Chapter 48: One Punch
The moment the battlefield had settled into that tense and fragile calm, something changed in the air above them.
At first, it was only a faint distortion.
The sky, which had been clear and vast just moments ago, began to ripple as though an unseen force was pressing against it from the other side, the blue expanse bending inward as if it had suddenly become soft, as if reality itself had started to lose its firmness.
Clay lifted his head.
Borzoi did the same.
Cerys’ eyes narrowed slightly.
The Captain of the White Knights felt his heart skip a beat as he instinctively tightened his grip on his weapon, his instincts screaming at him that whatever was about to happen would not be something they could easily handle.
"What... is that..."
One of the archers whispered from above the walls, his voice trembling as he stared at the sky, his fingers loosening on the bowstring without him realizing it.
The distortion grew larger.
The air began to hum.
A deep, resonating sound spread across the battlefield, low at first, almost like a distant echo, but it quickly grew louder, more intense, vibrating through the ground, through their bodies, through their very bones.
Crack.
A thin line appeared in the sky.
Then another.
And another.
The lines spread outward like fractures on glass, jagged and uneven, glowing faintly with an unnatural light that pulsed slowly, as though something alive was pushing from the other side, trying to break through.
The soldiers stared.
The archers leaned forward.
The Captain’s breath grew heavier.
"This... this is not normal..."
The cracks widened.
The sky split open.
A massive tear formed above them, stretching wide, revealing a dark void beyond, a place where no light existed, a place that felt cold, ancient, and terrifying.
The wind changed.
It no longer flowed naturally.
It twisted.
It spiraled.
It rushed toward the crack as if being pulled into it, carrying dust, debris, and even the faint scent of blood into that opening.
The pressure increased.
Some of the weaker soldiers dropped to one knee, their bodies trembling as they struggled to remain upright under the overwhelming presence that now filled the battlefield.
"What... what is coming out of there..."
The Captain muttered, his voice barely steady.
Borzoi’s eyes widened.
His breath caught.
"Shaman..."
His voice came out in a whisper.
Then his expression changed.
Fear. Real fear.
"Don’t tell me..."
His fists clenched tightly.
"They saw it..."
His entire body stiffened.
They saw me... they saw me kneel... they saw me swear...
Shame flooded his face.
His head lowered slightly.
I... I let them see me like this...
The crack in the sky suddenly pulsed.
Then—
Something moved inside.
A silhouette.
A figure.
It stepped forward.
The moment it emerged from the darkness, the pressure in the air spiked even higher, the ground trembling violently as the figure fell from the sky like a meteor.
Swoosh!
Boom!
The figure crashed into the ground, sending dust and debris flying in all directions, a shockwave rippling outward as cracks spread across the earth beneath the impact point, forcing the soldiers to stagger back as they struggled to maintain their footing.
Silence followed.
The dust lingered.
Slowly, it began to settle.
A shape appeared within it.
Tall.
Broad.
Wrapped in tribal clothing.
The same as Borzoi.
Borzoi’s eyes widened even more.
"B-Borv..."
The name slipped out of his mouth without him realizing it.
The figure stepped forward, emerging fully from the dust, his body radiating a presence that felt heavier, more oppressive, more dangerous than Borzoi’s, his gaze sharp as it swept across the battlefield before finally landing on Borzoi.
He frowned.
"Your left..."
His voice was deep.
Cold.
Borzoi swallowed.
Then nodded.
"I lost."
There was no excuse.
No attempt to hide.
"I am enslaved now."
For a moment, everything froze.
Borv’s eyes widened.
Then—
His face twisted in anger.
"Enslaved?!"
His voice exploded like thunder.
"Who dares to do that to a Bersuka warrior?!"
The ground beneath his feet cracked slightly as his aura surged, his skin beginning to darken, a deep red color spreading across his body as his rage rose.
Borzoi slowly lifted his remaining hand.
Then pointed.
At Clay.
Borv’s gaze followed.
It landed on Clay.
He stared.
Then laughed.
"That guy?"
His tone was filled with disbelief.
"That weak little thing?"
Borzoi spoke again, his voice steady despite the humiliation he carried.
"Master..."
The word felt heavy.
But he still said it.
"This is Borv."
He turned slightly, presenting Clay with a formal introduction despite the situation, his pride forcing him to maintain dignity even in defeat.
"He is one of the most promising talent among our generation."
His voice grew firmer.
"He has crushed entire battlefields alone... defeated warriors from other tribes without effort... survived trials that would kill dozens of others... and his control over his body and power far surpasses mine."
He paused.
Then added.
"He is stronger than me in every aspect."
Borzoi looked at Clay.
"Master... he may be enough to contend against you."
Borv’s eyes narrowed.
"Master?"
He repeated the word slowly.
Then looked back at Clay.
"You’re telling me... this guy..."
His aura surged again.
"Defeated you?"
His skin turned red.
Completely red.
Berserk Mode on.
The ground beneath him trembled.
"I’ll kill him."
He stepped forward.
His muscles tightened.
His fist clenched.
The air around him distorted as his power gathered, as if the space itself could not withstand the pressure he was releasing.
The soldiers felt it immediately.
Their breathing became difficult.
Their vision blurred slightly.
This... this is far worse than Borzoi...
The Captain gritted his teeth.
We... we can’t fight this...
But before Borv could take another step—
Clay disappeared from his spot.
No one saw how.
No one saw when.
No one saw where.
One moment he was standing where he had been.
The next—
He was in front of Borv.
Right in front of him.
Borv’s eyes widened.
What—
Before he could finish the thought—
Something hit him.
It was not flashy.
There was no explosion.
No light.
No grand display.
Just a single motion.
A simple strike.
But the moment it connected—
Borv felt something he had never felt before.
A tremor.
It started from his stomach.
Then spread.
Rapidly.
Violently.
His entire body froze.
His eyes went wide.
The red color that had covered his skin began to fade.
From red...
To normal.
His strength...
Disappeared.
His aura...
Collapsed.
His vision blurred.
"Wha..."
His voice failed.
His knees weakened.
His body swayed.
And then—
His eyes rolled back.
His entire body went limp.
He fell.
Thud.
The ground shook lightly as his body hit it, completely unconscious.
Silence.
Absolute silence.
The soldiers stared.
The archers froze.
The Captain’s mouth slowly opened.
He... he dropped him... with one move...
Borzoi stood there.
Frozen.
His mind blank.
Borv... lost...? In his berserk form?
Far away, the Bersuka Warchief’s eyes widened to their absolute limit, his entire body going rigid as he stared at the projection, his breath stopping completely as disbelief consumed him.
"He..."
His voice trembled.
"He knocked him out...?"
Back at the battlefield, Clay straightened his posture slowly, as if what he had just done required no effort at all, his expression calm, almost bored.
He glanced down at Borv’s unconscious body.
Then spoke.
"Is that all?"