Chapter 49: The clash
The air between the two human anomalies warped violently as the fading twilight caught the edges of their weapons.
To the thousands of elven vanguard troops paralyzed on the high battlements, what was about to transpire flatly broke their laws of natural combat.
No mana circles were forming. No incantations were being chanted. The atmosphere was simply being hollowed out by the sheer weight of two apex physical baselines preparing to collide.
Balthazar didn’t offer another word.
BOOM!
The stone courtyard beneath the Dread Commander’s massive iron boots exploded into a fine white powder as he lunged forward.
His towering, obsidian-clad figure became a terrifying blur of black metal and tattered blood-red fabric. He brought the colossal, jagged executioner’s axe down in a massive, vertical cleave designed to split Vince, the courtyard, and the very foundations of the city gate into absolute nothingness. The sheer air pressure preceding the blade tore a three-foot-deep trench through the stone before the metal even made contact.
But Vince’s purple eyes didn’t even widen.
Gale Step.
Within a microsecond, the system registered the command. Vince’s neural pathways, completely optimized by his elven adaptation parameters, fired with sub-sonic velocity.
To the watching Queen on the high battlements, the human vanished into thin air, leaving behind a sharp, explosive crack of broken sound where his body had been standing a millisecond prior.
Balthazar’s colossal axe smashed violently into the empty courtyard.
CRASH!!!
A seismic explosion ripped through the stone, tearing a thirty-foot crater into the ground and sending massive boulders flying into the air like shrapnel. Yet, his target was entirely gone.
"Too slow,"
a deadpan whisper resonated directly behind Balthazar’s reinforced iron helm.
The Dread Commander’s burning red eyes flared with sudden fury inside his visor. He attempted to pivot his massive shoulders to swing his elbow backward, but Vince’s sub-sonic acceleration had already placed him in perfect striking alignment.
Lifting The Executioner’s Edge with a single, tightly coiled arm, Vince unleashed a brutal, horizontal upward slash.
CLANG!!!
A sound like a localized thunderbolt echoed across the valley. The gunmetal-grey blade struck the small of Balthazar’s back.
The sheer, monstrous physical strength behind the swing didn’t just cut—it transferred a catastrophic kinetic load straight through the obsidian armor plates.
Balthazar let out a matted, guttural grunt as his massive, seven-foot frame was violently lifted off the ground, stumbling forward several paces before anchoring his iron boots into the stone. He spun around wildly, the jagged edge of his axe tearing through the air in a defensive perimeter, but Vince had already drifted back, standing twenty feet away with his sword resting loosely over his shoulder.
High above, the Queen’s breath hitched completely. Her full, sweeping hips pressed hard against the stone railing as she leaned over the edge, her deep amber eyes wide with shock.
"Is he really human?,"
the Queen murmured, her angelic voice barely audible over the roaring wind.
"He precisely calculated the trajectory of the descent and struck the only structural vulnerability in the lower lumbar plating. Elder Everwood... did you see any core activation?"
"There... there was none, Your Majesty,"
Everwood stammered, his dark grin entirely replaced by a cold sweat.
"The human possesses no internal mana signature. It is pure, unadulterated strength."
Down on the fractured stones, Balthazar’s chest rose and fell heavily. The dark obsidian iron along his back was severely dented, radiating a faint distortion of heat from the friction. His raspy breath rattled through the narrow slit of his helmet.
"Is that all your pathetic body gives you, boy?"
Balthazar roared, his voice laced with the fanatical intensity of a true warrior.
"I have broken kingdoms! I have cleansed entire lineages! Your parlor tricks cannot breach the iron will of the my mind and axe!"
Balthazar unleashed a barrage of relentless, heavy horizontal swings.
Each strike was a localized hurricane, tearing up the courtyard and sending jagged stone projectiles flying in every direction.
He wasn’t just aiming for Vince anymore; he was trying to deny him the very ground he stood upon, turning the entire quadrant into a death zone of crushing weight.
Yet, Vince moved like a phantom dancing through a summer breeze.
Gale Step.
Gale Step.
To the thousands of elven archers watching from above, Vince looked like a flickering sequence of purple static.
He would appear directly to Balthazar’s left, draw a precise, ringing
CLANG
off his shoulder guard, and vanish before the massive axe could retaliate. Then, a sharp
SNAP
would echo from the right as the flat of Vince’s blade deflected off Balthazar’s knee, throwing the lumbering giant off balance.
For five agonizing minutes, the courtyard was filled with nothing but the continuous, deafening rhythm of shattering iron and explosive sonic booms.
Balthazar was screaming now, a raw, primal sound of escalating fury.
"Quit running! Fight me like a warrior, you coward! Face the judgment of the iron!"
He threw his entire weight into a massive, earth-shattering downward plunge, desperate to catch Vince in the shockwave.
But as the smoke cleared, Vince was simply standing atop the very ridge of Balthazar’s buried axe blade, his arms crossed, balancing effortlessly with a relaxed, mocking smile.
It was in that exact moment that the atmosphere on the battlements completely shifted.
The Queen stood completely motionless, her amber eyes tracking Vince’s posture. She noticed it first—the complete lack of perspiration on his brow, the steady, rhythmic rise and fall of his chest, and the way his purple eyes weren’t focused on Balthazar’s weapon, but rather on the shifting clouds above.
"He... he isn’t trying to kill him, at least not yet"
The Queen whispered, her voice trembling as a sudden, chilling realization washed over her royal mind.
"Look at his footwork. He isn’t maximizing his potential. He is intentionally delaying his vibrations after each hit. He is deliberately allowing the Commander to reset his stance after every single engagement."
"I see it too your highness,"
Everwood gasped, squinting down at the field.
"It’s quite astonishing. But why would he—"
"It’s almost as if he’s enjoying it,"
the Queen interrupted, her hand clenching the marble railing until it pulverized into dust beneath her nails. Her exceptionally busty frame heaved with a mixture of awe and profound terror.
"Balthazar... is nothing more than a toy in his hands. He could end this whenever he chooses."
Down below, Balthazar looked up, his burning red eyes locking onto Vince, who was still casually standing on his weapon. The absolute disrespect finally pierced through the Commander’s fanatical haze.
He looked at the precise, shallow cuts across his armor—none of them fatal, but each one perfectly placed to dismantle his mobility. He looked at Vince’s unbothered, deadpan face
The realization hit Balthazar like a physical blow.
The fury that consumed his soul instantly mutated into a toxic, humiliating rage.
"You..."
Balthazar hissed, his teeth grinding together so loudly it could be heard across the courtyard.
"Is this some sort of game to you!"
Vince tilted his head, his smirk widening into a cold, predatory grin as he hopped lightly off the axe blade, landing soundlessly on the gravel.
"Call it what ever you want, muscle-brain."
"I WILL RIP YOUR HEART OUT THROUGH YOUR THROAT!"
Balthazar shrieked, an entirely unnatural, dark red aura exploding from his physical framework as his absolute humiliation pushed his baseline past its limits.
The sheer force of his rage caused the surrounding stones to dissolve into liquid slag.
He tore his axe from the ground, his movements becoming erratic, violent, and completely unhinged.
Vince smoothly drew The Executioner’s Edge back into a low, defensive guard, his purple eyes flashing with ultimate finality as the system interface quietly updated in his vision.
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