Eternal Malediction (RE)

Chapter 55: Chapter 27: The One Who Stands Against The World

Orrin Vale didn’t draw his weapon.

Instead, he simply closed his eyes and breathed.

A heartbeat later, prana erupted, an ocean of violent pressure tearing outward in every direction.

The air warped, the ground cracked, and the valley walls groaned while trees bent from the weight of it all.

It spread like a hurricane made of raw, uninterrupted power, forming a prismatic barrier of condensed force that split the earth beneath his feet. The sky above flickered, and even Kieran, far beyond the canyon’s mouth, felt the shock run through his spine.

He turned back toward the valley with wide eyes.

”What the hell was that...”

But Roy didn’t flinch.

He stepped forward.

On foot in front of the other, casual and unhurried. As though the storm didn’t even register to him.

The barrier shattered around him like thin glass.

Fragments of Orrin’s prana pressure broke and crumbled just from the mere presence of Roy until nothing was left but a stunned silence.

The Judicator’s eyes widened.

Roy tilted his head, as though he was slightly disappointed. ”... Was that all?”

The two subordinates didn’t wait for orders.

They burst forward at once, so fast that even seasoned warriors would have barely registered the movement. One swept from the left, halberd flashing downward. The other was already chanting, silver chains coiling from the mouth of his spellbook as the cursed verses slipped from his tongue.

Roy moved.

Not with brute speed but with surgical precision.

He stepped around the halberd, letting it carve into the ground beside him as his elbow slammed into the wielder’s chest. The halberd user skidded backward, coughing. However, a phantom afterimage blade peeled off from the first strike, continuing the swing toward Roy’s neck.

Roy ducked beneath the ghost blade and flicked two fingers out. The spectral edge cracked under the slight touch and snapped like shattered glass.

The caster finished the first stanza of his verses that sounded like psalms.

An invisible force punched through Roy’s torso like a hammer of sound, the ground beneath his feet crushing from the sonics. The Psalms began to sink into his bones, cracking them from the inside.

But Roy kept on walking forward, eyes unblinking, even as the air shook with cursed resonance.

The caster’s voice faltered as he kept reading.

Roy vanished when he looked back up.

A moment later his fist embedded itself into the man’s stomach, flinging him off his feet and into the canyon wall with enough force to crater the stone. The chant died in a wet gasp, blood spilling from his lips.

Before the body even hit the ground, the halberd came again, this time thrusting from above the two overlapping afterimages, each swing echoing a different trajectory.

Roy spun beneath it like drifting smoke.

One hand caught the realpole arm. The other cracked the phantom blades apart with a flick of his wrist.

Steel groaned, and the rune shattered.

He pulled at him and the wielder flew forward, completely off balance...

Roy’s knee crashed into his ribs like a sledgehammer.

Bones snapped audibly.

The halberd dropped.

Roy caught it with his his free hand... and drove the blade end directly into the former owner’s chest.

A burst of spectral prana flared and died.

He didn’t know what their Soul Art was, nor did he care.

The spellcaster, bloodied but barely conscious, tried to stand and open his book again. Roy was already there A single backhand strike knocked him to his knees, and a second crushed the spellbook to pieces, scattering cursed pages across the wind like dying moths.

The man looked up, trembling, not with anger... but with disbelief.

”You...”

Roy’s eyes were flat. ”Damn, what happened here?”

He kicked the caster’s chest, knocking him out clean; it was swift and merciless.

As the subordinate collapsed, Roy turned slowly toward the Judicator Commander.

Orrin still hadn’t moved. His hand rested on the hilt of his sword, but he hadn’t drawn it. His eyes were fixed on Roy with a weight that carried neither hatred nor fear. Only understanding.

”So it’s real.” He muttered to himself.

Roy didn’t respond.

”Power like yours... It should only be used for helping others.” The commander’s hand tightened on his weapon. ”It mustn’t be used to harm.”

He drew his blade.

A long breath escaped Roy’s mouth. Not weary but just simply patient.

”All right, boy,” he said. ”Let’s see.”

Orrin blurred forward.

The impact cracked the valley floor, sparks of gold and black prana exploding across stone as their blades met, one forged in celestial authority, the other simply a nameless steel that Roy drew from Kieran when extracted.

For a few moments, neither gave ground.

Orrin’s swordplay was flawless. Every strike carried the force of conviction, each movement honed by years of duty and hard work. Roy matched him with nothing but perfect distance and frightening calm, each parry executed as if he’d seen the move a hundred times before.

But the Commander wasn’t alone.

The halberd subordinate, impaled but still hanging onto his life, forced himself to stand, blood pouring from his mouth. He let out a ragged roar and hurled himself into the clash, summoning the broken fragments of his Soul Art as unstable spectral blades.

At the same time, the barely conscious caster raised his tattered book and let loose the final stanza of his psalms, sacrificing his own life to fuel the curse one last time.

Both attacks converged on Roy at once. It was brutal, reckless and suicidal.

He stepped forward, through Orrin’s guard, and slammed the hilt of his blade into the Commander’s chest, sending him flying backward just as the two subordinates crashed into Roy’s position.

The valley lit up in a storm.

Dust swallowed everything, making it hard to see.

Orrin skidded backward with his sword in the ground and on one knee.

He pushed himself up and looked at Roy.

Roy stood alone in the cloud of settling dust.

The subordinates lay crumpled at his feet, burnt out and partially lifeless; they tried to sacrifice themselves to buy him a chance to escape.

And Orrin understood immediately.

His eyes narrowed... then softened.

”Very well,” he murmured. ”Another day, then.”

He raised his hand; a silver extraction seal burst open behind him. The commander stepped through, his coat fluttering in the wind, never taking his eyes off Roy even as the portal swallowed him.

Roy didn’t chase.

He simply watched, expression steady, calm, unshaken. Until the portal closed and the Judicator Commander vanished into light.

Only then did he turn away... and begin his long walk back to the shadows.