The cultist's curved blade whistled through the air black mana trailing behind it in.
Lucien body exploded in shimmering light killing the cultist that swarmed him. "I won't make it!"
The blade was already an inch away from the little girl's neck
The cultist laughed, low and wet, yanking his sword free. "One less light in the dark. The Lord of Flies will awaken—!"
His words died in his throat.
The blood on his blade shimmered, then dissolved into golden sparks that scattered on the wind.
He blinked, confused. Only then after three seconds... he feel it.
A single, perfect line of red bloomed across his own throat.
His eyes widened in slow, dawning horror.
He raised his trembling hand onto his neck and found his fingers coming away soaked.
His sword, still gripped tight, had somehow turned in his own grasp mid-swing.
The edge that had killed the girl had instead opened his jugular in one clean. "I-Impossib—!"
There stood a tall man behind him with a beard and a cold look at his face.
He didn't even realize he had been the one who got cut.
The cultist staggered, he collapsed beside the girl, twitching once before passing out.
The man's goatee neatly trimmed, no mustache: cold, sharp eyes, the kind that had seen too many battles.
A simple black-and-gold coat bearing the Helios Guild crest fluttered around him.
Mathis Descoteaux, Fighter Peak-S Rank adventurer, Grade ll sorcerer.
His hand rest at the hilt of his sword.
Little girl stood unharmed, she clutched her teddy bear tightly, tears still falling, but now staring up at the tall man with wide eyes.
Mathis glanced over his shoulder at her, his cold expression softening by a fraction—the barest hint of a gentle smile only the girl could see.
"You're alright, little one." he murmured, voice low.
Lucien eyes wide with disbelief. "Mathis Descoteaux, Captain of the Helios Guild..."
Ivy zipped to Lucien's shoulder, wings trembling. "That was… that was insane! You swapped her with an illusion? Even I didn't see the trigger..."
Mathis gave a small nod, he stepped protectively in front of the child. "Grade II is useful for more than just fooling the eye," he said simply.
"Sometimes the cruelest monsters are the ones who never realize they've already killed themselves."
The little girl ran forward, throwing her arms around his leg with a tiny sob.
Mathis rested a hand on her head gentle, fatherly—while his other hand drew the blade at his hip.
His eyes turned to Lucien, voice calm "Take the girl, and find her mother—Evacuation point is three blocks east under the bridge, get her out of here alive. You should be able to meet the others there.
Lucien, still having a hard time breathing "Captain… but the cultists—"
"I said move." Mathis' tone left no room for argument, cold old-man gaze softening only when it brushed the little girl still clinging to his leg.
He rested a gentle hand on her head one last time. "Go on, little one, big brother Lucien will keep you safe."
The child looked up at him with teary eyes, teddy bear clutched tight then nodded shakily.
Ivy fluttered down from Lucien's shoulder.
Lucien grabbed the girl into his arms. He broke into a sprint, the child's face buried against his shoulder.
Mathis watched them disappear around the corner. Then he turned forward again, and began to walk.
The distant sound of explosions and helicopter rotors faded behind him as he moved deeper into the ruined street.
A lone cultist—dark hair slicked back with soot and blood, silver earrings, a jagged black tattoo crawling across his right cheek stood there laughing over a terrified woman.
She clutched her crying baby to her chest, eyes wide with horror as the cultist twirled a sharp mirror between his fingers.
"Come on, pretty mother," the cultist sneered. "Hand over the little one. Beelzebub loves the taste of fresh innocence, don't make me carve it out of you—"
Mathis moved a sudden unpredictable blur. His sword connected with the cultist's face quickly releasing the blade that punctured the face then followed up by a kick in the abdomen.
The cultist's head snapped back, earrings flying off in opposite directions, blood spraying in a wide arc.
His body was launched backwards smashing through the brick wall of the bakery with enough force to create a crater.
Mathis stood there, lowering his fist, his expression unchanged cold, "Is this how cultists treats the weak? Harassing civilians with a child in their arms...Pathetic."
The cultist slid down the cracked wall, coughing blood, face already is a ruined mess of bruises and bone. But he didn't stay down.
A low, chuckle bubbled from his throat, flesh knit itself back together in seconds.
He pushed himself up, cracking his neck with a grin that split wider than it should have been able to.
"Heh… not bad, for an old man," the cultist rasped, wiping blood from his cheek. "But you'll have to do better than that."
Mathis didn't flinch. He simply adjusted his coat, and same cold stare. "Regeneration, huh?" His voice stayed low.
The cultist throwed multiple broken mirror fragments and lunged with a snarl, "Let's see if you can punch through this, Helios dog—!"
At the ruined wedding marquee, the clash between Gul and Kael had escalated into pure devastation.
Gul's épée flashed in a whirlwind of Revibration strikes, each thrust stacking invisible vibrations that shattered the air.
Kael met every blow with raw, bare-fisted power, buildings crumbled around them.
A shockwave from their collision tore through a nearby café, sending tables and chairs flying like leaves in a hurricane.
Another exchange smashed through the side of a historic apartment block; bricks rained down as Gul leaped onto a collapsing rooftop.
Gul unleashed a vertical slash that split the sky.
Kael laughed, and met it head-on. His scarred fist collided with the blade.
The impact detonated like a bomb—glass windows for three blocks exploded outward.
Gul was sent skidding backward across the rubble.
Sweat beaded on his hair. His breathing came ragged.
Kael stood untouched in the crater they had made, cracking his knuckles.
"You're slowing down," he mocked mocked. "I can feel your attacks… getting weaker."
He lunged again faster, and heavier.
Gul raised his épée to parry, but Kael's free hand suddenly clamped around the blade mid-swing.
Gul's eyes widened by the sudden action a bead dropped within his chin.
Kael grinned, his fist was an inch away from Gul's head.
Time seemed to slow down...