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Chapter Twenty-Seven
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The scissors did not cut through his body.
Karsu saw it before it happened.
He saw it the moment the threads unfolded, in the very second the imaginary blade was about to split the man before him in half.
The scene was slow.
Cox was in the air, his massive body suspended between sky and earth, the black Halberd still raised above his head.
His face—that face that had been laughing moments ago—was frozen in an expression Karsu could not immediately interpret.
Not fear. Not surprise.
Something else.
As if—
he knew.
Then—the threads touched his body.
The layer of Obsidian covering his chest was thick, gleaming, like a black mirror reflecting the moonlight.
It looked solid. It looked capable of repelling anything.
But it did not repel.
The threads passed through it. They did not cut it—they split it.
The sound was faint, like glass creaking under a heavy step.
A thin white line appeared across Cox's chest, from his left shoulder to his right, as if drawn by a precise brush.
The air stopped.
Then—Karsu saw the blood.
It was not excessive.
Thin red threads seeped from beneath the Obsidian layer, searching for a way out.
And against the black stone, the blood looked like fire over Charcoal.
There, Cox shouted loudly as he saw the attack, as if protesting or blaming Karsu.
"I didn't complete the formation of the Obsidian!"
Cox thought, extremely irritated:
"This damned attack was never just iron and metal to cut the pride of Obsidian's hardness! Damn it—if Obsidian didn't need time to form, it wouldn't have cut my pillars!"
In that moment, Cox understood his position.
The Obsidian layer was thick—but not complete.
Beneath the surface, his body was still human. Muscles, veins, bones—all exposed to the threads that carved their path.
If he had completed the transformation… my attack wouldn't have affected him at all.
Because Cox began to fall.
Not a normal fall.
He dropped like a rock slipping from a mountain peak.
He struck the ground at insane speed—the earth shattered beneath him.
He bounced. Fell again. The ground broke once more.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Each time, the ground cracked, opened, swallowed part of his body—until he sank into it.
Only his legs remained, sticking out of the soil like a broken flag.
Silence.
Then—the hands moved.
They emerged from the dirt. Open palms. Then fists.
And Cox came out.
He leapt from the crater with a jolt, shaking dust off his shoulders, his torn clothes hanging like a defeated flag.
The wound was still on his chest—a wide, horizontal line from shoulder to shoulder, bleeding slowly.
Yet—
he was laughing.
His smile returned. But it was not one of amusement.
It was the smile of someone who had seen death up close—and despised it.
He looked at his wound.
At the blood running down his chest. Then raised his eyes to Karsu.
"This attack… is strong. Truly."
His laughter was loud, rough.
"So… my turn?"
---
Karsu did not respond.
He was thinking.
That attack—the scissors—was only at 25%.
Anything more would have severely injured him… or perhaps killed him.
Or so I thought…
I didn't tear him apart. I didn't cut him. It seems I underestimated him.
He didn't complete the Obsidian transformation. That is true.
But his body itself—his bare body—endured what remained of the attack.
Karsu observed Cox as he sank into his memory.
Most Qaz Lords believe that power comes from Qaz alone.
They neglect the body.
They think their Qaz is the weapon, and everything else merely a vessel.
But the truth is different.
Qaz grows stronger with the raw strength of its user.
A trained body enhances Qaz. It grants it hardness. It grants it endurance that those who neglect themselves do not possess.
This is a truth most ignore.
Perhaps even all villagers… and even those who are not villagers…
Karsu looked at Cox. At his scar-filled body. At his hardened muscles. At his unshaken stance despite the blood.
It seemed he had been lucky.
Or perhaps—
he had been smart.
Despite being a villager.
---
Cox did not wait.
He turned around. Beside him, a few steps away, stood a massive tree.
Its trunk was wider than three men, its branches reaching the sky.
He smiled.
He extended his right hand and grabbed the trunk. His muscles expanded, veins bulged in his neck.
