A hail of bullets swept through the forest, parting the fog as a thick, almost solid, surge of demonic Qi surged into the air, exposing the silhouette of a figure bearing an oversized sniper rifle upon his back.
“It’s you?!” the two cried out simultaneously. Even though spoken in different languages, mutual comprehension was immediate—comprehension not just of words, but also… emotions.
All joy at standing on the brink of an impending breakthrough was instantly shattered for Qian Ye. On Aiden’s face, a contortion of emotional agony mirrored the deep bitterness gnawing his heart at that moment.
They had battled without rest for several harrowing days; their mutual duel becoming an unending torment neither could break away from.
The Mistwald was vast; the battlefield Qian Ye happened upon this time was considerably distant from the one where their last encounter raged violently. Yet somehow, and perhaps not wholly unexpectedly, Aiden had emerged once again.
In his right, Aiden wielded a short blade, while dark demonic energy swirled in ghostly coils around his entire left arm, appearing much like an oval shield. Across his armor lay a pair of bullet impacts—though not penetrated, the impact still marked him sharply.
Clearly hit hard, still managing a hurried defense, Aiden withstood the initial barrages of Crimson Datura and Illusory Manjushaka and, still preparing for the possibility of melee, intended now to retaliate at close range.
The vulnerability of demonic half-breeds was a concept judged in comparison to the rest of the darker races and certainly did not extend to them falling easily in hand-to-hand confrontation against humans. Fueled by uncanny abilities and supernatural strength, many魔裔 fighters wielded fearsome skill in proximity warfare—a challenge on par with martial techniques passed down to human champions for testing formidable champions of gloom.
Aiden’s house, Obsidian Rift, had mastered the art of corrosive powers, terrifying countless armies—sometimes a single wave of malevolent Qi could bring a whole division to their knees. Furthermore, it could weaken specific manifestations of human-originated Force auras that human warriors had perfected and deployed during intense duels and war.
Aiden’s place amidst both the Obsidian Rift and Umbral Syndicate relied not merely upon a blessed heritage or native gifts alone—he wielded martial talents in long and close-quarters combat with equal finesse.
Now, struck at dangerously close distance no longer optimal for a sniper, with an initial volley proving ineffective against his barrier, he wasted little time planning circuitous maneuvers or dodging attacks. Instead, without delay, Aidel resolved to engage in brutal near-range carnage to finish an assailant swiftly.
Such reasoning was entirely sound—if not brilliant. Aiden had proven this with success previously, countlessly turning the table during close duels by annihilating at least several squads of elite human officers. His only hitch was that, this time, his opponent was Qian Ye.
Gazes locked: Qian studied Aiden’s curved dagger in hand—the expression on the魔裔’s face shifting twice, the short sword now appearing unexpectedly perilous.
It was simple. Close combat might not be an outright liability for Aiden, but standing opposite Qian Ye—clad in full heavy plating, hefting a greatsword—it might fairly be called the most severe disadvantage possible: a weakness stretched so far as to reach absurdity. They had actually only ever once engaged directly at melee: the very moment the two collided in violence at first approach, Aiden almost fell victim—narrowly escaping a two-part bisect courtesy of the blade “Dongyue” cleaving blade through both his sword… and possibly himself.
Since that fateful encounter, thereafter, he would never voluntarily cross into Qian’s personal zone again.
Right then, their positioning felt awkward—a strange stalemate between the pair.
Their glows interlocked, motionless.
A thought stirred Qian Ye’s mind as this was perhaps the clearest head-on view at arm’s reach, finally witnessing Aidel’s visage in clarity for the first time at total visual range. Initial observation—the intelligence sketch obtained at Clan Li possessed at least seventy or eighty percent resemblance. But there it was again—a pang of recognition; like deja vu returned full force, as though he’d seen the face of this魔裔 somewhere deep in some ancient dream or prior world.
Without hesitation, Aiden turned tails, darted back into the shroud. Naturally, Qian wasn’t about to relinquish such valuable a foe and took relentless pursuit hot on every footstep.
Like returning to several days prior, their endless series of conflicts resumed—their duel resumed anew.
Perhaps when two combatants stood at equal capacity in a relentless stalemate of battle, the duel itself becomes a fine grindstone—for both began, ever more keenly, honing their prowess. Every new skirmish now proved even more precarious; one misplayed move risked earning another mark from the opponent’s blade.
