEANS NOTHING! I WILL WIN!"
He, too, gathered all his power. The darkness around him enveloped him, condensed. "ULTIMATE TECHNIQUE: BLACK SONATA!"
Behind Morde, four arrows of pure darkness, bending reality, devouring even the light around them, appeared. Each was like a death mark locked on a single target.
VIEW FROM URUG
In the distance, a fighting soldier shouted: "Hey! What's that? What's that giant thing?"
Another, in terror: "A GIANT? DO GIANTS EXIST IN THIS WORLD TOO?!"
But those on the walls—Kai, Swain, Amper—had already understood. Kai's fists were clenched. "Po... So he activated his Ultimate Technique. We're at the final point now."
King Swain, his eyes fixed on the plain, murmured: "Po... Even I was sometimes afraid of that ultimate technique. Morde has no chance now." Then, with a confident tone, he added: "That Po. The Ultimate Form of Poseidon mentioned in legends... Morde, what will you do now?"
ON THE PLAIN – THE FINAL CLASH
Morde fired the first two arrows simultaneously. The arrows advanced towards the giant Po in a straight line, making no sound in the air.
Po, even with his giant body, made an agile move. He aimed his spear, energy seeming to overflow from its tips. "Poseidon's Spear - Curse of the Oceans!"
From the three tips of the spear, intense blue energy waves shot forth one after another. The first black arrow and the first blue wave collided. It wasn't an explosion, but an annihilation. The energies erased each other, leaving only void and distorted air. The second arrow and the second wave did the same.
But the energy shock from the clash was so great that even the battle in Urug momentarily stopped. Everyone turned towards the blue-black energy column rising kilometers away.
Morde did not stop. He sent the third arrow.
Po knew this would come too. He made a sign with one hand (the other was still useless). "Rise, Kraken!"
From the base of his spear, a colossal, tentacled sea monster—a Kraken—made entirely of water rose. It shielded itself in front of Po. The black arrow pierced the Kraken's center. The watery giant entity trembled for a moment, then silently dispersed into water vapor. But it had stopped the arrow.
Both warriors were now at their limits. Morde's breathing was raspy. "Zehehehe... There's only one way to defeat him... To open a Domain."
Po was equally exhausted. The wound in his stomach had started bleeding again. I've reached my limit. Almost... And he still has one last arrow. The moment I stop it, my Ultimate Form will collapse. What should I do?
Morde sent the fourth and final arrow. But the arrow split in two in the air.
Po was caught off guard. Two arrows were coming from two different directions. He did not step back. "What? It split? THIS... THIS CHANGES NOTHING!"
He deflected one arrow with his spear. He tried to block the other with his rotten, heavy right arm.
BAM!
This explosion was smaller but sharper. Dust and energy residue spread across the plain.
In Urug, everyone held their breath, waiting for the energy cloud in the distance to disperse. Kai, Swain, Task... All were staring.
The dust cleared.
Po's colossal Poseidon Form had collapsed. On the ground, returned to human size, he lay wounded. The tip of his three-pronged spear—that legendary three-headed part—had been completely destroyed by the last arrow's power, leaving only a simple spear shaft.
Morde, staggering slightly, walked over and leaned over Po. Po's right arm was completely blackened, rotten. The wound in his stomach had deepened, the rot had started again. And his spear... was no longer a spear.
"Po," Morde whispered, the fatigue of victory in his voice. "It's over now. Your spear is broken too. That legendary three-pronged spear... I destroyed it. You can't use it anymore. Give up."
Po, lying on the ground, gave a faint smirk. Then, with incredible willpower, trembling, he stood up. His two-meter frame tried to stand straight. His burgundy hair was covered in dust, his face pale, but there was still a spark in his eyes.
"Hey, Morde..." he began, his voice hoarse. "Shall I tell you why I tried to stop the last attack without using power?"
"I'm not curious about that," Morde cut him off, slowly forming a new black sword in his hand. "This battle is over anyway."
"No, Morde," Po insisted, fixing his eyes on Morde. "You should know this. Pride... makes a person do anything. And it also keeps them standing. That's what's keeping me standing right now." He took a deep breath, putting all his remaining strength into his voice as he shouted his last words: "I CANNOT SWALLOW THE PRIDE OF BEING DEFEATED BY YOUUU! DOMAIN ACTIVATE: OCEAN REALM!"
