Chapter 107: The Battle’s End!

Ravelhorn’s scythe swept toward Damian’s waist with enough force to bisect him and probably several trees behind him for good measure!

Damian’s <Perfect Combat Instinct> screamed that Longtian was on the wrong side of his body, his remaining Mental Energy was too precious to casually burn another <Misty Step>, and the crescent blade was already too close for ordinary footwork to save him.

So Damian did something Ravelhorn absolutely did not expect!

He let go of his sword.

Longtian slipped from Damian’s right hand and Ravelhorn’s grin widened instantly.

"Hah! Has the specter of death finally frightened the weapon out of your hand, Human?" The Satyr mocked as his scythe continued forward, delight entering his eyes at what appeared to be Damian’s first genuine blunder.

Damian didn’t answer as the Longtian Sword fell perhaps half a foot, then stopped.

Ravelhorn’s expression changed greatly!

Refined Qi surged through the invisible threads Damian had already attached to the weapon through <Object Control>, and Longtian went from slowly dropping toward the earth to accelerating upward with almost no warning whatsoever.

SCHLIIICK!

The sword tore diagonally across Ravelhorn before his scythe could complete its swing, cutting from the right side of his stomach all the way toward his left shoulder!

Purple blood exploded across the glade, Ravelhorn’s eyes bulging as the scythe passed harmlessly before Damian, his entire attack collapsing when agony ripped through his torso.

Mirelle stared from within the golden protection of <Glyph of Warding>.

"...What?"

The Longtian Sword was... floating?

And not merely hovering like some enchanted Mage weapon either, the sword hung beside Damian with its point aimed toward Ravelhorn, the dark metallic-blue blade humming while streams of Refined Qi moved through its Dragon Pearl Conduit.

Ravelhorn vanished through purple mist.

<Misty Step>!

He reappeared dozens of meters away and immediately dropped onto one knee, one hand pressing against the enormous diagonal wound as purple blood poured between his fingers.

For the first time since revealing his true personality, there was no humor anywhere upon his face.

"What the hell did you just do?!" Ravelhorn demanded, his voice finally containing more anger than amusement.

Damian rolled his aching shoulder and extended two fingers toward Longtian, the sword rotating lazily beside him.

"Nothing complicated. I just figured it was time to stop fighting at forty percent." Damian replied with a smirk.

Ravelhorn’s gaze hardened whereas Damian’s smile widened.

"Let’s call this... eighty percent."

Mirelle’s jaw dropped.

Eighty?!

This lunatic had been matching a Master-tier Great Fey while supposedly leaving another three fifths of his combat power unused?!

Ravelhorn did not respond immediately because he was considerably more occupied with something else.

Healing!

Purple Fey Essence flooded beneath his palm as the flesh along his torso attempted to close, yet the magical recovery immediately slowed.

Something foreign remained inside the wound.

It was neither a poison nor a curse, but some form of... energy?

A dense, refined and unusually stable energy that resisted his Fey Essence as though the injury itself had been salted with hostile power.

Ravelhorn’s pupils contracted.

That’s right, the sword!

It must be the sword!

Indeed, Damian had not merely cut the Satyr.

Longtian was already being controlled through Refined Qi, and when the blade entered his body, a portion of that same energy had been deliberately pushed into the wound.

Ravelhorn snarled and increased the flow of Fey Essence, purple light erupting from the injury.

The foreign energy was eventually overwhelmed and forced out, allowing flesh to knit together, but the cost made Ravelhorn’s expression darker.

Too much.

Far too much!

He had already spent substantial power maintaining illusions, teleporting, casting magic and fighting Damian at full intensity.

Brute-forcing a wound like that closed had just eaten another huge chunk from reserves that were very much not infinite.

His eyes moved toward the floating sword, then toward Damian.

The Human stood relatively calmly despite the blood at the corner of his mouth and the damage he’d taken earlier.

Things had changed, and Ravelhorn understood this immediately.

If he didn’t kill Damian quickly...

There was now a very real possibility that he would die here.

