Chapter 504: • When Luck Fails
Alister began to walk toward Aiku, the air around him shimring as golden mana bled out in a radiant aura, casting long shadows across the cracked pavent.
His eyes, calm and unreadable, briefly flicked to Anya as he spoke.
“Anya, what do you think about dinner after this? Haven’t eaten sothing nice in a while.”
Anya blinked, caught off guard by the casual tone amidst the tension. The sharp edges of the ruined buildings seed to fade away for a mont, replaced by sothing almost… normal.
A small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at her lips.
“Dinner sounds nice,” she murmured, eyes still fixed on him.
Anya glanced at Alister, a flicker of curiosity in her eyes.
“Do you have a place in mind for dinner?” she asked, the tension montarily giving way to sothing softer.
Alister’s lips curved into a subtle smile.
“Why don’t I let you decide?” he replied smoothly.
A hint of a genuine smile spread across her face.
“I have a place in mind,” she said quietly, almost to herself.
anwhile, Claus leaned close to Aiku, his voice low and urgent.
“This is your final chance, Aiku. Let’s pull out now.”
Aiku glanced at him sharply. “You forget I told you it was the Union president who brought in, and if my mory isn’t wrong—which I’m sure it isn’t—I rembered he possessed an EX-ranked talent.”
“Does that change the fact you are currently not only outranked but outnumbered? Are you so arrogant and short-sighted you won’t listen to reason?”
Aiku clenched his fists tightly, teeth gritting as frustration flickered across his face.
Then, with a heavy sigh, he turned away.
The golden wheel behind him dissolved into nothingness, and the radiant female figure vanished with it.
“Let’s be on our way, then,” he muttered.
Just then, a chilling voice sliced through the air.
“On your way? I don’t rember saying you could leave.”
Both n froze, their bodies tensing as a sudden, sharp yet intense wave of mana passed them.
They could sense sothing approaching.
A glowing golden fist ca hurtling through the air like a teor.
Aiku caught the movent from the corner of his eye, his instincts kicking in just in ti. He brought both hands up in a cross block—just before impact.
Claus had already stepped aside, having sensed the incoming strike a fraction of a second earlier thanks to his Moon All-Seeing Eye.
The impact was thunderous.
Aiku was launched backward like a cannonball, the sheer force of the blow shattering the ground beneath him.
Dust exploded into the air as his body crashed through multiple buildings, leaving a trail of destruction in his wake.
Alister lowered his fist, and the golden fist construct dissolved. Exhaling faintly, his breaths were visible in the night air.
“Honestly, what sort of fool turns their back on an opponent in the middle of a confrontation?” he muttered, shaking his head.
A portal shimred open beside him, swirling with golden light. From it stepped a dragon maid with black hair and deep red eyes. She bowed deeply, hands outstretched with reverence.
Alister slowly reached up and unfastened his White Cot–issue shoulder cape, handing it to her.
Then, with a smooth motion, he shrugged off his black suit jacket, revealing the crisp white shirt beneath, its buttons catching the golden glow of his aura. He flexed his muscles a bit, rolling his shoulder and neck, drawing a few pops.
“There we go.”
The feed from the hovering helicopters zood in, and the chatter from the comntators erupted; they could barely contain their shock.
“W-Wait, was that… was that so sort of flying golden fist? Since when could the Dragon Lord do that?!”
“Last we checked, he was a Summoner! That wasn’t a summon—that was… sothing else!”
“It didn’t look like he used so sort of summoning to call whatever that was either. From what I can tell, it seems like it was made of raw mana. Direct mana manipulation? What talent even does that?!”
“Forget the fist for a second—who’s the maid stepping out of that portal? Is that… a dragon maid?! When did he start summoning dragon maids?!”
“I don’t know, but she looks cute, so I like it. I feel like the Dragon Lord should summon an army of dragon maids to protect us instead of the Dragon Knights. Not to sound ungrateful, but it sounds far more appealing. But maid matters aside, that attack he did just now is new—I’ve never seen him do sothing like that, even during the last Wasteland Display event.”
“You said it. I think we’re witnessing sothing new here, people. Could all Summoners do this? Or is it sothing exclusive to him?”
The cara zood out, catching the still-settling dust cloud from Aiku’s crash, while Alister rolled his sleeves with calm precision—like he hadn’t just sent a max-security inmate through a city block.
From within the cratered ruins, movent stirred.
As the dust began to settle, Aiku slowly rose from the rubble, his limbs trembling with resistance. Chunks of concrete and twisted rebar clattered down his back as he staggered upright.
He coughed—once, twice—before blood flecked from his lips.
His eyes widened in disbelief as he stared at the crimson on his palm.
“I… was hit?” he muttered, voice hoarse. “Did I just get hit? How…?”
He stood frozen in shock, his usually sharp composure cracked for the first ti in a century. That attack—whatever it was—had connected. And not because he made a mistake. He hadn’t tripped. He hadn’t miscalculated.
It shouldn’t have hit him.
His Absolute Luck, a passive talent, had always twisted fate around him. Blades would miss by inches. Bullets would jam. Foes would stumble at the last second. Ti and ti again, he had dodged death without ever trying.
But now…?
That golden fist had struck him clean. Like fate itself had paused and let it happen.
That wasn’t normal…
Wiping the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand, Aiku’s eyes narrowed as he looked back across the battlefield at Alister—who stood utterly composed, the wind tugging at his white shirt, golden mana still dancing faintly around him.
“But besides that…” Aiku said aloud, a note of dread creeping into his voice. “That attack just now… wasn’t that a light construct?”
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