Sacrifices

A fiery eruption and the clash of swords echoed through the serene riverbank. The sun had long descended beneath the western horizon, yet their fierce battle showed no signs of relenting.

Brendant, momentarily propelled backward by a searing fire attack, found himself engulfed in swirling smoke. Desperately gasping for breath, his once-immaculate white hair was now disheveled, mired in dirt and dust.

Across from him stood Rimbus, still a picture of battle-worn resilience, with portions of his armor absent, and wounds marking his body. Yet, an unyielding smile graced his lips, as if he held mastery over the tumultuous combat.

"What does your devotion mean, Brendant?" questioned the man with the imposing mustache, his stride faltering like a dance step gone awry. "After you departed from the Phantom Omega?"

Narrowing his eyes and steadying his trembling hands, Brendant extended his sword forward and replied with lips stained by the battle's toll, "I've come to the realization that my devotion has been misplaced all this time."

Rimbus responded with a knowing chuckle, amused by Brendant's revelation. "Ironically, are you certain you've now found your way to the right side of this conflict?"

"Do you believe you're fighting for righteousness in Nisiar?" The clash of metal accompanied his measured advance toward Brendant, closing the gap between them. "Caeloria has brought nothing but devastation, and it worsens as they allow those machines to proliferate!"

He paused, raising his left hand to shoulder height with a practiced grace. "They've sapped our Prana to a point where its mastery eludes even the most determined." Suddenly, a blaze of bluish-red fire erupted from his palm.

Brendant was taken aback as Rimbus unleashed an unprecedented display of power. The flame burned with an extraordinary intensity, capable of effortlessly melting even steel, rendering Brendant's sword seemingly impotent against it.

"Erasing all magic with your futile machines!" Despite his condition, Rimbus displayed astonishing agility, leaping into the air and directing his magic toward Brendant.

Brendant, the silver-haired warrior, opted for caution over reckless confrontation. He countered with a series of precise strikes that Rimbus skillfully parried. The intense duel continued unabated, with both swordsmen drawing upon their honed techniques.

However, it became increasingly evident that Brendant's technique held a mastery superior to Rimbus's. Utilizing his shield, he deflected Rimbus's attacks and expertly disarmed him. With a swift pivot, he thrust his sword directly at Rimbus.

The strike found its mark, targeting a vulnerable area on Rimbus's abdomen where his armor offered minimal protection. Rimbus briefly knelt, clutching the wound, and swiftly evaded as Brendant aimed for his head.

Blood trickled from Rimbus's mouth, and he hastily wiped it away, his resolve undeterred amidst the relentless battle. "Do you want all this incredible force to vanish, Brendant?"

Brendant chose the path of silence, well aware of the pressing issue at hand – the gradual contamination of Prana due to the relentless march of the industrial revolution. However, in the same breath, he couldn't disregard how these technological innovations had reshaped the world, steering it toward a brighter future. "I do believe Prana can find its place in a world like this."

"Perhaps you've lost sight of the fact that the very transportation and military gear you now bear are fruits of this industrial revolution," Brendant remarked while resolutely readying his sword once more. "It's the nature of progress to demand sacrifices for a better life."

Rimbus, his burned hand reignited with the brilliant blue flames, retorted, "Do you truly hold this belief?" With a swift motion, he placed his hand on his sword, veiling the blade in the all-consuming blue fire. "If that's your conviction, then there's something amiss within your mind."

With a burst of astonishing speed, Rimbus lunged at Brendant, reigniting their fierce duel. This time, Brendant sensed that his trusty steel sword was indeed being corroded from within by the relentless, insidious fire.

He executed an effective kick to distance Rimbus and both combatants poised for a sidelong strike. As their weapons collided once more in a spectacular display of sparks, Brendant's sword shattered into pieces, leaving him utterly astonished and disarmed amidst the chaos of their relentless confrontation.

Exploiting this opportunity, Rimbus relentlessly surged toward the vulnerable Brendant. Yet, Brendant's nimbleness compelled him to summon his shield, which stoically endured the fiery onslaught emanating from Rimbus's sword.

As the moments passed, shielded though he remained, Brendant could sense the scorching heat upon his hand. The metal gradually weakened under the ceaseless assault, and Brendant recognized the necessity for action. He clenched his right hand, concentrating the entirety of his Prana energy into a singular focal point.