He struck the spear shaft to the ground one last time.
From nothingness, a dome rose. A two-kilometer area began to be enveloped by a semi-transparent, wavy blue dome. The moment the dome closed, the world changed.
Inside, everything was ocean. Infinite, deep blue waters. Po stood on the water as if it were the ground. Morde was suspended in the air at the center of the domain. Around them, ghostly forms of ancient sea creatures swam, and in the distance, the shadows of massive tsunamis could be seen.
And Po rose within the domain. "RISE! LOST CITY: ATLANTIS!"
In the depths of the ocean, a colossal whirlpool formed. From its center, with its marble columns, sunken temples, and golden towers, the legendary lost city of Atlantis began to rise. When the city fully emerged, a wave of energy spread from it and reached Po. Po's wounds did not heal, but his exhausted body was filled with renewed strength for one final move.
"Final Spear Dance!" Po shouted, with the simple spear shaft in his hand.
Now it was not magic, but pure technique and will. He began a rhythmic, deadly, dance-like series of attacks. Each move accelerated from within the water, coming at Morde from a different angle. Morde tried to defend using his black energy as a shield, but the attacks were so intense and fast that he couldn't keep up. His body was thrown down, up, right, left, his black energy dispersing with each blow.
Po made one last spin and performed a horizontal, sharp swinging move. The spear shaft pierced through Morde's black energy shield and struck him right in the chest.
KRAAK!
The black energy shattered like glass. At the same moment, the Ocean Realm also began to tremble and disperse.
Morde, with a dark liquid gushing from his chest, crashed onto the water's surface. Po, with nothing left to support him but his pride, still stood. Panting, he murmured, "It's over... I won..."
He turned his back and started to walk away, staggering. But he had no strength to walk. Every step was torture.
Just then, a sound came from where Morde had fallen. Movement.
Morde slowly stood up. He shook off the water and dust from himself. Po turned in surprise and exhaustion, able to mutter only one word: "How?"
Morde spoke in a serious, even respectful tone. "You remember the last attack you made on me, right? At that very moment... Ailian appeared. And he shielded that attack. But the attack was so powerful that I was still affected. No doubt, I would have died if not for Ailian." He paused, looking into Po's eyes. "Anyway. As a result... this battle is now definitely over."
Hearing these words, Po struggled to stand up again. His body was about to collapse. "Morde... maybe you're right. You won the battle. But remember what I said, right? There will be no winner at the end of this battle."
He raised his left arm—the half-rotted but still functional arm—into the air. The spear shaft on the ground flew to his hand as if magnetically attracted. His right arm was completely dead. His body was rotting. But his spirit was upright.
"I never showed this attack to anyone before, Morde. Consider yourself lucky to see it."
He gathered all his remaining power, all his pride, all his being at the tip of the spear shaft. The shaft began to glow. A shaft without three heads, a simple shaft... but it carried the rage of an ocean within.
"FINAL ATTACK: POSEIDOOON!"
From the shaft, a horizontal, pure blue energy beam shot forth. All the rage, all the depth of the sea was concentrated in a single point.
Morde's eyes widened. "How can he do this? His power is gone! But how? Unless... because of his pride?" There was no time. He shouted in panic: "Domain Activate: Shadow Realm!"
Darkness expanded around him, trying to form his own domain. But while it was still in the formation stage, Po's final attack reached it.
The blue energy beam struck the unformed shadow domain. The domain, not yet fully shaped, burst and scattered like a balloon. Morde had wasted the energy he spent for this final move too. He fell to his knees.
"Zehehehe..." He was struggling even to breathe. "The last energy I spent to open a domain... wasted. N-now... what will happen? Am I... going to die?"
They both raised their heads and looked at each other. Only a few meters separated them. Both were on the brink of oblivion.
On Po's face, there was not victory, but a deep, peaceful happiness of not being defeated. He said one last thing, his voice now almost a whisper:
"Morde... Ahh... I told you. There will be no winner in this battle. And I think... I was right..."
When his words ended, Po, with his eyes open but no longer breathing, collapsed where he stood. Poseidon's last warrior fell to the ground along with his pride.
A second later, Morde also collapsed in the same way. His eyes closed.
The battle to the death had ended.
There was no result.