No Cheers. No Time for Gratitude.
As the final sound from the Mutant Serpent Man faded, and blood stopped dripping from the tongue Brama had torn barehanded, the world felt... quieter than death.
Brama still sat atop the lifeless chest of his fallen foe.
Dried blood crusted his temples. His breath was heavy, slow—like an old machine forced to keep running past its limits. Each breath scraped against wounds in his lungs. Yet he didn't speak. Didn't complain. Didn't collapse.
He just stared at the sky.
> "Send the fifth wave. I'm still alive."
The wind blew—cold, but not refreshing. The air was filled with ash and fragments of spiritual energy from the dozens of creatures who had perished. Blood mist still clung to the valley stones. Iron thorns, mutant scales, and scorched bones littered the ground. And in the center of this massacre stood Brama—the lone survivor of this hellish tide.
Ruda landed beside him. Wings folded. Steam rose from his beak, though his body too showed signs of exhaustion. But one command remained: endure till the end.
> [System Online. Status: Fourth Wave Completed. Initial Detection of New Threat Incoming.]
> [Warning: Spiritual energy surge detected within 900 meters. Single source. Anomaly.]
Brama narrowed his eyes. He pulled a jagged shard of steel from his waist and gripped it tight, though the hilt was slick with blood.
> [Estimated Threat Level: Soul King, Level 5.]
One.
Not three. Not five.
Just one enemy.
But not an ordinary one.
Not ordinary flesh. Not ordinary steel.
This was the apex of the wave. The final trial.
And it came alone.
---
Arrival of the Soul King
The ground began to tremble.
Not like footsteps—but more like the earth itself taking a breath. Deep. Heavy. Tense.
Black clouds gathered—not storm clouds, but a sky saturated with pure spiritual energy. The oppressive aura made the very stones quake. Ants emerged from the ground only to die instantly. Birds fell from the sky. Mist evaporated.
And from the edge of the valley—from the shattered cliffs torn apart in earlier battles—a figure emerged.
Its steps were calm. Unhurried. Unaggressive. But each contact with the earth left a scorched footprint.
Brama watched.
And the system confirmed.
> [Identification: Unavailable.]
> [Body Composition: Organic–Mystic.]
> [Energy Pattern: Central Spiral. Spiritual Power Equivalent to Soul King Level 5.]
> [Note: Entity contains a secondary energy core. High explosion risk if killed through brute force.]
The creature stopped 100 meters from Brama.
And the world fell silent.
---
The Creature
It resembled a human—perhaps 190 cm tall, with a solid but unremarkable frame. Its skin was ashen gray, like flesh soaked in poison. Long white hair flowed unmoving, defying the breeze.
Its eyes—neither white nor black—but black holes that seemed to devour all light. It emitted no pressure. Instead, it absorbed pressure—making your chest tighten just from looking into them.
Two bone plates extended from its back, fused at the center—like stiff wings, not for flight, but for shielding its soul core. It carried no weapons. Wore no armor. Just bare flesh, marred with blackened, bloodless scars.
But its spiritual pressure... made knees tremble.
Ruda stiffened. His magma feathers flared, but he didn't strike. He knew—instinctively—this creature couldn't be harmed carelessly. This wasn't an enemy you could burn and forget.
Brama stood tall, though his collarbone cracked audibly.
> "One-on-one..."
> "I like fair fights."
The creature stepped forward again.
And the battle began.
---
Clash of Two Worlds
Brama moved.
Just one step—but every muscle screamed. Flesh tore in seven places. His wounds reopened, and his heart thudded out of rhythm—not from fear, but from blood loss.
Still, he advanced. His feet tread on soil soaked with death. His breath was labored, but steady. His gaze never wavered.
Across from him, the creature stood still. Calm. Silent. With no intention to hunt, but no hesitation to kill. That vacant stare wasn't unconsciousness—it was disregard. It didn't see Brama as something worth evaluating.
That was the real danger.
Not a raging monster—but a king who saw no need to speak.
Ruda flapped gently. He didn't take off—just vibrated his wings. The magma in his body pulsed, trying to channel energy to his master. Brama felt it—warm, flowing, though insufficient.