In a thunderous impact, he struck his own shield, generating an explosion that catapulted Rimbus skyward - launching him across the river to the opposite bank. The power unleashed was so formidable that it instantaneously shattered Brendant's own defense.

On the other side, sparks of fire flickered repeatedly from the hands of the brown-haired man, accompanied by captivating displays from all three individuals present. Hensen, despite the weight of his steel armor, moved with remarkable agility thanks to the power of Prana.

This fell within the realm of Physical Level, where those who had attained such a level could effortlessly modify their bodies as if they bore no weight at all. Unfortunately, both members of the Phantom Omega possessed this same ability.

Lithia, observing their actions, struggled mightily to rise after being pierced. She could barely move her arms, her joints stiffened and agonizingly painful when she attempted to. Tears welled in her eyes, inching slowly as she reached out for her sword.

The black-haired man's thrusting attack proved no challenge for Hensen, who effortlessly deflected it and sent it crashing aside with a swift kick. With remarkable agility, he parried multiple fiery strikes launched by the brown-haired combatant, but it became increasingly apparent that he was struggling to keep up.

As the relentless onslaught from the Phantom Omega pair continued, fatigue gradually overcame Hensen, causing his focus to waver. The searing flames from the brown-haired man's hands left Hensen's cheek scorched, the burn marking his skin with an angry red hue. Weakened and stumbling, he tumbled to the ground amidst a scattering of rocks.

The Phantom Omega member swiftly retrieved his sword, springing onto Hensen with his blade aimed downward like the executioner's axe. Hensen reacted with a desperate roll, causing the sword to shatter into fragments as he forcefully kicked it away.

Rolling backward and struggling to his feet, Hensen tried to muster what strength remained for the impending battle. The brown-haired assailant wasted no time, launching a lightning-fast barrage of strikes. Hensen, his stamina dwindling with every punishing blow, gritted his teeth and fought to withstand the assault.

"What's the matter?" taunted the Phantom Omega member with a sly grin. "Seems like there's nothing left of you, huh?"

"In that case," added the brown-haired man, having successfully executed a combination of attacks that left Hensen utterly defenseless. "Allow me to put an end to you!"

With a well-aimed kick directed at Hensen's chest, protected by his armor, the force managed to penetrate deeply, leaving Hensen gasping for breath as he lay sprawled on the ground.

"I'm impressed," remarked the man clad in black. "You still managed to withstand my Prana surge without getting thrown off."

He then stepped closer, all the while keeping a close eye on Hensen, who was struggling to rise but found it exceedingly challenging. "You've killed two of my comrades, you bastard! I'll never forgive you!"

From his right hand, an exceptionally long and razor-sharp knife emerged, seemingly sprouting from his wrist, much like Herich's weapon when facing Artonius. He had prepared for his final strike, aiming squarely for Hensen's neck.

"You're dead!" As the swing was executed, blood splashed out in a torrent. But to his surprise, it was not Hensen that he slashed, but Lithia's back.

Hensen's eyes widened in disbelief, unable to fathom that Lithia would commit such an act. What he beheld before him was the woman who had always stood by his side during missions, her beautiful blonde hair cascading freely as she received the deadly slash.

For a fleeting moment, their gazes locked, and Lithia managed a faint smile, tears still streaming down her face, before collapsing to her knees. However, without any mercy, the Phantom Omega member callously yanked her back up by her hair, forcing Lithia to stand once more.

He viciously impaled right through Lithia's chest, witnessed in Hensen's direct sight. The woman groaned in pain, screaming as loudly as she could. Finally, she began to weaken, the vibrations in her body became limp, and blood started to seep out of her mouth that was trying to maintain her smile.

"I'm sorry," the soft, inaudible voice brought tears to Hensen's eyes, unable to accept the reality before him.

As he pulled off his sword from her, barren of compassion, he tossed Lithia aside with callous indifference. "Just a nuisance!" he declared before refocusing his attention on Hensen. "Let's continue, shall we?"

Meanwhile, Hensen remained speechless, his watch fixed on Lithia's lifeless body, unresponsive to everything even as her death lay before him. His vacant stare showed no sign of comprehending the shocking turn of events.

"Oh, it seems you'd like to join your friend after all," taunted the brown-haired member of the Phantom Omega, directing his weapon right above Hensen's head. "I'd be happy to oblige!"