章 306: Martial King II
The Martial King's Nyxthar, sheathed in radiant astral energy and bolstered by the precision of Sword Unity, met Caladros's Spear Unity with a cataclysmic clash. The impact rippled outward, dismantling the surrounding hills into little more than crumbling rubble. Each strike bore the weight of mountains, each parry a testament to their skill and sheer force.
Magnus found himself retreating, step by calculated step, under the relentless assault. His movements were precise, measured, but even precision had its limits when faced with such overwhelming power. Caladros pressed him hard, each spear thrust a storm in itself, and Magnus—though holding his ground—was forced to give more of it than he could afford.
The toll of the battle was etched into the Martial King's body, his breaths heavier now, his once-fluid strikes growing just a fraction slower.
Radiant-rank did not mean boundless regeneration, nor infinite stamina.
Magnus was a juggernaut of strength, an unyielding force, but he was still mortal, and his limits loomed closer with every passing moment. His flesh mended itself, his vitality surged, but the strain was undeniable. Each clash drained him a little more, each evasive step sapped his reserves.
Caladros, on the other hand, moved with a terrifying steadiness. The Vampire Monarch's spear danced with lethal grace, his strikes precise and unrelenting, his presence a suffocating weight. Where Magnus was nearing the edge, Caladros seemed like a tidal wave with no sign of ebbing.
Magnus's mind churned, grappling with the stark truth he couldn't ignore: he couldn't see a path to victory.
Caladros was simply a step ahead. In every clash, in every calculated move, the Vampire Monarch proved why he stood at the pinnacle of their rank. Magnus's strikes were ferocious, his will unyielding, but it wasn't enough. And then, there was the undeniable edge that came with Caladros's vampiric nature—an endurance and vitality that far outstripped anything Magnus could summon as a human.
But he couldn't afford to let that be the end.
He had to surpass Caladros. He had to grow stronger, to find a way to turn the tide.
'How?' The question echoed through his mind like a mocking refrain, relentless and unanswerable. His eyes narrowed, watching his opponent's every movement. Near the beginning of their battle, Magnus had managed to inflict a deep wound to Caladros's side, a stroke of luck when the Vampire Monarch had been momentarily distracted. But since then? Nothing.
Every strike Magnus unleashed was met and countered with an almost casual mastery that left no room for mistakes. The gash on Caladros's side had long since healed, a mere memory in a battle that refused to yield. The strongest vampire stood as an unshakable mountain, looming and insurmountable.
Magnus exhaled sharply, his grip tightening on his Nyxthar. The answer seemed so simple: he had to grow.
He had to reach high Radiant-rank.
But how? That elusive level loomed just beyond his grasp, tantalizing and undefined. There was no guidebook for breaking through, no mentor to steer him toward that peak. He had pushed himself to mid Radiant-rank long ago, but since then, his power had plateaued. No matter how hard he fought, how fiercely he trained, the gap between him and Caladros remained a chasm.
Caladros was at the peak of mid Radiant-rank, his power just shy of the next echelon, but Magnus knew—if he could somehow cross into high Radiant-rank, the battle would change. He would change.
He just needed to figure out how.
Magnus shifted his stance, his body protesting under the strain of the battle. Caladros's crimson eyes gleamed, a flicker of amusement dancing within their depths. The Vampire Monarch could feel it, couldn't he? That Magnus was nearing his limit. That time was running out.
But Magnus refused to yield. He refused to break.
Somehow, he had to find the answer. And he had to find it now.
__________________________________________________________________________________
Far from the clash of titans, Alyssara stood unnoticed, her jade eyes fixed on the battlefield where Caladros and Magnus waged their grueling war. They were oblivious to her presence, their senses dulled by the single-minded focus required to survive each other's relentless attacks. Even if they weren't so preoccupied, they likely still wouldn't have detected her. Her power, her transcendence, elevated her beyond the range of their perception.
The air around her hummed faintly, a subtle distortion of space itself that reflected her natural affinity. Since attaining high Radiant-rank, Alyssara no longer worried about being sensed. She moved freely, her presence cloaked by the sheer scope of her abilities, a wraith gliding unseen across the Eastern continent.