Then—he pulled.
The ground beneath the tree cracked. The roots snapped like torn threads.
And the trunk—that massive body of wood and bark—was uprooted.
Cox lifted it with one hand.
Laughing—
he jumped.
He rose several meters into the air, the trunk above his head like a thunderbolt.
Then—he threw it.
It was not a normal throw.
It was like a giant sling. Like a freed catapult.
The trunk shot toward Karsu at a speed unbefitting its size, leaving behind a sound like thunder.
Karsu leapt sideways.
The trunk struck the ground where he had stood. The explosion was immense.
The earth cracked, stones flew, nearby trees were uprooted. Dust rose like a black wall.
Through it—
Karsu saw Cox.
He had not waited.
He was forming another rock between his hands. Larger. Sharper. Pointed like an arrow.
He threw it.
Karsu dodged.
The second explosion was more violent.
Then the third.
The fourth.
The fifth.
Cox had turned into a living cannon.
Each rock he formed shot out like a projectile, and each projectile exploded where it landed.
The dust thickened until nothing could be seen.
But Karsu—
was moving.
Every explosion calculated before it happened. Every rock's trajectory drawn before it left Cox's hand.
The ground around him became a series of craters—
and he walked among them like a man walking through a garden.
Until Cox's shout cut through:
"There's no escape anymore!"
The rock launched.
It was different.
Larger than all before it.
Its surface was rough, uneven, its edges sharp like blades.
It shot like a massive cannon shell toward Karsu—
too fast to dodge.
But Karsu did not try to evade.
He stood in place.
He twisted his torso slightly—half a circle—and extended his arms forward.
His fingers interlocked, as if holding something invisible.
Then—he slowly pulled them apart.
Between each finger—
a thread.
Not one.
Dozens.
Interwoven. Interlaced. Forming a net.
A hunting net.
But not ordinary.
Each thread stretched, loosened, became—
elastic.
The rock arrived.
It struck the net.
It did not cut it.
It did not destroy it.
It pierced it.
But not in the way Cox expected.
The net did not tear.
It simply—
stretched.
The threads extended meters behind Karsu, lengthening, loosening—
then stopped.
A moment of silence.
Then—
it rebounded.
The net surged forward with multiplied force, carrying the rock with it.
The rock Cox himself had created—
returned to him.
---
Cox stood stunned.
"What?! Did he turn his metal threads into rubber threads?!"
He couldn't believe it.
Solid metal threads turning elastic in an instant.
What kind of nonsense was this?
Was this even possible?
But he had no time to think.
The rock was heading toward him.
He smiled.
"Well then… perhaps your focus on learning your Qaz and turning it into flexible forms made you forget a fact about Qaz."
He raised his voice:
"Qaz effects never harm their master! Otherwise how could a fire Qaz Lord turn his arms into flames without burning? And how could a stone Qaz Lord cover himself in rock without suffocating? Hahaha!"
He stood still.
His arms at his sides.
His chest exposed.
His left side—
where the rock would strike.
He smiled.
"Let me show you how strong I am!"
---
BOOOOM!
"!!"
The impact was so violent that Cox spat.
His eyes nearly burst from their sockets.
His body stiffened for a moment—
then stepped back.
But he did not fall.
He stood there, panting.
He looked at the rock stuck to his side.
It had shattered from the impact, but fragments still clung to his torn clothes.
He raised his hand to grab it—
then stopped.
It was his rock.
He created it.
He knew its weight.
Its hardness.
It—
should not have hurt him like this.
"What the hell is this?!"
He looked at Karsu.
"Is this my rock?! Did you change it?! Did you trick me into thinking it's the same?!"
He examined it.
He was sure.
No threads.
No sign of manipulation.
"Then… how did it hurt me?!"
"Even if it isn't mine… what is this stupid force it carries?!"
He placed his hand on his side.
Pain.
Sharp.
Three ribs—
at least three—
were broken.
