Footsteps echoed sharply through the narrow, desolate alleys of Berkyo. A cultist, his black robe billowing in the wind, was sprinting desperately toward the massive Clock Tower that stood dead center in the city. His breath came in ragged gasps, but his pace never slackened.
Right behind him, only a short distance away, was Ray. Ray's eyes were closed, his face taut with sheer focus and anger. He wasn't tracking the cultist with his sight, but rather through his senses, locking onto the enemy's presence and refusing to let him slip away. The cultist veered into the thinnest, most labyrinthine paths of the residential district to shake him off, but Ray gritted his teeth and burst forward with a sudden surge of speed.
By now, the cultist could feel the suffocating pressure behind him. He knew death was right at his heels.
Suddenly, as he sprinted, Ray spotted a wooden stick lying on the ground. Without breaking stride, he scooped it up, leaped with tremendous power, and landed squarely on the roof of a nearby house. Opening his eyes, he locked his gaze onto the fleeing figure below. Channeling his lightning magic, crackling blue currents surged through the wood. With a fierce swing, he hurled the electrified stick straight at the cultist's legs.
Shhh!
The lightning-infused stick tore through the air, but the intense heat and raw electrical pressure were too much; before it could even touch the cultist's legs, the wooden stick disintegrated into ash mid-air.
Before Ray could fully recover his balance, he sensed a sudden, malevolent presence right beside him. But he was a fraction of a second too late.
BAM!
Another cultist materialized from the shadows, delivering a brutal, sweeping kick straight to Ray's face. The attack was so sudden and blindingly fast that Ray couldn't form a block. The impact shattered his nose, sending blood spurting into the air as the force skidded him back across the rooftops.
The new cultist's face was completely obscured by a dark cloth, but a twisted, sinister grin was clearly visible beneath the fabric.
Standing back up on the roof, Ray wiped the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. Taking a deep, stabilizing breath, he closed his eyes and sensed the surrounding area. Once he was absolutely certain that no innocent civilians were nearby, a cold, calm smile tugged at his lips.
"Good... there's no one around," Ray said, cracking his neck. "Now I can use my fire magic on you without holding back."
The masked cultist burst into a manic, echoing laugh. "Thank you for letting me know! Now I can cut loose with my magic too. My hands have been freezing lately... it's been too long since I've warmed them up!"
Ray didn't waste another heartbeat. A violent crimson mana erupted from his body, and within seconds, roaring flames enveloped him. Slamming both hands onto the roof's surface, he unleashed his spell.
Sssss...
Two massive snakes made of pure, searing fire surged out of the ground, lunging forward with terrifying speed to coil tightly around the cultist's arms. The heat was so corrosive that it instantly began sizzling through the cultist's skin. Yet, instead of screaming in agony, the cultist simply grinned through the pain. "A strong start... but let's see if you can survive the finish!"
With a violent wrench, the cultist drew a hidden sword from beneath his robe. A dark, oppressive aura flared around his body as he took a few heavy steps forward. Ray flicked his wrists, and a brilliant, crackling sword of pure fire manifested in his grip.
They charged at each other like streaks of light.
CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!
Blades clashed repeatedly in the dead of night, sending showers of bright sparks flying into the dark sky. It was a relentless exchange of lethal strikes and desperate parries. Spotting a sharp, incoming slash, Ray tracked the trajectory and countered with a powerful kick aimed straight at the cultist's stomach. The cultist managed to block the kick, but he wasn't prepared for Ray's next move.
Ray channeled his momentum and planted a devastating punch right into the cultist's face.
BOOM!
The punch carried enough explosive force to launch the cultist through the air, crashing violently through the walls of a nearby house. Ray sprinted after him instantly. His speed was so immense and his fire mana so dense that the ground and rooftops caught fire in his wake.
As Ray surged forward, a sword whistled through the air from the side, slicing clean through his clothes but missing his flesh. The cultist, coughing up blood, was already dragging himself out of the debris, having thrown his own weapon in desperation.
"Magnificent! My hands are finally warming up," the cultist spat, wiping the blood from his chin.
Clasping his hands together, the cultist began chanting a spell in a forbidden, ancient tongue.
