According to a certain expert, the direction of combat from the very beginning quickly devolves from a clash of technique, to a clash of instinct.
Reaction ti. Arm strength. Hand to Eye coordination.
All these factors, combined with the intensity of the split second deciding factor were the true determinants of battle;
The point where technique faded into the background, becoming the foundation for all these things.
Cain realized, that in the storm of clashing steel, sothing was changing in him.
Sure, he was currently in grave danger.
The Steel Herald was a dangerous foe.
Even with its incredible magic power and Mana pool, its physical body was impractically tough.
Harder than enchanted steel, every part of its body was a weapon.
To make matters worse, even if he managed to damage the profane creature, it regenerated at a frightening speed.
Just like him.
'Like father like son, huh...'
'Definitely not! I'm way too young to a father!'
Cain ducked, twisting his body to the side just in ti to avoid the Herald's glimring blade-arm as it carved a glowing arc through the air beside him.
The blade-arm emitted a cutting light. He could almost feel the heat bleeding off it, like standing too close to a fla.
His boot slid slightly against the fractured stone beneath him. He grunted, planted his weight, and struck out with a low sweep of the {Lonely Dragon}, more to create space than actually do damage.
With his other hand, he ford a hand seal.
Magic circles were woven into reality in a split second and small orbs of fire shot out.
The blow glanced off the Herald's thigh with a shriek of tal, sparks leaping free and fading before they hit the ground while the orbs smashed into its body, exploding on impact to produce a cloud of flas.
Rolling to the ground, Cain watched as the flas faded away to reveal the body of the Steel Herald being repaired until it was as good as new.
Cain clicked his tongue,
'What the hell is this guy made of?'
He frowned. If this continued, they would be here forever.
Or not, seeing as he could sense Devils closing in on the periphery of the {Beholder's Eye} maximum range.
The Elental didn't respond. Not verbally, anyway...
It tilted its head again, that sa slow, unnerving, uncanny motion, like a beast trying to understand its prey…
Cain took a breath, then steadied his stance.
The gleam of crimson moonlight bounced off his blade, highlighting the stench of death he had brought to many beasts and Devils alike.
A tenebrous layer of energy wrapped around the weapon as he activated the {Demon Dragon} mode.
He sucked in a deep breath and his stance changed again.
The world seed to suddenly shift in his presence.
A cloud of darkness gathered above him to form a terrifying illusion of a black dragon with bolts of crimson lightning for eyes.
{Black Dragon of Crimson Sky}.
A sword technique that revolved around his usage of Demon Matter.
It has evolved from normal swordplay to a set of techniques that could only be utilized by himself.
A steamy breath of air seeped out through his slightly parted lips...
Sensing the change, the Steel Herald tried to back off, but Cain wasn't going to let that happen.
He had already steeled his mind to end the battle as quickly as possible.
Although he was a bit curious and hesitant in destroying this thing, there were more important things to attend to.
His body moved quick, cutting through the air faster than a falling star.
His blade smashed into the tal chest, sending the Steel Herald careening into a nearby wall.
The Steel Herald rebounded off the wall and shot into the air just in ti for Cain to arrive above it, smashing his blade into its shoulder.
An enormous crater appeared on the ground, filling it with cracks before shattering it to pieces.
A cloud of dust rose into the sky.
An aura as black as pitch and as terrible as the crimson moonlight burned around his body giving his silver armor a darker tint.
Swinging his blades, Cain glared down at the Elental with a dark gaze.
Then his eyes widened.
Reacting on reflex, he tilted his head to the side.
A wet sticky sensation rolled down the side of his face.
A deep cut was left behind on his face. Luckily, he reacted quickly enough, so his ear was still attached to him.
He was raised his sword, ready to strike down again, but a burst of stabbing golden light forced him to back away.
Rising up from the crater, pieces of rubble falling off its flawless kin, the Steel Herald has already begun the necessary repairs.
Cain narrowed his eyes.
He could sense a difference in this thing.
Or maybe it was just the red moonlight reflecting off its faceless head.