The Satyr rose, his scythe turning within his hands.

Now, there was no longer any laughter nor any taunts.

Only pure killing intent.

Damian noticed and smiled faintly.

"Ah. Now you’re taking me seriously, huh?" He muttered.

Ravelhorn immediately attacked, purple light erupting beneath his hooves as <Misty Step> carried him sideways rather than backward, three illusionary copies splitting away from his body at the exact moment he emerged.

One duplicate immediately began weaving an offensive spell while another rushed Damian with a conjured blade, and the real Ravelhorn swung his scythe from Damian’s blind side.

It was an excellent layered attack, but Longtian ruined it.

The sword vanished, simply accelerating so violently that Mirelle heard the sound after it had already crossed the space.

CRACK!

The first illusion burst into purple petals, then Longtian changed direction.

It did not make a wide turn, circular flight path, or even attempt to bleed momentum before reversing.

The sword stopped, rotated upon its own center and launched ninety degrees toward the second copy like somebody had picked up physics and thrown it into the garbage.

PUFF!

Second illusion gone!

Ravelhorn’s scythe was already descending upon Damian when Longtian changed direction again.

CLAAAAANG!

The Flying Sword intercepted the crescent blade from the side and Ravelhorn staggered.

Damian stepped in and punched him directly in the chest.

BOOM!

The Satyr flew backward and twisted in midair, using <Misty Step> before hitting the ground and reappearing near the edge of the clearing while simultaneously firing a wave of magical force toward Damian.

Longtian moved first, accelerating straight through the spell and charging towards its target!

Ravelhorn dodged narrowly, the sword missing his head by centimeters and continuing past him.

His eyes flashed.

Got it!

A normal projectile would now need distance to curve around and a thrown weapon would need to be recalled.

Even an expertly controlled magical weapon should need space to arrest its momentum!

Right?

Wrong!

Ravelhorn’s face changed as Longtian simply stopped in place despite its crazy speed, then spun around on the spot and shot backward!

SCHLIIICK!

The blade tore through Ravelhorn’s left side before he could complete another <Misty Step>, and purple blood erupted again.

"GHAA!"

The Satyr staggered, clutching his ribs as Damian calmly walked toward him.

That was the difference between a Flying Sword and a normal remote-controlled weapon.

It didn’t fly in the ordinary sense.

<Object Control> used Refined Qi threads and spiritual intent to directly manipulate force and direction, while Longtian’s Flying Sword property made the weapon extraordinarily responsive to those commands.

Whether it was forward, stop, turn, reverse, accelerate, it could do them all instantly and perfectly.

After all, there was no rider to crush under sudden momentum, no muscle to tear from impossible directional changes, nor any reason to respect the polite suggestions made by inertia.

At full acceleration, Longtian crossed the glade at something approaching the speed of a bullet, except bullets generally possessed the decency to continue traveling in the direction they had been fired.

This one could change its mind halfway!

Ravelhorn forced the second wound closed, wasting even more Fey Essence clearing Damian’s Refined Qi before the injury could properly knit.

His breathing had finally become heavier, but he wasn’t finished!

Not yet!

The Great Fey slammed the butt of his scythe into the ground as purple magic exploded outward.

Trees, broken stone and even chunks of earth rose into the air as distorted Fey power twisted the glade around Damian, while half a dozen Ravelhorns formed among the debris and began teleporting between locations.

This time, he didn’t try to beat the sword but tried to overwhelm its controller.

Spells came from multiple directions, a storm of blades from the left and a sonic burst from above.

Twisted roots erupted beneath Damian while two copies closed in physically while the real Ravelhorn disappeared entirely from ordinary sight.

Damian’s <Divine Sense> scanned the battlefield.

There!

Longtian became a streak.

PUFF!

One illusion died.

PUFF!

Then another.

The third managed to parry once before the sword reversed instantly and entered through its back.

PUFF!

Damian stepped around the roots, took one magical blast across his weakening <Mage Armor>, and ignored the flare of pain in his shoulder.

