The Demon General's sprint was a predatory displacement, tearing the air as he closed the vast distance in two savage heartbeats. As he advanced, he released his aura—a colossal, ancient pressure that suffocated the spirit and instantly crushed the will. It was less a feeling and more a physical violation; the pressure of ten thousand deaths bearing down. Mana reserves across our unit did not just dip; they flickered, dangerously close to failure.
We held only due to Prina Riverheart and Arina's rapid Body Enhancement Spells. My own body was a shell of rigid control, transforming the deep-seated, paralyzing fear of losing Mira and Eron into cold, precise fuel.
"Mages! All of you! Range attack—now!" I screamed, the sound dry and abrasive in my throat.
They formed a circle. Water bullets, searing fireballs, earth lances—a torrent of A-rank power struck the General's barrier and dissolved into meaningless heat. Only Serin's strike, a needle of solidified shadow, managed to etch a single, thin, infuriating crack.
"Flood technique! Converge!" I pulled the volatile mana from Kaviray, Tornay, Selindra, Mirayen, and Qing Hanyue. We instantly conjured and ignited a colossal flash flood. The General simply walked through the raging inferno, his armor unblemished, his expression a study in chilling contempt. The fire swords of Ravia, Mei Shuren, Wang Tianshu, Rodak Embern, and my own blade struck the same impenetrable wall.
We had failed the test of fire.
Serin bought us a precious moment, her own face pale with strain. She unleashed 'Eternal Darkness Bloom,' a vast dome of shadow that momentarily masked the field, a curtain drawn over our looming destruction. While concealed, Azeir, Bao Zen, and Hua Lixia frantically conjured intricate rock sculptures, filling the darkness with false targets.
"Fire Tornado, again," I ordered, my voice hollowed out.
We conjured the massive vortex. He cut the tornado in half with a single, massive sweep of his axe, the sheer force scattering the flames and instantly dissolving our cover.
We signaled our final tactical strike: the Copper Meteorite. The colossal, solidified earth orb slammed into him. The light flared violently. When it subsided, the General stood, shield intact. He was unscathed, save for the very tip of his little finger, which was missing.
A small, insignificant cost for his survival.
"Base camp! Hyper Cannon Bullet!" I signaled. The General sidestepped the blinding beam as if it were a casual gust of air.
Fear, tension, and despair became a crushing, tangible weight, magnified by the cold reality that the entire, humiliating failure was being broadcast live, worldwide.
Serin's voice, tight with focused agony, cut through the noise. "I'm casting a powerful spell. Protect me!"
We launched a chaotic assault. Serin's spell was ready. With a roar that shook the very foundations of the ruins, a Black Dragon of pure shadow erupted from her core. It slammed into the General, shattering his shield and sending his great axe skipping away.
I followed up with a desperate measure. I focused the fire element, shaping them into a volatile creature. "Attack!" It was the first time I was performing I without guide of siren
My fire-dragon struck. The General, exposed, raised his armored hands. He let out a deep, guttural roar of agony as cracks spiderwebbed across his limbs.
"So, my turn," he hissed, his crimson eyes blazing with lethal purpose.
His speed became instantaneous, his attacks faster, more precise, and utterly inevitable. Serin and I were pressed back to back, a final, fragile unit desperately blocking.
Serin shielded Tanisha Veer, taking a defensive posture against a massive land spike.
The attack intensified. The General fired little iron needles propelled by terrifying velocity. You Milien and Arina threw up a barrier, but ten of our soldiers fell bleeding—the needles punching through the defense like paper.
The Masked Guy and I began a frantic, close-quarters block. I needed more. The crushing burden of protection—the core fear—demanded a final surge.
I forced open the connection to the destructive power within me, allowing the raw, potent Black Flames to erupt from my core. The fire was not heat; it was cold, pure despair given form.
The General froze, a flicker of genuine shock crossing his features. "The Flame of Hell? The one erupted by despair?"
I gave no answer. I maintained the cold, controlled rhythm. He instantly recovered, casting a Barrier Magic that slammed my entire squad back, clearing the field. Now, only he and I stood in the smoking ruins.
The General changed. He shed the monstrous form, taking the shape of a youth—a sleek teenager with long black hair, burning crimson eyes, and armor made of hardened demon skin. He wielded two daggers. I had only my single sword.
Our speeds were identical. We were a destructive rhythm of focused rage. I shouted, "Water Bullet!" He dodged them with an effortless backflip.
An opening. I lunged for his neck.
He blocked with one dagger, then used the momentum to drive the other in a forward slash. The blow struck my mask. The force snapped the straps. The mask clattered to the ground, and my face was revealed.
The shame of sudden, worldwide exposure hit, yet beneath it was the cold rage. I tried to shield my face.
The General, seeing my face, smiled. "There is no shame, Soldier. You have a beautiful face, and you are fighting well. Why the embarrassment?"
I was convinced, but I was distracted. Before I could re-center, he was there. He closed the final distance with terrifying speed, the tip of his dagger pressed lightly against my exposed jugular. My pain suppression was absolute; my face showed no flinch, only cold defiance.
"Any last wish?" he whispered.