The moment shimmered with tension, evening rays gold-washing the Mhaerun District's rustling streets. Yet within Nocth, a spark flickered—then blazed. A hunger. The kind that wasn't for food or warmth, but for battle, for that sense of movement so sharp and pure it left everything else behind. His stillness was deceptive; a flood of spirit roared within him.
Before Relin could even breathe a word, Nocth moved.
"Wha—?" Relin blinked, momentarily stunned.
The four cloaked men Velisar brought stood like stone towers, skin pale and bulging with muscle. Each bore an unnatural spiral glow beneath their skin—semi-transparent threads of spiritual energy weaving in and out of their bodies, crackling against the air. Their veins ascendance: sheer physical might. Muscular strength that could crater steel with a touch.
They launched forward, their boots ripping the ground as they hurled entire clods of soil and rock like cannonballs at Nocth. The assault was monstrous, a display of brute power and elemental rage.
Nocth, however, danced.
With grace that defied explanation, his feet whispered against the earth—every pivot an art form, every dodge an echo of divine rhythm. He moved like he was part of the wind itself, weaving through death with no more effort than stepping through rain.
The goons' roars turned into snarls of frustration.
"Why is the absorption slowing?!" one shouted, face contorting.
The spirals under their skin began to dim. The rate at which the surrounding spiritual energy surged into them—suddenly faltering.
Nocth's trait was awakening.
A subtle, aura-level disturbance radiated outward from him—unseen but relentless. It did not erase their power, but destabilized it, disrupted the harmony of their energy control. They were like trumpets trying to play underwater.
The strongest among them, a brute of 142 veins and bulging arms as thick as small trees, let out a war cry. His veins surged violently, sending a translucent shockwave through the air.
BOOM!
He punched.
The punch cracked the sound itself, thunder clapping in its wake.
Anni, trembling, pressed her tiny hands over her eyes and clung to Relin's leg. "He'll be crushed..."
But Nocth didn't move.
He raised one palm.
SLAM!
The muscular giant's earth-shattering blow met Nocth's hand like a feather on stone.
The man's eyes widened.
He pushed harder. His body trembled. Veins bulged. Sweat poured.
Nocth tilted his head slightly. Then twisted.
A sharp snap! echoed. The brute screamed as his arm bent in a grotesque direction.
With the same palm, Nocth unleashed a casual upward push. The giant flew.
He crashed into the ground, dust blossoming around his form before silence confirmed his unconsciousness.
The remaining three stared in horror. They turned to flee—but Velisar's glare froze them in place.
"Cowards," Velisar hissed.
Fear replaced reason.
The three charged, spiritual energy raging from their cores.
Nocth stepped forward.
One second.
Crack. Slam. Thud.
One was swept off his feet with a spinning kick to the chest. Another crumbled from a blow to the ribs. The last collapsed from a rising strike that left him drooling.
They lay there—twitching, broken, defeated.
"Wasted fools," Velisar sneered.
He stepped forward.
The cloak dropped.
Velisar stood tall, his body wrapped in an elegant Grade 8 armored vest. The plates shimmered like sapphire metal dust, veins of spirit iron braided through the fabric. It was clearly defensive, yet flexible.
His lips parted with that now-infamous maniacal laughter.
"Haaaaah!"
He licked his lips slowly.
"You're... interesting," he said, voice rasping like gravel over bone. "But I'll enjoy tearing your skin apart, limb by limb."
Nocth didn't flinch. His silence was heavier than threats.
The air between them buzzed.
And the chapter closed on that breathless moment—twilight descending on Mhaerun, the street lit in blood-orange hues, as two beings stood facing each other with annihilation blooming in the distance.