"That's enough now."
A handsome man in his early thirties descended from the sky, tall and broad-shouldered, the veins on his forehead bulging as he clenched his teeth. His voice was low, restrained… dangerously controlled.
Sensing the overwhelming pressure of the newcomer, the monster guardian instinctively leapt several meters back, its posture defensive and wary.
The man landed beside the unconscious Alex and knelt, lifting the young man's head with care. A faint glow pulsed from the ring on his finger, outlining the shape of a small vial. A crimson liquid materialized and flowed gently between Alex's lips.
As the liquid seeped down his throat, Alex twitched. A soft white radiance began to spread from his body, his wounds knitting together at a slow but visible pace.
The man rose. With a simple flick of his hand, the wind stirred—calm, precise—and shaped itself into a dome of solidified air around the injured youths.
Only then did he lift his eyes toward the abnormal monster. The creature met his gaze without fear, its defiant posture unshaken.
"How," the man asked coolly, "do you mean he threatens you in the future?"
Sir Anderson—principal of the greatest academy in Coeron City, a man celebrated for both unmatched strength and an infamous lack of patience—did not attack immediately. This monster, using human speech, was unprecedented in Coeron's history. Even he could not ignore such an anomaly.
The monster hesitated. Thinking. Struggling with language.
"He… reeks threat," it finally replied.
Anderson's mouth twitched. His patience was paper-thin.
"Do you monsters already exist in an alternate world beyond the evil core behind you? And why," he continued, voice tight but calm, "are you clearly two ranks stronger than the core itself?"
The monster froze, its expression twisted in frustration.
"World… evil core… strong… die."
In the next instant, its aura exploded outward. It lunged, appearing before Sir Anderson in a burst of wind, its armored gauntlet clawing toward him.
Anderson snorted, almost disappointed.
With effortless grace, he disrupted the monster's strike, seized its head with his right hand, and slammed it downward with such force that the ashen ground caved in, forming a crater.
The resulting dust cloud blew away instantly—scattered by Anderson's casual manipulation of the wind.
The monster staggered up, only to be yanked off its feet again. Anderson's fist crashed into its chest with a dull, thunderous impact, denting the armor and hurling the monster across the field. It flipped midair, digging its exposed claws into the ground to slow itself before standing upright once more.
Then it raised its right arm.
The rotten metal armor covering it writhed—alive—and peeled away, condensing into a long, decayed but sturdy broadsword.
Freed of its armor, the monster's true body was revealed. Pale-blue skin stretched tightly across its lean frame. A long, hollow patch ran from its neck down its torso, empty and unsettling. Its eyes—pure, burning red—flared brighter as it gripped the sword.
And then it moved.
Its speed nearly doubled.
Anderson's eyes narrowed, not in fear but curiosity. At some point, a long nodachi appeared in his hands. He shifted into a calm stance: both hands gripping the sword, right leg pulled back, blade poised at his chest.
_So it had still been suppressing its aura with that armor… Rank Five initial fallen-guardian. A young one at that. Just a single stage below me._
He launched forward.
Clang!
Sparks erupted as their blades collided. The monster staggered back eight steps. Anderson only four.
They paused for a heartbeat.
Then collided again—faster, fiercer, merciless. Metal rang, dust spiraled, sparks painted the air.
Minutes passed in whirlwind violence.
And then—Anderson grinned. The grin became a laugh, wild and genuine.
At some point, several academy elders arrived. They administered first aid to the exhausted Ellie and the unconscious Connor. Alex, now awake but weak, sat on the ashen soil staring with awe at the figure before him—his father, one of Coeron's absolute powerhouses.
The elders were no less awestruck. Enhanced sight made the dust no obstacle; they witnessed every blur of motion.
One elder raised a hand toward the evil core, intending to shatter it and end the summoning.
But Anderson's voice exploded from within the storm of swordlight:
"No one interferes! Do not destroy the evil core yet!"
He laughed again, reckless and thrilled.
"It's been a long time since I felt such excitement from a sword fight! This monster was born to wield the sword!"
But the monster was slowing. Wounds accumulated—deep gashes from Anderson's nodachi, dark blood spraying across the battlefield. It barely dodged a downward strike and leapt back, desperate for breath.
Anderson didn't allow it. He closed the distance instantly.
Finally, overwhelmed, the monster fell to both knees. Its head drooped, the rotten broadsword slipping to the ground. Dark, viscous blood dripped from its wounds, down its claws, staining the ashen soil beneath it black.
Sir Anderson paused with his nodachi in hand. He stared at the now pathetic monster, just a step away from turning into dark particles and dissipating. The wild laughter that had filled his lips moments ago had stopped, replaced by quiet observation.
A flicker of disappointment crossed his face. Not for the battle itself, but for the lack of answers he had gained. The creature had said so little, and Anderson hadn't even been pushed to use his evolved transformation or other complex abilities while in his sword-wielding state. He had hoped for more challenge, more truth.
He raised his nodachi once more and struck downward.
The monster's head rolled to the side, detached from its body.
After a few silent seconds, its headless form slowly turned into dark, floating particles before vanishing completely, followed by the rolled head. A faint echo of its existence lingered only in the air around him.
A faint ringing was heard.
The floating pale-blue evil orb shattered on its own with its guardian slain. A shiny, sky-blue, tiny orb was revealed in its place, now freed of any evil aura.
Sir Anderson looked up at the grey, clouded sky above, watching as the clouds parted, outlining the bright sun.
He exhaled slowly.
"Things are getting even more complicated," he muttered to himself. "If another strange event like this occurs, we might have to request help from the kingdom's capital. Just reporting this one like we did with the others should be enough… for now."
He glanced back at the youths.
Alex was wide-eyed, still absorbing the sheer power his father had displayed. Ellie sat quietly, exhausted but alive. Connor was being tended to by the elders, unconscious but safe.
Anderson's expression softened slightly. Despite the chaos, despite the unknowns, everyone here had survived another impossible day.
For a moment, the battlefield was silent, except for the faint whisper of wind swirling around the scattering dome he had created. The smoke and dust from the fight slowly settled. Even the ash underfoot seemed to remember the weight of what had just happened.
Sir Anderson lowered his nodachi, a thoughtful look on his face.
"This is only the beginning," he murmured. "We are not done. Not by far."