The real Ravelhorn appeared behind him with his scythe raised while Longtian was on the other side of the battlefield.

Ravelhorn fully committed this time, thinking it was the end!

However, Damian only smiled as the sword disappeared from everyone’s perception with a minor sonic boom.

SCHLIIICK!

Ravelhorn’s eyes widened as Longtian crossed the entire glade and slashed deeply through his back.

The Satyr screamed, his scythe dropping from numb fingers.

Purple blood poured down his body as he stumbled forward, attempted to turn and nearly collapsed.

This time, healing barely began when it was halted, as his reserves were too depleted.

The Refined Qi inside the wound remained stubbornly embedded, forcing what little Fey Essence he still had to fight the foreign power before it could even begin repairing the flesh.

Ravelhorn dropped to one knee, then both, his scythe lying several meters away.

The battle... was over.

Damian approached slowly while Longtian floated beside him, blood running from the sword’s edge before being shaken away with a sharp metallic hum.

Ravelhorn lifted his head, and fear was finally there.

The clean, sober realization that death had arrived and was walking toward him wearing black-and-gold clothes.

Damian stopped a few steps away.

"Any last words?" He asked.

Ravelhorn gave a bitter laugh that immediately turned into a cough.

"So this is how the performance ends. I suppose the loser doesn’t get to complain about the final act." The Satyr muttered, purple blood running down his chin.

Damian didn’t care about the dramatic words, rolling his eyes in disdain.

He raised one hand, made the Longtian Sword align itself, then shot it forward!

Suddenly, just as it was about to end the Satyr, a white blur entered its path.

SCHLICK!

Damian had sensed Mirelle move through <Divine Sense> before she even left Alfaro’s side, but he allowed her.

He hadn’t intended to allow the fox to simply wander away afterward anyway, and if she wanted to create some melodramatic farewell scene before dying...

Well, it was her choice.

Longtian pierced straight through Mirelle!

The white fox hit the ground between Damian and Ravelhorn, three tails collapsing behind her as blood immediately soaked through the pale fur around her chest.

Ravelhorn froze. "Mirelle...?"

His voice sounded wrong, confused and terrified.

Mirelle coughed weakly and blood escaped her mouth.

Ravelhorn stared at her in disbelief.

"Why?" He whispered.

"I lied to you. I used you! I betrayed every stupid thing you believed about me! You should... you should hate me!" The Satyr stated with utter incomprehension.

Mirelle’s eyes trembled.

"I... am hurt... by what you did... very hurt." She admitted softly between bloody coughs.

Ravelhorn’s expression became complicated.

"But... it doesn’t matter." Mirelle continued as her breathing weakened.

"You found me in that hovel and saved me. You looked after me all these years..."

Her lips slowly curved.

"So whatever you became... whatever you did..."

Another cough.

"...you’re still my family."

Ravelhorn stopped breathing.

"My... big brother."

The light disappeared from Mirelle’s eyes.

Her body began breaking apart almost immediately, white fur dissolving into motes of pale Fey light that rose gently around Ravelhorn before scattering into the night.

Within seconds...

Mirelle was gone.

Ravelhorn stared at the empty patch of bloodstained earth, and something inside him broke!

The Great Fey’s expression warped as grief came first, then fury.

Then something so violent that Damian immediately moved.

Ravelhorn screamed.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!"

Fey Essence erupted from his body, and the glade imploded.

BOOOM!

The earth cratered downward as though a tiny black hole had appeared at its center, trees being ripped from their roots while shattered boulders, soil and branches were dragged toward Ravelhorn before exploding outward again.

Purple-black light consumed his body, his horns lengthened and swept backward while black fur spread across a taller, more monstrous frame.

Armor-like dark plating formed naturally across his torso and limbs, broken by glowing crimson-purple lines beneath the surface.

Huge ragged wings tore outward from his back, his hands lengthened into vicious claws, while curved scythe-like extensions formed along his arms and shoulders until his original Satyr silhouette had transformed into something darker, leaner and considerably more lethal.