He tightened his grip on the jagged dagger, scavenged from the mutant serpent.
> "First strike... must land."
> [System: Caution. Entity has not shown aggressive behavior. Striking first may trigger transformation.]
> [However, failure to act may result in lethal preemptive strike.]
Brama smirked.
> "Both options suck. So we go with a third."
---
First Strike
Brama didn't wait for a cue. He inhaled sharply—then hurled himself forward, burning the last of his muscle strength.
No war cry. No threat.
Just silent speed.
The broken blade shot toward the creature's throat—sharp angle, full rotation, aided by a jump from his nearly shattered right knee. Brama embedded every ounce of momentum into the swing.
But…
The creature didn't move.
Didn't block. Didn't evade.
It simply tilted its head—by a centimeter.
The attack missed by a hair's breadth, slicing air.
And before Brama could land—
A punch struck.
BLAGH!!
The creature's right fist slammed into Brama's gut, right below the ribs. The sound wasn't just impact—it was bone shifting, organs sloshing. Brama's body flew backward, rolling across blood-soaked earth, smashing into two rocks, barely able to rise.
Ruda flapped hard, releasing a fire-pressure wave to break enemy momentum. But the creature didn't pursue. It just stood. Watching.
Brama coughed. Blood gushed from his mouth—not from outer wounds, but shredded organs.
> [System: Two ribs fractured. Liver trauma. Right lung displaced. Bodily Function: 41%.]
> [Note: This is not an opponent. This is an execution machine.]
Brama grinned, blood staining his lips.
> "Machine or not… it can still die."
---
Second Round
This time, Ruda moved.
With a sharp screech that cut the sky, Ruda dashed in from the left. Wings flared. His body a meteor of living magma. He used Ember Flap, sending a blast that forced the creature to shift right—exactly where Brama was waiting.
Despite his wounds, Brama lunged from behind a fallen boulder, spinning midair and driving the blade toward the creature's spine.
CRAAAK!!
Metal met hardened bone.
Brama felt the weapon pierce skin and hit backbone. But…
No blood.
The creature turned. Slowly. Like a normal human. But its stare had changed.
Brama's heart pounded. The air shifted. Spiritual pressure erupted from the creature—not as a blast, but like gravity. Deep. Crushing.
> [System: Combat Mode Active. Entity entering Full Phase. Now: Soul King Level 5 at Full Power.]
> [Recommendation: Avoid direct confrontation.]
> [Correction: No retreat options available.]
Brama staggered back two steps. His body barely held together. One wrong move… and he'd be torn to pieces.
The creature raised a hand.
And for the first time—spoke.
Not in human tongue. But Brama understood.
> "You are no king. You are a corpse waiting for burial."
The moment the voice echoed from the Soul King—a tongue-less, wordless voice with meaning—time itself froze.
Brama didn't reply with words.
Just a gaze that even death recognized: I'm not done yet.
He gripped the fractured dagger.
His body trembled.
But his eyes burned.
> "Ruda," he whispered. "Execute Scenario Two."
The magma bird flapped slowly, then rose diagonally.
---
First Explosion
Ruda spiraled upward, dropping four marked boulders onto four preset points in the valley. Explosions erupted—not to kill, but to create clouds of debris and obscure the battlefield.
In that storm of shattered rock, Brama moved—not to strike, but to retrieve.
Behind rubble, he found a broken spear from the Steel Bird mutant—sharp, one meter long, though bent at the tip.
The Soul King didn't chase. It stood still in the dust. Moving slowly—confident all things would come to the center eventually.
Brama circled left, then struck.
He thrust the spear into the creature's right thigh—the dominant leg.
BLAK!
The spear pierced the skin.
Blood—finally appeared. But not red. Not black. Purple. Thick. Evaporating like cursed liquid.
The creature stared at the wound.
Then...
Struck back.
A single bare-handed blow shattered Brama's shoulder. KREEEKK!! echoed in the air.
Brama tumbled. The spear fell. His arm hung useless.
But before the creature could advance—
Ruda dove down.
Striking the back of the creature's neck with a full-force Ember Flap.
BOOOM!!