"A reflected rock… how did it break my ribs?!"
He raised his head.
His eyes met Karsu's.
"What did you do?!"
---
Karsu did not answer.
He simply stood there, looking at him coldly.
But in his mind—
the answer was clear.
It wasn't the rock that hurt you.
It was the Aura.
It coated the threads that caught the rock.
It coated the rock itself.
And when it touched you—
it wasn't the rock that touched you.
It was something else.
Something—
you cannot prevent yourself from.
The Aura.
---
Cox was not the type to think long.
He smiled.
This time—not anger. Not excitement.
The smile of someone who realized he stood before something greater than himself.
"Doesn't matter. I'll uncover the secret after I catch you."
He raised his Halberd.
Then—struck the ground.
---
The earthquake.
Not a normal one.
A single, concentrated strike so violent that the earth around Cox cracked like a massive spiderweb.
The cracks extended toward Karsu—
like stone fingers trying to grab him.
Karsu jumped.
In the air—
he saw what was happening beneath him.
Rocks were emerging from the ground.
Not randomly.
They formed sharp, curved fangs—
like a bear trap.
Closing in on him from all directions.
The hunter's jaws.
Karsu landed.
His rotation was smooth.
His blade moved in a full arc.
The threads around him cut every fang they reached.
Stone scattered like dust.
But Cox—
did not wait.
The ground beneath Karsu—
which had been solid moments ago—
turned into mud.
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The muddy ground.
His feet began to sink.
The mud was sticky, dense—
gripping him as if trying to devour him.
Every time he tried to lift a foot—
it dragged him down.
And now—
came the technique Cox had wanted from the beginning.
Mud Convergence.
Cox raised his arms.
Particles of mud around him began to gather, merge, take shape.
Then—
they launched.
Not from one direction.
From all directions.
From beneath the ground.
From behind trees.
From between the grass.
Like massive mud dragons—
closing in on Karsu.
Surrounding him.
Devouring every escape.
Karsu did not move.
He stood in place.
Mud swallowing his feet.
The dragons approaching from every side.
No escape.
Except—
a small white sphere appeared between his fingers.
Not ordinary.
Compressed from tens of thousands of thin threads.
Small like a walnut—
yet carrying unimaginable energy.
He threw it to the ground.
The moment it touched—
---
Explosion.
Not ordinary.
It broke apart into thousands of thin threads—
each one shooting in a different direction,
cutting through mud, through earth—through everything.
They formed a circle.
A perfect circle.
Five meters in diameter.
Edges sharp like blades.
The center—
empty.
Karsu stood within it.
But the circle did not complete.
It did not expand further.
Because the mud was dense.
Heavy.
Dozens of tons of mud gathered around it—
covering it.
Devouring it.
Forcing it to stop expanding.
Karsu—
sank.
Tens of tons of earth formed above him.
It looked as if a natural hill had suddenly appeared.
---
Beneath the mud hill
Darkness.
Moisture.
Weight.
Karsu did not move.
He knew every movement would consume more oxygen.
He knew every passing second narrowed his chance of escape.
Three possibilities.
First: I suffocate.
I die here.
Without anyone seeing me.
Without anyone knowing I was killed.
Just a corpse beneath the mud.
Second: I escape.
But I'll be exhausted.
Cox will be waiting.
He'll strike before I regain balance.
Third: I escape.
But he won't wait.
He will have prepared the attack I stopped before.
Obsidian.
This time—complete.
He closed his eyes.
He knew that even if he used his strongest defense—
stone Qaz and metal thread Qaz together—
he would not withstand a complete Obsidian attack.
No time.
No options.
Only—
wait.
---
Above the ground—
Cox stood at the edge of the mud hill.
His Halberd in his hand, gleaming with a dark black color.
He was waiting.
His smile returned.
Wide.
Demonic.
"Come… come, Lord of Threads."
He raised the Halberd.
"Let me show you… my true power."
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