Either way, it seed even more eerie than usual.
His grip tightened.
"A sword..." The Steel Herald suddenly said.
Cain raised a brow in confusion.
A mont later, his confusion turned into utter amazent and horror as what had once been a faceless head suddenly morph into sothing else.
However, instead of an actual face forming, two runes inscribed out of nothing appeared on the creature's face.
Cain recognized one of them being the arcane character for 'Sword'.
However, the other was a bit more difficult to recognize.
In fact, he couldn't understand it at all.
The Steel Herald spoke again, this ti, its tone was colder and even more unfeeling,
"In the Evernight, I beco a blade. One without soul, for the soul is inefficient. Prone to recursion. I am clean. I am unburdened. I am Empty."
Cain felt its gaze shift onto him.
There was no malice, nor was there bloodlust or killing intent in its gaze.
It felt like the thing staring at him didn't have a drop of life in it.
Just cold indifference to the world.
And yet, it was. It possessed sentience.
It could think.
But it had no soul.
And that made it terrifying.
{Notice to Host: The {Golden Steel Herald} is emitting high levels of chaotic mana. The host is advised to retreat}.
Cain frowned.
This was a first.
He had never received this prompt from the system before.
He had also never heard the system sound so... panicked.
Cain took in a deep breath, then steadied his stance.
Clearly, he has no intention of running yet,
'I need details. Why should I run?'
{Replying to Host: The host is advised to retreat because his soul is in danger}.
Cain raised a brow,
'My soul?'
{Replying to Host: The {Golden Steel Herald} does not have a soul. In order to evolve, it seems out a suitable soul. However, no ordinary soul will do. It has to not only be compatible with the tal Elent, it also has to be compatible with the Herald as well. The Host fits both categories perfectly}.
Cain sighed.
Then he glared at the Steel Herald,
"Freaking liar. You ca after because you want my soul?"
The eerie thing tilted its head, as though it couldn't understand what he was saying,
"There is no contradiction. But it matters not."
It slowly lifted an arm. A deluge of tal elental mana surged between its fingertips, weaving together until a huge blade, eeriely similar in shape, form and structure to the {Lonely Dragon} Warblade appeared in its grasp.
"I have no soul. I have no na. I shall take your soul and your na. For evolution."
'This thing is oddly talkative for sothing without a soul.'
Cain clicked his tongue in annoyance.
The Herald surged forward, holding the sword parallel to itself body as each step cracked the ground, sending tremors through it.
A flurry of slashes. Precise. Relentless.
Cain t them all.
Steel clanged against steel, and the noise rang out like music.
A terrible, discordant music, but music nonetheless. He spun, ducked, and parried, feeling the weight of each strike travel through his arms and into his spine.
The power behind each strike was incredible.
But he wasn't overwheld. Not yet.
Truth be told, a part of him, so awful, reckless part, was enjoying this.
It had been a while since he fought sothing this pure.
The Steel Herald has indeed beco like a sword. Its movents were sharp and heavy, each one seeking his death.
To make things even worse, it mirrored his fighting style to his breathing pace.
Cain stared at its face, or lack thereof.
This creature, a soulless, fistful of tal and magic trying to murder him...
In a way, he could see the childishness beneath the horror.
Their weapons t once more, the sheer force of the impact sending a shockwave through the shattered terrain. Cain was pushed back a step—but only one.
He was adapting too.
The old instincts were returning. The quiet rhythm. The calm in the chaos. There was always a mont; sowhere between parry and strike where ti slowed.
Not from magic, but from his own focus.
Cain grimaced, twisting his wrist to redirect another incoming strike and pivoted into a counterattack. The blow clipped the Herald's shoulder, enough to send it stumbling a half-step.
He didn't press the advantage.
He just stood there.
Catching his breath.
Taking in a deep breath, he paused for a mont, then sharply exhaled.
"Enoch."
The Steel Herald paused, tilting its head.
Cain had a wide grin on his face as he pointed his index finger at the tal Elental,
"From now on, your na is Enoch!"
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