Online In Another World

Just before the coalesced stone was tossed–

“Bang.”

Like a railgun parting the winds with a majestic glow, a condensed lightning bolt shot out from Sirius’ fingertips, piercing the air as it instantaneously connected with the gargantuan soldier of stone. The impact caused a shock wave to propel outward along with a static field that shocked anything in the vicinity, leaving behind a blinding flash for a brief moment.

As a result of the singular bolt, a downpour of pebbles rained down from above as steam was left in the wake of the spell.

“Ah, darn. Now stone dust is getting all over my coat,” Sirius complained, brushing off his sleek, black coat.

While the black-haired man of a princely complexion was busy tending to the state of his own outfit, wiping the dust off, something leapt at him from behind.

It was a human figure, wearing a skull as a mask and with scarred flesh, wielding a cleaver that exuded a dark malevolence.

The edge of the cleaver neared the back of the seemingly unsuspecting adventurer’s head, though in that split-second, the corner of Sirius’ lips was tugged into a smile.

Just before the skull-wearing figure could slam the cleaver down through the back of his head, Sirius vanished into the shape of electricity.

“–Mm?!” The malicious figure reacted in surprise.

Missing the surprise attack, the cleaver-wielding figure then had all of his air forced from his lungs as the lightning-wielding man reappeared, this time kicking his boot directly against the attacker’s abdomen.

“Close, but no cigar,” Sirius taunted.

The force of the kick was enough to blow the grotesque, burly figure back a good dozen meters, causing them to roll across the lifeless soil of Parmesus’ canyon.

Squirting at the figure who was laid out on the ground, not making a sound despite having their guts rearranged by the ruthless kick, Sirius recognized the abominable appearance of the cleaver-wielding attacker.

“A worn skull, a nasty cleaver, and B.O. from Hell,” Sirius remarked, “You’re “Butcher”, aren’t you? Congrats, you were put at the top of my “To-Do” list today. Your prize is death.”

Unresponsive verbally, Butcher hoisted himself up like an undead rising from a grave, standing up without using his arms as his torso swayed side-to-side.

The confrontation was placed in the depths of the canyon, walled off by cloud-reaching mountains like a pathway to the innards of the crumbled Valley of Parmesus itself. Sirius felt fortunate for this encounter, however.

Butcher was my highest priority here–the geezers in the Council made sure to drill that into my damn head, Sirius thought before smiling, Looks like I won’t have to work overtime today.

Just then, Butcher swiftly conjured a chain that manifested from black smoke, wrapping around the silent maniac’s arm before being whipped forward towards Sirius in a surprise attack.

“Oh?” Sirius held a surprised, but unphased expression.

Leaning his head to the side, the magenta-eyed adventurer evaded the quick strike of the chain from a distance, though in that split-second, Butcher was already dashing towards him.

Though he was as laid back as ever, unthreatened by forces perceived far below his own, even Sirius felt a certain sense of urgency when witnessing the abnormal cleaver wielded by the S-rank criminal possess a deathly glow.

At that moment, he recalled the single warning the Council gave him earlier that day–

–

[Hours Earlier…]

[The Guild Foundation | Council of The Founders]

It was a dimly lit room, veiled in secrecy and isolated from the rest of the world; multi-layered barriers persisted around the chamber itself, making it impossible to find the location of the gathering place for the Council that oversaw the Guild Foundation.

Invited into the top-secret location was the magenta-eyed wielder of lightning himself, who stood there with a bored look, impatiently tapping his boot against the ground as he stood before the shadow-layed round table of the Founders.

“We understand you’re a busy man, Stormheart, but this mission is highly sensitive,” a noble man with a long, platinum beard spoke, seated at the table.

“Yeah, yeah, I get it–I’ll handle it in a jiff,” Sirius brushed off any sense of significance to the mission.

This seemed to anger one of the Founders, who was a plump, elder figure with a bushy, silver beard, slamming his leather glove against the table, “Take this seriously, Stormheart! What do we pay you for, anyway–?!”

Though such an exclamation was quickly shut down by the Founder who spoke first, intercepting the angered member’s words with his own, calm response.

