Chapter 164 166: Alix Vs. Lathar

Outside, in the clearing behind the base, the trees fall away into a wide, open ring of scorched earth and stone—clearly used often for combat. Scars from previous fights cut deep into the dirt: impact craters, melted grooves, claw marks, and bloodstains long since dried. A crowd is already gathering, drawn by word of the challenge. Dozens of Ember Claw members form a loose circle around the clearing's edge—beasts, mutants, chimeras, and more monstrous things cloaked in shadow and mist. Many tower over Alix, others crouch low with twitching limbs, some hiss softly with anticipation. "He's going to fight the commander?" a scaled brute mutters, blinking wide amber eyes. "No way he survives," a stitched-together abomination chuckles. "Lathar doesn't hold back." "Still..." says a feathered creature with glowing orbs for eyes, "Gotta give him credit. Takes guts to stand up to a peak Tier 5." One of the winged scouts leans down from her perch on a skeletal pillar, murmuring, "Either he's insane... or he's really a real deal." A thin-limbed wraith near the front smirks, smoke curling from its shoulders. "I hope he lasts longer than the last idiot who tried. That guy didn't even last fifteen seconds." The original trio—reptilian, feline, and insectoid—stand off to the side, nursing their injuries, eyes fixed on the center. Lathar steps into the center of the clearing. His obsidian armor glints under the pale red glow, and the ground subtly cracks beneath each of his slow, deliberate strides. He stretches his neck with a pop, then rolls his shoulders as faint, flickering strands of crimson energy rise around him like coiled fire. "I won't kill you," he says, tone even, "but don't expect me to play nice either." Alix steps into the circle across from him, calm, relaxed. "You don't have to hold back," he says. "I'd be insulted if you did." More murmurs ripple through the crowd. "Damn," someone breathes, grinning. "This guy's really not scared." A dozen monsters focus their gazes, mana gathering faintly in case the fight gets out of hand. Lathar's smile is gone now. His stance lowers, sharp and precise, fingers flexing once like talons. Alix takes one step forward, then another—measured, quiet, calm. With a flick of his wrist, his sword materializes into his hand: sleek, dark metal edged in a faint shimmer of power. It's a Tier 5 weapon—sharp, responsive, balanced perfectly to him. He could've used the Tier 6 blade in his inventory... but what's the point of swinging a sword you can't wield properly? This one will do just fine. The air around him stills, and then—so subtly it barely registers—his aura shifts. He doesn't shout incantations. There's no dramatic gesture or glowing glyphs. Just a breath, a blink— —and five buff skills stack silently across his body. Speed. Reflexes. Precision. Durability. Strength. Lathar's eyes narrow the instant he senses it. Not clearly—just a flicker, a wrongness in the rhythm of the air. (...Did he just...?) His mind clicks into high alert. That wasn't just one skill. He watches Alix closely, jaw tight behind his helm. The flow of mana isn't loud or sloppy—it's razor-tight, folded in on itself, like a seal forged to suppress even the trace of presence. Most of the crowd doesn't notice a thing. They just see a guy holding a sword. But Lathar? He feels it. One buff skill is manageable. Two is impressive. Three is dangerous. But five—possibly more—and all cast silently, without a single chant or tell? He squares his stance, eyes sharp now. Serious. "Heh..." he mutters under his breath, just loud enough for Alix to hear. "Five buff skills. Maybe more. You hiding a sixth one too, or are you just showing off?" Alix tilts his head slightly. "You counted?" "I guessed." Lathar exhales slowly, drawing power into his limbs, armor humming in response. "...I just felt a chill, that's all," he says. "Been a long time since someone gave me that." He cracks his knuckles, the energy around him coiling tighter, heavier. "This is gonna be interesting." A heartbeat passes. Then Lathar moves. No warning, no callout—just a blur of motion as he surges forward, water coalescing around his right arm. It twists mid-air, hardening into a spiral lance of deep blue mana that pulses with chilling pressure. "Tier 4 Skill — Torrent Fang!" The ground beneath his feet fractures as he explodes off it, thrusting the lance toward Alix with precise, overwhelming force. A roaring burst of compressed water tears through the air like a jet engine, sharp enough to pierce enchanted steel. But Alix is already moving. His body shifts to the side fluidly—not dodging, meeting the blow. Mana flares around his blade as he slashes upward in a swift arc, coated in flickering orange light that radiates intense heat. "Tier 4 Skill — Flame Rend." Steel meets water. A thunderous crack erupts as the two elements collide—fire hissing violently against Lathar's spiraling lance, the impact erupting