Chapter 39: Flesh
The battlefield was scorched, the ground littered with craters, and the stench of burnt stone thick in the air. Every breath Dune took felt like swallowing fire. His chest heaved, sweat and blood dripping down his battered body.
Another explosion ripped through the ground.
He barely reacted in time. A Neba platform burst beneath his foot, hurling him sideways just as the blast swallowed the spot where he had been standing. The shockwave still caught his back, sending him tumbling through the air.
Nate was already there. Wreathed in emerald green Neba, his twin axes glowed with eerie light. His grin was sharp, his eyes filled with the thrill of the hunt.
"Tired already?" he taunted, twirling one of his axes.
Dune didn't answer. He couldn't afford to. Nate wasn't just strong, he was relentless. Every explosion sent shockwaves through the air, making it harder for Dune to find stable footing. Even using Nebastep, he was barely keeping up.
Nate lunged, his axe tearing through the air in a brutal arc. Dune dodged, barely. A Neba platform erupted beneath him, detonating to blast him sideways. His foot barely touched the ground before another explosion struck, the force ripping through his body and sending him crashing to the dirt. He skidded violently, rolling over sharp rocks before slamming into jagged stone. Pain shot through his ribs, his bones rattling from the impact.
A boot slammed into his ribs, lifting him off the ground before sending him tumbling again.
Dune coughed, blood dripping from his lips. His vision blurred, *how? How was Nate still alive? How the hell did he survive back then?*
Nate didn't stop. He closed the distance, his axe raised high. "Wolves won't save you now," he growled. Dune's pulse pounded as suddenly the message echoed in his mind.
[ There are only a hundred Zetens left. ]