High Radiant-rank was not merely another step on the ladder. It was a realm apart, a threshold into something other. It was transcendence, pure and simple, the shedding of one's limitations without the physical transformation that accompanied earlier breakthroughs. The body didn't change this time; the essence did. The very essence of a person shifted into something grander, something more complete.
Alyssara had crossed that threshold in her own unique, defiant way. Absorbing the vampire contract that once bound her, she had redefined her own biology. The change wasn't just spiritual—it was woven into her very genetics. She had evolved beyond human, beyond vampire, into something entirely new. That act of defiance against the natural order was what had propelled her forward, unlocking the power she now wielded with casual ease.
As she watched the battle, her lips curled into a faint, amused smile. The ground trembled with the force of their strikes, their Unity-powered weapons cleaving through the very fabric of space. Caladros, the proud monarch of the vampires, was as indomitable as ever, and Magnus, humanity's strongest, fought with the tenacity of a cornered beast. Neither was backing down, and yet neither could claim victory.
Alyssara considered her options.
Even at her current level, she knew better than to underestimate them. Facing Caladros and Magnus simultaneously at full strength would be reckless. Both were seasoned warriors, each capable of exploiting the smallest misstep. But now? Now, as exhaustion carved into their movements and the strain of prolonged combat etched across their faces?
She could kill them both.
The thought wasn't idle. Alyssara calculated her chances with precision, as was her nature. Both combatants were visibly fatigued, their strikes powerful but less frequent, their defenses just a fraction slower. If she struck now, the battle would end in minutes, and two of the greatest obstacles to her goals would be gone.
But just because she could didn't mean she should.
Her fingers idly twisted a lock of her pink hair as she mulled over the implications. Killing Caladros would disrupt the vampires, shattering their hierarchy and leaving their forces leaderless. Killing Magnus would deliver a devastating blow to humanity's morale, perhaps even crippling their efforts to withstand the Red Chalice Cult.
It was an intoxicating prospect. A decisive strike, a swift end to the chaos. But Alyssara didn't act on impulse. Not anymore. Every move she made was deliberate, weighed against the larger tapestry of her ambitions.
Magnus was still useful. He was the shield humanity clung to, and as long as he stood, he would keep them from falling into despair. And Caladros? The Vampire Monarch still had his role to play. Alyssara had plans for the vampires, and she wasn't about to squander their potential.
Her gaze flicked between the two combatants, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. "Not yet," she murmured to herself. The threads of space shifted around her as she prepared to leave, her presence never once acknowledged by the two warriors locked in their brutal dance.
Her time would come. But not today.
Such was the paradox of Alyssara's existence now. The weight of her power, vast and unyielding, pressed against her like an unspoken law. She could no longer act freely, bound not by chains but by the sheer enormity of her abilities and the ripples they could unleash.
If she wished, she could extinguish humanity's hope in a calculated campaign, dismantling their Radiant-rankers one by one until nothing but despair remained. Or, with equal ease, she could sweep the cults and the black mana species from existence, delivering humanity a victory they had not earned. She could be the hand that shaped the fate of the world—destroyer or savior, as she saw fit.
But she would choose neither.
It wasn't because she lacked the will or the clarity to wield her power. It was because of Arthur. Because she loved him. And love, she had learned, required restraint.
Arthur, with his unyielding determination and that unshakable spark in his soul, was still too fragile. Too young to bear the weight of what she could unleash. He wasn't yet ready to weather the storms that would follow if she acted so boldly. The consequences of her power, even wielded for his sake, would crush him before he could rise to meet them.
So Alyssara tempered herself, not out of fear, but out of love. She did not see her restraint as weakness but as an investment in the future. A future where Arthur would stand beside her, his strength grown to match her own. Only then could they face the world together, on equal footing, as it trembled before them.
But for now, she waited, her power a quiet storm on the horizon. Someday, the world would feel the full force of Alyssara Velcroix. But not today. Today, she would leave the battlefield untouched, letting others play their parts in the game.
Because Arthur deserved the chance to grow, and Alyssara would see to it that he reached his potential—even if it meant holding back the power that made her the strongest.
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