Chapter 8: Mara’s Deity
Ciro stood alone, facing down the four captains—steel and fury against overwhelming odds. His blades flickered through the air, a blur of motion as he danced between deadly strikes. Across the blood-soaked battlefield, Ael surged into the remaining forces of the Nyx Cartel like a storm given form, his martial prowess erupting in devastating flurries of motion. It was chaos, a brutal symphony of strength and desperation. The villagers, though outnumbered, fought with the precision and refinement of their martial training. The cartel, meanwhile, relied on brute numbers and bloodlust. The battlefield held no victor—only struggle.
High above, perched in the arms of a sturdy tree, Ri-hyun watched with sharp eyes.
"To think I'd witness a scene like this again," he murmured, more to himself than anyone else. "A village pouring out every last drop of strength to fend off a monster at its gates."
His gaze followed Ciro, now slowly backing toward the cliff's edge under the captains' relentless assault.
"He's going to struggle," Ri-hyun mused, eyes narrowing. "A high ground without footing is a trap for any fighter. Let's see if he has what it takes... if he's ready to master the art."
Ciro's breathing grew heavier with each parried strike. Sweat and blood clung to his skin. His footing slipped dangerously close to the cliff's edge.
"Give up, kid," sneered one of the captains, twirling his blade lazily. "Nowhere left to run. I'll end your misery."
The captain lunged, aiming for the kill. But Ciro moved—not with his blade, but with his hand. In a swift, practiced motion, he reached into his pocket and scattered a handful of pebbles across the air.
"I still have more to throw..." he gasped, voice hoarse and trembling.
He disconnected his energy from his knife, instead tethering it to the pebbles now embedded in the captains' palms. The cartel men looked at the stones in confusion.
"What is this?" one of them muttered. "A trick?"