Though even now Aiden retained little to offer in direct melee combat against Qian Ye compared to their previous encounters; he could parry, if barely, twice or so before pulling away—those precious attempts granted vital escape chances to withdraw. The key distinction, slight, but significant in its implications. But for Qian, Aiden no longer found the advantage of his concealed stalking, previously absolute within the Umbral Anthem—the ability maintaining long firing range from total shadow now compromised, several times Aiden failed to pull the trigger before being detected by Qian, which triggered immediate return fire from his foe turning tables from predator to prey in a blink.
Days turned again with relentless cycles. Both combatants drained physically and spiritually drained beyond their own limits, energy growing weak. Utilizing colossal wood’s natural sap accelerated his force’s restorative cycle—but without proper alchemical transformation from the Dawn Codicil, only subpar absorption remained achievable.
However during this continuous cycle of unpredictable violent outbursts of battle, a mere minute dedicated to restoring internal energy became a luxury of great expense and risk.
Just about to call for a small rest interval, a sudden movement shifted Qian Ye’s attention elsewhere; Aiden appeared—no farther.
Their deadly sparring’s had developed another unique consequence over time—increasingly tighter safety margins when both locked sight onto each other—typically at distances unfavorable both for close combat… or safe sniping either.
To Qian specifically, unless the Twinblooms fully fused, Aiden’s barriers remained impervious—a process which afforded Aiden ample time to flee detection once initiated. Conversely, to Aiden—the power discharge of his carbine offered devastating effectiveness sufficient to wound—unless the shot failed to significantly penetrate armor deeply enough—he’d suffer an incoming swing, able seemingly to divide great mountains in its wake.
This latest unexpected standoff played out identically. Qian Ye had been gnipping at jerky cut, a ration supplied standard by the Empire. On Aiden’s hand stood suspended mid-gesture, one half applied vial’s worth of healing liquid still smeared upon some fresh scar. Aiden presented the more haggard look—a darkly shadowed ring beneath each eye, sunken jaws, open scrapes left unsealed leaking crimson droplets.
Their gazes remained locked. Yet no immediate motion stirred the air in challenge.
A pop of muscle, Qian spatted jerky fragments from his palate; Aiden then completed coating, gripping tightly his hip’s holstered carbine with both hands.
They stood in an eerie truce, aware.
Through countless skirmishes, familiarity bred wariness—Qian considered Aiden’s side arm far exceeding even his absurd sniper’s weapon in terms of sheer menace. For Aiden’s side—Qian presented far greater than any weapon ever could as a presence within Qian Ye, sleeping somewhere within dwelled an ancient monstrous essence, dormant yet ravenous.
Each sensed instinctively the gap shrank between them—this narrowing margin represented that every engagement now walked upon death’s razor edge—not merely strategy or technique, but a great unknown variable of the battlefield; the luck which was, after all… the least trustworthy force on a war-torn field.
For long moments, Qian considered invoking the Proto-Lance in earnest—ending conflict permanently via decisive annihilation of their shared stalemate.
However… Aiden, with unpredictable powers constantly defying predictions—especially his instant escape capabilities that verged upon supernatural, allowing nearly instantaneous spatial shifts out of danger. This uncertainty prevented confidence: Qian feared he wouldn’t find his mark.
And should Aiden slip the lance, retaliation would reverse roles instantly—a predator becoming prey in a single moment.
With thoughts unspoken and tensions high, they both began a tactical backward step, each withdrawing, disappearing respectively into the fog—silently choosing to delay a new beginning.
If no sure opening presents: delay until superior position forms anew—both hunting. Both quarry. Watching for slipups to emerge once more.
Unknowingly, their style of warfare slowly transformed during countless near-fatal contests. No longer were their clashes hinged solely upon life-risking final gambits. Patience had been honed—an interplay of probes, calculated delays… each retreating the moment any assault missed.
With survival in mutual check; even amidst the crucible of death’s doorstep, they evolved—each moment, each slight twitch of muscle in an opponent revealed a shift—their reactions swift to intercept opposing intent before it could manifest.
Like master chess adversaries endlessly probed for weaknesses—never committing to killing moves. With no opening available—nor opportunities to allow the enemy—endgame remained a stalemate after brutal hours of unending tension: fatigue drained but neither drawing fatal blood upon other.
Perhaps neither consciously noticed this side effect: how their martial abilities grew dramatically, rising into the realm of refined, artistic warcraft, bordering near the sublime.