Then his eyes opened, and red-violet light flooded the crater.

Legend!

Ravelhorn had crossed the final boundary!

The Great Fey had become an Archfey!

And only now, after reaching the power he’d spent decades chasing, did Ravelhorn finally understand what it had cost him.

Mirelle and Alfaro, his followers.

Everything that had genuinely belonged to him before ambition turned them into pieces upon a board.

Ravelhorn’s transformed face twisted.

He wanted Damian dead!

He wanted the Human ripped apart slowly enough that Mirelle’s spirit might somehow see it!

His senses exploded across the ruined forest, but nothing came back.

Damian was... gone!

Ravelhorn’s expression darkened.

"Ran away?"

No, Ravelhorn traced the disturbed Fey pathways around the glade.

<Misty Step> had been used recently, very recently.

But there was no corresponding disturbance to the north, south, east, or west.

Ravelhorn frowned, then his eyes slowly widened as the Archfey looked up.

Above...?

And for the first time in his long existence...

Ravelhorn felt genuine horror!

High above the forest, Damian stood upon the flat of the Longtian Sword.

Alfaro’s enormous unconscious body was tucked casually beneath Damian’s left arm, held against his side with ridiculous strength while the Flying Sword carried both of them far into the sky.

Damian looked down, and his expression was completely callous.

His right arm pointed toward the earth, and above one extended finger floated a sphere of fire the size of a small house.

Ravelhorn’s eyes widened.

"...Oh."

Damian had sensed the transformation, so he knew exactly how strong the creature below had become.

Exponentially stronger than Ao Longtian, and far stronger than the Master-tier Satyr he had just defeated.

So Damian had absolutely no intention of going back down there to exchange inspirational melee attacks with a newly awakened Legend.

Fuck that!

He had already seen enough anime to know how that usually ended.

Ravelhorn’s <Misty Step> could only move him around twenty meters at a time while Damian’s Grandmaster Signature version could reach 280 meters. 𝘧𝓇ℯℴ𝓂

And even Damian knew that trying to teleport horizontally out of the blast radius of what he was currently preparing would be stupid.

So he went up, way up.

Then he used his final Level 5 Mage Spell Slot to upcast the Grandmaster Signature spell... <Fireball>!

The same spell that already produced 2,500% Fire Damage and devastated a 150-meter area under ordinary casting as level 3 was now being forced through a Level 5 Slot.

Ravelhorn understood, his shoulders slowly dropping.

There was nowhere to run.

He looked once toward the place where Mirelle had disappeared, then toward the distant direction of the Deep Moon crossing.

"I’m sorry, Mirelle." Ravelhorn whispered.

His wings spread as purple-black Fey Essence gathered around him in layers.

"And... I’m sorry, Old Bastards."

Damian’s finger lowered. "Arde!"

The fireball fell!

Ravelhorn roared and released everything he had left!

KRAKOOOOM!!!

The forest became white.

If the explosion that killed Ao Longtian had been akin to the Little Boy dropped on Hiroshima, then this was the Fat Man dropped on Nagasaki.

A miniature sun erupted beneath Damian!

The blast swallowed the glade, the surrounding forest and every remaining landmark beneath an expanding dome of incandescent fire, while the shockwave tore outward with enough force to flatten trees far beyond the immediate detonation zone.

Damian’s eyes widened.

"OH SHIT!"

Even from hundreds of meters above the ground, the heat hit him!

Longtian immediately shot higher, but the blast followed them upward!

Damian climbed faster and faster while holding Alfaro tightly beneath one arm, the Flying Sword screaming upward as the expanding thermal wave chased them into the night sky.

His <Mage Armor> flared from the heat, then flared harder.

Damian continued rising higher.

Still higher!

By the time the firestorm finally stopped threatening to roast him alive or rip him from Longtian through sheer force, the forest below had disappeared beneath an enormous glowing cloud.

Damian looked around, cold air tearing across his face, clouds drifting frighteningly close above him.

"...Goddamn."