“Enough, Berswald. Sirius Stormheart is an honored member of the Guild Foundation; we will not fling insults back-and-forth,” the long-bearded Founder spoke.

“…Tch,” the angered Founder sat back.

A playful smile was present on Sirius’ lips, always amused at a chance to annoy his own bosses as he stood below the steps that led to the higher-elevation round table.

“You already know by now that everything in Parmesus needs to be wiped out. It’s an unfortunate loss, but there are other prison regions like it; it’s pivotal to instead enact damage control,” the long-bearded Founder continued, “…However, there is one thing even you must be wary of, Sirius Stormheart.”

“Oh?” Sirius smiled.

“It’s Butcher–one of the S-rank criminals who was held in Parmesus; he wields an irksome weapon: a cursed cleaver capable of cutting through anything. Worse, Butcher is a difficult one to put down–he is relentless like a wild beast; make sure to properly put that one down,” the foremost Founder warned.

Sirius gave a thumbs-up, already on his way out, “Sure thing, Gramps.”

“Gah–” The Founders gasped at the lack of respect.

–

Remembering the warning given to him, Sirius’ smile turned to a slight sense of excitement as he sidestepped the Butcher’s charge, watching the cursed cleaver swipe through the air.

“That’s a dangerous weapon you’ve got there. I wonder why those geezers never had it confiscated from you?” Sirius asked, humming as he repeatedly dodged wild swipes of the cleaver from the figure, “Oh well, not my problem–!”

It was a one-sided conversation, though cut short as a heavy swing from the dark-shrouded cleaver missed Sirius’ head as the man ducked down, countering with a lightning-infused straight punch to Butcher’s gut.

FWOOM

The level of reinforcement wielded by Sirius Stormheart made even a simple punch something of a death sentence; the aftershock rippled through the body of the skull-wearing menace, whose flesh bruised and innards were shredded by the force.

Yet, Butcher remained standing, alive and as aggressive as ever despite the lethal impact suffered. The burly figure with scarred, flesh and stringy hair grunted as blood leaked from the jaws of his skull mask, but otherwise seemed ready to continue without a problem.

Ah, I see, Sirius thought, this is why they couldn’t be bothered to kill him–this guy has some sort of ability to sustain himself. Let’s test the limits of it, why don’t we?!

[“If there was one, glaring flaw possessed by the one bearing the title of “Strongest Adventurer”, it was that Sirius Stormheart had a terrible habit of playing with his food. However, such hubris was made up for tenfold by his otherworldly capabilities.”]

In a flash of purple light, Sirius swept by once more before Butcher could even take a single step forward to reignite the battle, reappearing behind the murderous figure before a dozen sparks left powerful impacts on Butcher’s body.

Not even the slightest groan of pain left the lips of the cleaver-wielding criminal as his body was pelted by thundering sparks. Instead, Butcher spun around without any hesitation, contorting his entire body in a violent slash towards Sirius’ back.

–Again, the magenta lightning proved to be as elusive as a ghost in the night, vanishing from the edge of the vicious cleaver.

There was little room in the pathway lodged between mountains, leaving a trail of purple sparks flashing through the air as the lightning bolt that Sirius moved as bounced off of the colossal walls of stone and moss. With each reflection off of the neighboring stone, he gained further speed, becoming imperceivable to Butcher, who spun around without any way of keeping up with the inhuman swiftness of the man.

Each time Sirius passed by at speed that surpassed that of a lightning bolt touching down from the clouds to the world’s surface, he left eviscerations of electricity that rent the flesh of Butcher. As quickly as he was harmed, the fiendish figure began healing.

In the face of being woefully outmatched in speed, the S-rank maniac instead took a different approach that caught Sirius’ attention: a chain was manifested from smoke once more by Butcher, extending into a mystical length before being whipped around violently.

“Not a bad move!” Sirius called out.

It was a violent whirlwind of steel; Butcher relentlessly spun the lengthy chain around, smacking it in every direction, in hope of hitting the slippery lightning adventurer by sheer quantity of attacks.

The dried-out soil of the land was repeatedly carved up by the passing chain; it smacked into the mountainous walls, though still failed to connect with the wielder of magenta lightning.