Time rewinds slightly—this is the battle of Shingin's senior comrades.
The air was thick with tension, and the smoke of the battlefield had yet to dissipate. The seniors darted through the ruins, their every movement precise and powerful, as if racing against time. Each step balanced on the knife's edge of life and death, measured to perfection.
Myoun seemed to vanish into the air, leaving only the faintest whisper of wind in his wake. He was a blur of speed, the embodiment of wind—swift and silent. His cloak billowed behind him, the black, form-fitting vest outlining his sculpted physique. Every leap, every motion was a testament to raw power. The air where he passed seemed compressed into a dark vortex, emanating a corrosive aura. It was as if a toxic mist clung to him, dissolving everything it touched, leaving no trace behind. The black miasma spread like the breath of death, consuming all in its path, leaving nothing but void.
"Moon Slash!" Myoun's voice rang out, cold and sharp. His dagger traced crescent-shaped arcs of sword energy in the air. Each crescent was dark and razor-sharp, slicing through the air with terrifying precision. The swarm of serpents that charged at him disintegrated instantly upon contact, reduced to ash without leaving the faintest trace.
Watcher 25 felt an unprecedented pressure as he faced the black mist. His eyes were locked on Myoun, realizing the threat he posed far exceeded imagination. He twisted his body like a serpent, leaping to evade the deadly sword energy. But Myoun moved with such speed that he was almost indistinguishable from a flash of light. In mere moments, he closed the gap, a phantom of death.
At that moment, Erukasu appeared above Watcher 25, his figure ghostlike. Shadows coiled in his hands, forming a massive, dark hand that crashed downward. The impact shook the earth, the air seemingly freezing in its presence.
"Shadow Press."
Erukasu's low murmur echoed like a cataclysm, a mountain-crushing force descending all at once.
Watcher 25 was desperate. His venom spurted in every direction, the drops piercing the air like deadly needles. But Erukasu's body remained unaffected, the venom passing through him as if through mere air. Meanwhile, Myoun's black mist consumed the venom entirely, leaving no trace.
"Impossible…" Watcher 25 was gripped by fear unlike any he had ever felt. The combined strength of these two was beyond comprehension. Desperation drove him to summon more serpents—giant eight-headed kings and eight-tailed overlords among them—launching a frenzied assault.
But Myoun disappeared again, his speed elusive as a phantom wind. The serpents coiled around him, trying to envelop him, but he slipped through like a ghost. His dagger released arcs of crescent-shaped sword energy with every flick, and each wave of energy reduced the serpents to ash.
The battlefield reeked of decay, the ground itself corroded by the pervasive black mist, turning pale and desolate. The air hung heavy with death, each movement by Myoun and Erukasu like a silent, lethal verdict.
Watcher 25 was cornered, unable to mount any further resistance against the overwhelming power. Shadows of death loomed, and he realized his chances of survival were gone.
Floating mid-air, Myoun gazed coldly at the two massive serpent kings. Their bodies writhed as if searching for an escape, their enormous forms exuding noxious gases. Myoun's lips curled into a faint, mocking smile, as if watching mere insects struggle.
"How laughable," he murmured. In an instant, he vanished and reappeared above the serpent kings. His eyes gleamed with lethal sharpness as he gathered power. The surrounding air seemed to be sucked dry, his stance radiating the strength of the heavens and earth combined.
"Dragon Fang!"
Myoun's hands slashed downward, unleashing a torrent of dark energy blades that roared like the fangs of twin dragons. The blades sliced through the air, tearing it apart with a shrill cry. The serpent kings' armored scales, seemingly impenetrable, crumbled like paper, their massive forms cleaved into fragments.
Their bodies dissolved mid-air, consumed by the spreading black mist. In mere seconds, the colossal serpents were reduced to ash, scattering into the wind like the mark of death.
The battlefield fell into a suffocating silence, the corrupted air heavy with a stench of death. Myoun looked down at the fading ashes, his lips curling into a cold smile. His gaze betrayed no pity, only the thrill of battle and an unyielding ruthlessness.
Nearby, Erukasu's ghostly figure emerged, his pale fingers tracing the air. A shadow extended from his hand like a tendril of death, silently closing in on Watcher 25.
"Shadow Drown," he intoned, his voice calm, almost indifferent to the carnage.
The shadow twisted into a giant hand, enveloping Watcher 25 completely. His struggles were futile; the shadow devoured him entirely, leaving no trace.
It all happened in moments—an instant annihilation. Watcher 25 had no chance to escape, vanishing into Erukasu's abyss, his existence erased.
In the aftermath of destruction, Myoun and Erukasu exchanged a silent glance, a wordless understanding passing between them.
Amid the deathly stillness of the battlefield, a faint figure emerged from the shadows. It trembled, like a frightened beast, slipping into a crevice in the rocks and vanishing into the darkness. The figure's movements were hurried and stealthy, as though escaping an invisible predator. Even in the silence, it seemed haunted by an unspeakable threat.