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Prologue 18: The Chosen of the God of Thunder

  Zorig stood an imposing two and a half meters tall; combined with his muscur body, He was a terrifying sight to anyone who faced him.

  Even Midas, whose height reached over two meters, looked small compared to the brutal warrior.

  One might think that, since both were massively built, they would move like slow giants in battle; however, that was far from the truth. Despite his colossal size, Zorig moved with astonishing agility for a warrior of his bulk. Watching the giant swing his massive mace was a chilling spectacle.

  However, even if he was a warrior with a body blessed for close combat, the fight unfolded differently from what one would expect from someone who surpassed his opponent by an entire rank and also had an overwhelming physical advantage.

  “Hegemon Style.”

  I approached the monster and attacked with my sword, striking first.

  I let the lightning energy flow along my bde, making my attacks far deadlier as they were infused with magic.

  –Ssh!–

  The strike was aimed at his hands, which held the colossal mace. Thunder echoed at the moment of impact, followed by the crackling of lightning as my sword cut into his flesh.

  The force of the csh threw his arms backward, yet they remained attached to his body.

  I would not waste the opening I had just created and directed my sword at his chest, piercing through it.

  Zorig tried to retaliate with a vertical strike of his mace.

  Seeing his intent, I pushed my body forward, driving my sword even deeper into his chest.

  By getting so close, he lost his great attack range, but the owl-man quickly tried to crush me under his arms in a deadly embrace.

  I leaped back swiftly using Lightning Step, then attacked again.

  That was the essence of the Hegemon Style my father had taught me: to exploit every opening and strike lethally, holding nothing back.

  And I carried out his teachings to perfection, for I was already close once again — but realizing he was outmatched in close combat, Zorig took distance, unleashing a fierce gust of wind to stop my rapid advance.

  The spell collided with my lightning and was canceled out; my armor absorbed the remaining force of the attack aimed at me.

  “Good to know it’s serving its purpose… all that polishing paid off.”

  My armor was a legendary-ranked item, capable of nullifying magic—the shinier and more polished it was, the stronger the effect.

  And I had made sure that today, his golden armor shone brighter than ever.

  He continued his relentless advance, closing in on the owl with every step.

  He was almost within reach of the creature’s back when, in an instant, it turned and swung its mace, aiming for a surprise attack. But even a surprise strike was slow to one who mastered lightning.

  “This speed is trivial to me.”

  I cut my opponent in half, and my sword tore through flesh and armor as if they were paper. But just as I reached the center, my bde got stuck inside his body.

  I pulled quickly, but it wouldn’t come out. At that moment of weakness, a fist rger than my head came flying toward me.

  A hit like that would’ve meant unconsciousness—or worse.

  My body was built for speed and devastation, not endurance.

  I abandoned my sword, using Lightning Step to move backward, and by the time the owl’s punch finished its swing, I was already in front of him again.

  My enemy was about to experience the full power of the boxing style practiced in the Empire of Thunder.

  My fists filled with lightning, and I attacked, knowing I couldn’t aim for the usual weak points of the living. Instead, I focused on dealing as much damage as possible.

  “You don’t want to let go of my sword? Fine, you can keep it.”

  I struck the sword still embedded in his chest. The lightning coursed from my fist through the bde, spreading across Zorig’s body.

  The lightning burst through the bde, bsting open his chest, but that wouldn’t stop a being made entirely of ether. No matter how much his body was destroyed, it was merely a shell holding the will of the Void.

  Still, the relentless storm of lightning punches did not cease. Blow after blow rained upon Zorig’s body. Each time he tried to move his arms, another punch nded, preventing him from recovering. His body was wrecked with countless wounds; his armor was nothing but dust and deep dents.

  Finally, Zorig dropped his mace and attempted to nd a direct punch to my face.

  I tilted my neck slightly, and a powerful left hook struck the fmes on his head, extinguishing them momentarily, only for them to ignite again.

  Zorig tried to kick with his massive owl talons, but I blocked by raising my knee. However, that was a mistake; the kick was far stronger than I expected, throwing me off bance.

  Then a punch came, unching me backward. Fortunately, it hit my armor, sparing me from serious damage.

  “A warrior is still a warrior... I shouldn’t have competed with him in strength.”

  I had gotten overconfident, and that had cost me the initiative, breaking my momentum.

  Zorig picked up his massive mace again, and I used Lightning Step to rush toward my sword.

  We stared at each other for a moment, and then Zorig spoke:

  “Living being, don’t you realize you’re all dead? Even if you destroy this shell, then what? I’ll return in another form, no matter what you do.”

  “You speak arrogantly for someone who just took a one-sided beating.”

  “All you do is meaningless. You have nothing left. Your friends are dying slowly while you bask in an insignificant victory. Everything you’ve done, everything you’ve fought for—it’s useless. It means nothing.”

  The light in my eyes dimmed slightly. It was true, Ariel had predicted it. We were all doomed to die. But hearing him say it, in Zorig’s body, angered me. I would never admit that everything was meaningless before the enemy.

  “You say everything is meaningless, Herald of the Void... but don’t you realize?”

  The owl looked at me with its stupid, expressionless face.

  “What?”

  “What we’ve done means more than you think. Yes, my friends have died or been wounded because of you, but...”

  I moved swiftly, honoring my title as the Blessed of the God of Thunder.

  I darted across the battlefield as Zorig tried to follow me with his eyes.

  “Each of them took a small step to defeat you, Herald of the Void.”

  I attacked with all my strength. Zorig defended himself with the handle of his mace.

  “Those chained wings that’s Michael’s doing, isn’t it? He gave his life to make sure you could never fly again using that body.”

  I turned and slid my sword along one of his legs, deeply cutting into his thigh.

  “The earth in your legs must be the work of Arthur and Hernán, right? Even two Archon-ranked mages gave their all—one even gave his life to slow you down.”

  “AAAAAAAHHHHHHH!”

  Zorig screamed with his remaining strength, trying to strike one st time with his mace.

  But just because he screamed wouldn’t change the outcome. I rushed in and ducked, moving out of his attack range, then sshed along the same line Victoria had cut before.

  “This must be Victoria’s work. A good cut, not bad at all.”

  Zorig kept trying to attack, but I had already moved away, preparing my st strike.

  “And that poison flowing through your blood, weakening you more and more, that's the work of the human soldiers from Michael’s legion. To think your downfall would come thanks to the weakest among the living beings you despise so much.”

  Zorig gred at me with pure hatred.

  “A pile of filthy creatures, nothing but the scum of the universe! They deserve to die, to be sughtered! Even if you all perished, it wouldn’t be enough to atone for your sins!”

  Midas stopped running across the battlefield. He wanted to look the creature in the eyes as he said what came next.

  “Maybe you’re right, maybe we are disgusting beings who deserve to die. But I want you to remember this forever: thanks to those ‘repugnant beings,’ today you were nothing more than the helpless prey of the Chosen of the God of Thunder.”

  For the first time in the entire battle, Zorig’s eyes widened, and he lost his composure.

  But he had no time for anything else. I moved at my maximum speed, and my sword sliced through the only side of Zorig’s body that was still half-intact, finally cutting the owl-man completely in two.

  His body fell lifeless to the ground, his eternal expression unreadable.

  Perhaps surprise? Perhaps indignation? Or maybe disbelief?

  “Maybe this was the first time anyone ever called him powerless, huh?”

  I looked away from the severed corpse and turned toward where Eithne and Victoria were waiting.

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