Chapter 64
When Shifter was first assigned this mission by Ferris, it seed simple—almost trivial. The guild was newly ford, and its leader was just an A-ranker. It shouldn’t have been much of a challenge.
So why had everything gone so horribly wrong?
It was because of him—the young man who simply refused to die.
"Why... why won’t you stay dead?!" Shifter snarled, teetering on the edge of madness.
Ronan stood before them, calm and composed. He crossed his twin blades in front of him, his presence cold and unwavering.
His body had evolved.
He had finally acquired the power and skills he’d lacked for so long.
"It’s ti for round two," he said, before surging forward like a storm.
Shifter reacted just in ti to block, but the sheer force of Ronan’s strike sent him crashing backward through debris and into the side of a crumbling building.
He’s far stronger... Shifter realized in horror as pain blossod across his body.
From the shadows, Fin activated his stealth skill, vanishing from sight. Silent and deadly, he moved in—but a sharp, piercing sound froze him in place. He gasped, looking down.
A blade had impaled him through the stomach.
"H-How...?" Fin croaked, staring at Ronan’s emotionless face.
"Things are different now," Ronan replied, raising his sword.
With a clean motion, he cleaved Fin in half. The lifeless body collapsed.
Ronan stared down at the corpse, expressionless. Too easy, he thought.
One of the skills he had obtained—Eye of Precision—allowed him to instantly identify the weakest points in any opponent. Every flaw, every vulnerable joint or nerve was laid bare before him. With it, killing had beco effortless.
Suddenly, three needles zipped through the air toward him—followed by an explosion.
He dodged smoothly.
He avoided it... Burner thought, sweat dripping from his brow as he watched Ronan’s piercing gaze turn to him.
"Don’t co any closer!" Burner yelled, panic rising in his throat.
But Ronan kept walking. Step by step, calm and chanical, his lifeless eyes fixed on Burner.
Desperate, Burner raised his only remaining arm and conjured an enormous needle, channeling everything he had left into this one final attack.
With a roar, he launched it at Ronan—
And in that sa instant, Ronan flickered.
The needle transford into Ronan, standing inches from Burner’s face, while the real needle appeared where Ronan was mont ago. His mouth opened to scream, to beg, to do anything—but no sound ca. Even in his half-transford state, fear had completely consud him.
Slice.
Ronan didn’t hesitate. He sliced off Burner’s remaining arm.
The man dropped to his knees, broken and soulless.
The second skill Ronan had gained—Switch—allowed him to instantly swap positions with any object or being, as long as they were within range. It was deadly, unpredictable, and perfectly suited for the battlefield.
"Your worst mistake was ever showing up here," Ronan said coldly.
Without another word, he swung his blade.
Burner’s head hit the ground seconds later.
Ronan didn’t flinch. He had beco sothing far beyond who he was just monts ago.
His gaze slowly turned toward the last figure—the blonde-haired man erging from the wreckage of a crumbling building.
Shifter looked around in disbelief.
First Fin... now Burner...
What the hell happened? he thought, dread taking root in his chest.
The man before him wasn’t the sa as the one they fought few minutes ago. This Ronan had changed. He was a monster now—silent, ruthless, and unstoppable.
And if Shifter had to fight him next, he knew one thing with certainty—
He wouldn’t survive more than a few seconds.
Shifter clenched his teeth, trembling. He knew what he had to do—and he knew the cost.
If he used this, there would be no going back. His sanity, his humanity—both would be lost. But one thing was certain: he wouldn’t die. Not yet.
With shaking hands, he pulled out a small vial. Inside, a swirling black liquid pulsed with streaks of sickly green. Without hesitation, he plunged the needle into his neck.
The transformation was completed.
His skin bulged grotesquely as his red armor tore apart and fell to the ground in shreds. His eyes darkened into pitch voids, and monstrous features erupted across his body. Muscles tore and reford. Two jagged wings sprouted from his lower back, twitching unnaturally.
With a guttural roar, he took flight, closing the distance to Ronan in a flash of blurred motion.
But Ronan didn’t flinch.
He watched with cold, unreadable eyes, unmoved even as the monstrosity rushed toward him. The mont Shifter struck with his clawed hand, Ronan shifted—sliding just out of reach. A flash of silver followed.
Slice.
Shifter scread in agony.
Monsters were supposed to feel less pain than humans... but Ronan was different. The Eye of Precision—one of his new abilities—revealed not just weak points but the exact locations where pain would be most excruciating.
Ronan had no intention of ending this quickly.
He was going to make Shifter suffer.
"I’ll enjoy tearing you apart, piece by piece," Ronan whispered. And then—he vanished.
He reappeared an instant later, having switched places with a nearby piece of rubble. Blades slashed in a blur—the Ten-Splitting Strike—each hit landing in precise, agonizing spots.
Shifter howled again, unable to lay even a finger on Ronan.
Desperation kicked in.
Fueled by survival instinct, he shot into the air, wings flapping furiously. He darted across the battlefield in erratic, panicked bursts—but it was all for nothing.
A large building ahead of him rumble and as a debris fall—and suddenly, it beca Ronan.
With both blades drawn, Ronan unleashed the Forty-Splitting Strike.
An explosion of agony ripped through Shifter’s mutated body. He hit the ground, limbs severed, blood and ash surrounding him. The monstrous form receded, leaving behind a mangled, broken man.
Shifter coughed weakly, eyes wide but lifeless.
There was no rcy in Ronan’s gaze.
"You can kill ..." Shifter rasped, a deranged grin spreading across his face. "But when they co... the Dark Emissaries will avenge . They’ll kill you all..."
He broke into mad laughter.
Ronan stepped closer, impassive. "Let them co. The sooner they arrive... the sooner they die."
Shifter’s laughter grew louder.
"Such arrogance... it’ll be your downfall—"
Fwip.
His head fell to the ground.
"You talk too much," Ronan said coldly, sheathing his twin blades.
He glanced around. Nearly forty percent of the city lay in ruins—collateral damage from the chaos. He winced, rubbing his head as if a migraine pounded behind his eyes.
They’re going to be furious when they return, he thought grimly.
---
anwhile, within the Red Portal...
Han stepped into a vast chamber, ancient and breathtaking in design. It felt regal—like a place built for kings.
"Hello?" Han called out, eyes scanning the stillness. No answer.
At the far end of the room stood a throne—crafted from black crystal, shimring with ethereal light.
"It’s... beautiful," Han murmured, reaching out. The system chid softly in his mind, confirming: Artifact Detected.
As he took a cautious step forward, a deep rumble echoed through the hall.
In a split second, Han teleported out of instinct—just before a massive body smashed through the spot he had been standing.
Landing a few feet back, he readied himself. His eyes widened as the creature revealed itself.
"A... dragon?" Han whispered.
It was majestic—its silver body striped with glowing black markings, a radiant horn pulsing with power atop its head. But what truly stunned him was its presence.
It didn’t radiate the overwhelming, oppressive aura Han expected. Instead... the dragon was smiling.
Silver lightning danced across its scales, crackling like whispers from another realm. It exuded grace—almost divinity.
Han was speechless.
The dragon chuckled, its voice booming and warm.
"Oh? Speechless, aren’t you? I suppose it’s rare for humans to see a Lightning Dragon—especially the only one of my kind."
It extended its wings, lightning flaring with energy.
"Welco to my sanctum, human. I am Thunderwrath, the Spirit of Lightning—and now, I grant you the honor of facing in battle."
To be continued...
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