A plan took root in Qian Ye’s mind. To terminate matters, he had considered one final method: pay whatever required price—closing near-range and delivering with Final Execution: one strike from a sword strike decided it once and for all. Yet said cost likely involved grievous injury—but still he weighed the choice, accepting all consequences.
This, however, was precisely where Ailen demonstrated his danger—such moments never presented freely. He refused to offer Qian Ye a clear chance—denying his would-be assassin a crucial moment needed.
Just as swiftly as Aiden vanished from range, Qian Ye resumed another sprint directly toward battle—the battlefield. This charge carried reckless lack of discretion. His aura was unbridled, fully exposed to an ambushing enemy: a living dart-board for someone with a powerful sniper trained toward him.
And indeed, Qian Ye expected the temptation was irresistible—that for Aiden, the call wouldn’t pass by unnoticed or unfired.
This indeed bore the hallmark of deadly temptation. Torn deep within, the decision took its final shape in Aiden’s gut. Fully aware this might be an ambush, he wouldn’t allow himself full commitment or go overboard attempting a finish blow—but inflicting injury? A chance to shift battlefield odds back in his favor? A tantalizing opportunity impossible to disregard in full.
As much as unwillingness fought within his heart, truth lingered. The balance of conflict swirled inexorably toward change—and Aidel sensed the shift. With the tides increasingly working against him—even worse when blood flowed from his wounds—and Qian’s near-superhuman defense, recovery accelerated so absurdly fast as to border the fantastical, the choice remained clear:
Retreat from war field completely—flee to recover.
Otherwise, perish in the slow, painful drain.
With a crisp gunshot’s cry, crimson blossom sprouted on Qian Ye’s flank, thrown bodily sideways a full meter despite absorbing the shot full-force from Aiden’s gun.
Yet, Qian made no motion toward escape—no sign of increasing momentum, no attempt reaching for Dongyue. The Twinblooms flickered into form—and united into one.
Rippling liquid luminescence flowed into form from palms, ethereal flowerlike reflections floating atop shimmered surfaces, elegant forms teetering along the verge of unfolding bloom into blossom.
At that moment, Aiden was engulfed by an ineffable sense of imminent death.
Before this mirage even solidified into coherent understanding of the fusion, in his vision unfolded starkly, vividly—a glimpse of the latent essence he never ceased fearing within Qian Ye itself transforming into awakened monstrous terror of ancient pre-epoch savagery, arising sleepily at long last.
Discarding all thoughts, he roared shrilly in pure instinctual fear and turned tail at full sprint, pushing every limit available.
With an eruption beyond sight, speeds shot beyond physical limitations—instantaneous displacement across hundreds of meters in mere heartbeats—an unnatural blur indiscernible from pure flight—their darkened energy trail behind creating visible wakes of tangible mist.
A ray of unseen luminance adhered to this trail’s passage like the hand of fate had reached into their flight and bound itself silently and effortlessly.
The wake passed through any obstacle. Massive trees collapsed, soil and mist alike—nothing barred this beam’s forward surge as it tore through distance, consuming every inch with the finality of destiny’s reaper: like a dark Qi tail shortened by fractions with unseen blade in perfect synchronicity.
It surged onward.
It reached the tail’s end.
The moment Aidel deviated ever subtly—a hairline misjudgment within movement—and in an instant, the radiant blade slipped past him.
Yet… it grazed.
Before, there remained a massive tree ahead…
The tree trunk, pierced with clean precision.
Aiden hadn’t fully escape the light. His arms lost their layered shielding as the armored plating upon them shattered like brittle glass—a wound tore through layers upon arm muscles blackening first, becoming white dust, evaporating before a second’s passing.
The gunshot tore away layers of muscle entirely from his upper arm—nearly half the humerus now a clean skeletal ruin.
Aiden’s screamed in outrage as Qi erupted again like a phoenix reborn—spewing out thousands of demonic silk filaments toward empty space forward, weaving into the formation of a hexagonal tunnel—a path that seemed entirely separate—bypassing entirely the obstacles blocking Aiden’s escape path—as though a new corridor from some foreign dimension materialized from nowhere in real existence. And as Aiden leapt into the gateway’s threshold, another surge tripled his already blistering speed, flinging him into a vanished blur.
Only the faint wisps of dissolving demon Qi still floating remained upon Qian Ye’s return to the scene of confrontation moments later.
“Dimensional Passage through Obsidian Realm! Curse it,” swore Qian Ye in helpless fury before slowing his stride—stopping altogether from his futile pursuit.
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