The creature staggered. Shoulder injured. Back cracked. But still standing.
And now...
It was angry.
Survival Counterattack
The Soul King stepped forward—slow, methodical. No longer observing.
Now hunting.
Brama rolled to the side, barely evading a stomp that cracked the earth. The creature's foot left a crater where his chest had just been.
He coughed again. Blood pooled in his mouth, but he didn't spit it out—he swallowed it. Every drop wasted was one breath closer to death.
> [System: Vitality below 30%. Critical Condition. Muscle tear ratio: 82%.]
> [Passive Bonus Activated: Endless Survivor — Stats temporarily stabilized for 40 seconds.]
That was all he needed.
Ruda circled above, scanning for openings. But the enemy showed none.
The Soul King twisted his body unnaturally, extending his arm longer than it should be. Bones popped audibly. Tendons screamed as his limb morphed into a spiraled blade of bone and flesh.
A whip.
It lashed toward Brama—
CRACK!
Brama raised his broken left arm and caught the whip.
SNAP!
His forearm shattered completely, but it had slowed the blow just enough. He rotated his body mid-air, kicked the ground, and launched himself forward.
His right shoulder was already broken.
His left arm was crushed.
He had no working limbs left.
But he had his teeth.
CHOMP!
He bit into the Soul King's chest.
Blood spurted—a violent purple that stung his lips. Brama forced his neck to twist, ripping out a chunk of cursed flesh.
The Soul King screamed—not in pain, but in displeasure.
It grabbed Brama's torso and slammed him into the ground, over and over—once, twice, thrice—until stone cracked and blood sprayed from his ears.
Still…
He didn't let go.
He locked his legs around the creature's waist.
Then—
Ruda struck.
BOOOM!!
A direct hit to the back of the Soul King's skull using his final skill: Solar Talon, condensed into one perfect explosion of molten Qi.
The creature's head snapped forward.
Brama opened his mouth—
And screamed.
> "NOW!"
---
Brama's Last Blow
From his torn inner robe, a small crystal device emerged—etched with dozens of formation runes: a spiritual burst seal, encoded with all the energy Brama had absorbed throughout the earlier waves.
He slammed it into the Soul King's chest.
> KRRRRZZZT—SHHHHRRRRAK!!
The seal activated, drawing in surrounding spiritual mist, Ruda's remaining Qi, and even the Soul King's own leaking energy.
> [System: Fatal Chain Initialized. Target Weak Point Marked.]
> [Press palm into core in the next 5 seconds.]
Brama raised his broken right hand.
Every finger was bent the wrong way.
He gritted his teeth.
Roared like a cornered beast—
And punched.
The seal detonated.
---
KRAAAK-THOOOOOM!!
A sphere of light swallowed the valley.
It wasn't fire. Not lightning. Not Qi.
Just pure force, wrapped in a last stand.
The mountain walls shattered.
Stones flew like feathers.
Ruda was thrown back, wings torn and body bleeding from the impact. But he survived.
Brama didn't fly.
He didn't fall.
He simply—vanished.
The Soul King?
Now stood with half its body missing.
The right arm. Gone.
The left shoulder. Melted.
Its chest. Caved in.
It stumbled—then kneeled.
Its face remained blank. No pain. No fury.
Only a whisper.
> "That... was new."
Then—
Its body crumbled.
Turned to black dust.
Scattered in the wind.
---
Aftermath
Silence reigned once more.
The valley—no longer a battlefield, but a graveyard.
Of enemies. Of monsters.
Of Brama.
Only one figure remained upright.
Ruda—feathers burned, beak cracked—perched on a scorched pillar. His head swiveled left and right.
Searching.
Hoping.
Waiting.
No reply came.
Not from the system.
Not from Brama.
Until…
A soft voice echoed from the dust.
> "D-did I win...?"
From beneath a pile of bones and ash, a hand rose. Bloodied. Shaking. Alive.
Brama crawled out. Face burnt. Breathing shallow. No bones intact.
But…
> Still alive.
Ruda flapped once. Just once.
And landed beside his master.
Brama turned his head slightly.
> "Put that in the report," he whispered.
> "Soul King? Not invincible."
Then he passed out.