in a blinding flash of steam and flame. The shockwave detonates outward, hurling dust and debris into the watching crowd. Several monsters stumble back, shielding their faces. A few lose their footing entirely. "Shit—!" "Back up! Back up!" The ground groans and splits beneath the clash. The air warps from the pressure. For a moment, it seems even. But then Lathar grits his teeth—his lance faltering, cracking apart from the center. Alix's blade doesn't just cut—it devours the opposing skill, heat roaring up the length of the water construct and disintegrating it from the inside. With a sharp twist of his wrist, Alix snaps the remnants of the skill apart and steps in close, his blade coming within inches of Lathar's chest before the commander leaps back, boots skidding hard across the stone. Silence ripples through the clearing. Lathar glances at his gauntlet—scorched. His arm trembles slightly from the force of the rebound. "...You overpowered my Tier 4 skill," he says, voice low, more surprised than angry. Alix lowers his blade just a fraction, face unreadable. "You gave me an opening." "You met water with fire. You should've been overrun." Alix shrugs. "Fire's just what I felt like using." A flicker of surprise crosses Lathar's eye. "...You can use more than one elements?" "I can," Alix answers simply. Another stir spreads through the crowd. "Did he just—?" "No wonder he's cocky..." Lathar rolls his shoulders, the armor creaking slightly as mana flows faster now beneath his skin. "...Then I'll stop holding back," he says, his tone finally darkening. The moment Lathar speaks those words—"I'll stop holding back"—the temperature plummets. The air thickens with moisture. Mana condenses so sharply it hums, like vibrating glass. The sky above the clearing darkens, clouds swirling unnaturally fast, pulled by the raw gravitational force of magic gathering around Lathar. "Tier 5 Skill — Abyssal Flood." Water surges out from beneath his boots, not from the ground, but seemingly from nowhere—a rising wall of black-blue liquid that moves with impossible force. It churns like a living tide, arcs of lightning crackling faintly across its surface. The watching monsters fall silent. Then the wave crashes down. Not toward Alix—but over everything. It devours half the clearing in one violent sweep, uprooting earth, flattening the terrain. Trees at the edge of the ring bend and snap, soaked instantly. Rocks are launched like missiles. The entire base behind them shudders. The feline—still bandaged—chokes on his breath. "Does the commander want to destroy the base?!" A reptilian near him snarls. "That's not sparring! That's war!" Above them, winged scouts dive for cover. Others scramble away from the circle's edge, shielding their heads. But in the heart of the flood—a flash of gold. Alix stands at its center, utterly still. The water should've swallowed him whole. Instead— "Tier 5 Skill — Earthen Vault." The ground beneath his feet erupts upward, massive slabs of stone forming a rotating shield that splits the incoming tide. Water slams into the barrier, but the rock holds firm—reinforced by a second ripple of elemental energy that pulses outward from Alix's feet. "Tier 5 — Lightning Bind." A high-pitched crack pierces the sky as lightning rips through the remaining water, splitting it like a jagged scar across the battlefield. The deluge collapses into vapor, and the swirling torrent loses form—shattered by precision, counter-element, and sheer will. At the edge of the field, the three Tier 5 monsters instantly react. "Barrier—now!" snarls the horned, four-armed brute. A shimmering dome of force snaps into place around the two fighters, cutting them off from the crowd. Arcane sigils spiral outward, carving glowing lines across the boundary. The air inside compresses, locking their powers in place. "Contain them," the insectoid mutters, clicking his mandibles. "If either of them unleashes another Tier 5 skill, we'll lose half the base." Within the dome, the storm settles. Alix stands tall amidst the mist and fractured ground, lightning still arcing faintly around his arms. His gaze fixes on Lathar—who now breathes hard, one knee bent slightly to brace against the recoil of his last attack. His armor is scorched in patches. Cracks web across his right pauldron. His hands tighten into fists—but he doesn't rush. He watches. Judging. Then— Alix exhales slowly. "...Let's end this right now," he says calmly. Lathar's spine stiffens at the tone—not angry, not taunting. Just final. Then—without warning—Alix vanishes. No flare of mana. No chant. Just gone. Flash-step. Alix reappears ten meters away, his back to the mist. Three distinct ripples of pressure flare in the air around him. He isn't attacking. Not yet. Instead—he lifts his hand. And conjures. Not with a flourish, not with an incantation. Just will. Mana parts the air like blades, and three glowing skill sigils emerge—hovering behind him like looming constellations.