The very next moment, a colossal magic circle covered in intricate, alien patterns manifested in the night sky directly above Ray. It was massive, casting a wide, ominous shadow over the entire district. A blinding, terrifying column of light began to descend from the center of the array.
Ray's instincts screamed at him. Flooding his legs with mana, he sprinted at breakneck speed, desperate to clear the boundary of the magic circle.
The moment the light touched the earth, there was no explosive blast. Instead, something far more horrifying occurred. Anything the light grazed—be it stone, houses, or the earth itself—instantly dissolved into fine white ash. Within a heartbeat, the entire area was reduced to a barren wasteland of dust. The flash was so brilliant that Ray was forced to shield his eyes.
When the blinding light finally faded and the magic circle vanished from the sky, Ray opened his eyes and gasped. The landscape was unrecognizable. Everything had been turned to a quiet, smoking field of ash.
The cultist walked slowly through the gray dust, his tattered robe fluttering gently. Licking his lips, he sneered, "How did you like my magic?"
Ray stared back, his eyes narrowing. "You're nothing but a monster causing senseless destruction." "That is exactly my job," the cultist laughed maniacally. "To breed absolute chaos everywhere!"
As the cultist laughed, a tactical spark went off in Ray's mind. Without a single word of warning, he snapped his hand forward, firing a high-speed Fire Bullet. The projectile was too fast to fully evade; it tore clean through the cultist's shoulder, sending a spray of blood into the air.
"Let me show you my magic now," Ray said, his voice dropping to a freezing whisper.
Ray unleashed a relentless barrage of fire bullets. The cultist dodged erratically, franticly trying to escape the onslaught, but one bullet caught him squarely in the leg. Crippled, the cultist stumbled and came to a halt in the middle of the ash wasteland. Ray stood looking down at him from the roof of a half-burnt house.
Enraged and screaming, the cultist used the last of his strength to burst forward, appearing directly in front of Ray with a mad, desperate smile.
But Ray was completely prepared. He instantly activated his Palm Flame. His entire hand glowed with a deep, molten gold-and-crimson hue. The fire didn't erupt outward; instead, it clung tightly to his skin, vibrating with a terrifyingly concentrated heat.
Ray swung his arm and delivered a brutal, heavy slap right across the cultist's face.
SMACK!
The concussive force of the Palm Flame sent the cultist flying across the wasteland. He tried to push himself back up, but Ray closed the distance instantly, offering no room to breathe. Ray rained a savage succession of strikes down upon his face, pummeling him into the dirt until the cultist lay entirely broken, pooling in his own blood.
Lurching unsteadily, the cultist tried to stand, but his legs could barely support his weight. His manic laughter had completely twisted into raw, unadulterated hatred.
"You've wasted too much of my time... brat! I underestimated you, but no more. I will slice you into ribbons and throw you to the fish!" the cultist screamed, his voice cracking with rage.
Ray looked down at him, utterly unfazed. "Have you looked at yourself lately?"
The cultist let out a bloody chuckle. "Don't worry about me, look at yourself! You haven't even seen my Demon Transformation yet!"
To the cultist's shock, Ray burst into laughter. The sheer confidence in that laugh made a cold sweat break out across the cultist's brow.
"Transform into a demon? Do you honestly think you have enough mana left for a transformation?" Ray asked, his eyes locking onto the cultist's trembling gaze. "The attack you just used—Ashen Judgment—I know it well. It was created by an Angel, and it drains every last drop of an caster's mana."
Hearing Ray's words, the cultist audibly gulped. Reality finally set in: he didn't have enough mana left to trigger the transformation. Panicking, he tried to lung forward, but it was already too late.
Ray brought his hands together and intoned a quiet enchantment.
A small magic circle materialized directly over the cultist's head. Though it lacked the grand scale of the previous attack, the moment its light touched the cultist, it incinerated him entirely. In a flash, he was reduced to ash, leaving nothing behind but a scorched scrap of his robe drifting to the ground.
Ray let out a slow exhale. "I know that attack too... I just haven't mastered it yet."
At that exact moment, in front of the grand Clock Tower of Berkyo, Marcus Reed froze. He felt the sudden shift in the ambient energy, his crimson eyes gleaming through the darkness.
He knew. His two pawns had just been permanently wiped off the board. A slow, menacing smile spread across Marcus's face.