Chapter 147: The Avenger

Chapter 146

"This guy... he’s a monster," the red-armored man gasped, staggering beside his partner, blood dripping from beneath his cracked helmet. Despite the suit’s advanced defense mechanisms, he was severely wounded—barely standing.

His partner, a woman with a sharp, stern gaze, was clad in the same red vanguard armor. But even she couldn’t hide the flicker of fear in her eyes.

They had come as a trio. When they spotted a lone hero separated from the others, they saw an opportunity for an easy kill. Isolate, overwhelm, eliminate—simple in theory. But things hadn’t gone as planned.

No one had warned them that the "lone hero" they ambushed was him.

Ronan stood silently atop the ruins of a collapsed building, purple eyes glowing faintly in the shadows. His expression was blank, unreadable, as he gazed down at the two remaining Red Vanguard.

He was bored.

This group was better armed than the ones who had attacked Serenya, but not nearly as skilled. Once Ronan had begun fighting seriously, they were pushed back with ease. Within minutes, one was dead, and the remaining two suffered injuries that bordered on fatal.

"Only the Dark Emissaries... or Lord Ferris himself can fight him," the man muttered in panic, trembling. His fear was not unfounded—Ronan had tortured him worse than his female partner. The pain still echoed through every nerve in his body.

The woman said nothing. She knew he was right, but she also understood: Ronan wasn’t going to let them walk away.

And then, Ronan moved.



With a single step, he leapt down from the ruined structure. The duo panicked. But turning their backs would mean instant death—so they charged.

The woman struck first, her long staff transforming as deadly thorns extended along its shaft, aiming to impale. She swung hard.

But she hit nothing—only stone.

Ronan had vanished.

"Nailo!" she shouted.

The man quickly activated a barrier around them, a protective dome of crackling red energy. But it was futile.

With a slash so fast it was almost invisible, Ronan’s blade shattered the barrier like glass. The woman reacted instantly, attacking again. But Ronan, calm and fluid, parried effortlessly with one sword—then delivered a vicious kick that drove the man flying backward.

In the same motion, Ronan’s second blade pierced the woman’s neck.

It was over before she could even react.

Her head dropped from her shoulders. Her body collapsed to the floor with a lifeless thud.

She was dead.

The final Red Vanguard member—Nailo—had just managed to rise when he witnessed the grisly end of his partner. Shock and despair overtook him.

They had come to cause destruction.

They had met their end instead.

Ronan approached him, steps silent, expression unreadable. The man dropped to his knees, weapon falling from his hands. He was done. This wasn’t a fight—this was a slaughter.

Ronan stopped just a meter away, staring down at him.

"Any last prayers?" Ronan asked bluntly.

The man looked up, confused. "Aren’t... aren’t you supposed to capture me? Judge me? That’s what heroes do... right?"

Ronan could already guess what was going through his mind. So he made it clear.

"I’m not a hero," he said coldly. "I’m an avenger."

With one swift motion, Ronan severed the man’s head.

The body dropped forward, lifeless. Blood pooled beneath it.

Ronan stood there, unmoving, staring down at the corpse for a long moment. His mind drifted—to Sam’s grave. To the promise he had made.

He would fulfill that oath.

And the rest of the organization... would follow.

Elsewhere in the City...

"This is getting out of hand," one of the many weary heroes muttered, breathing heavily. His armor was dented, bloodied, and marked with several cuts, but the wounds weren’t the main concern anymore. The real problem was far worse.

They were all running out of energy.

And the monsters just kept coming.

Explosions thundered through the streets. The central part of the city was barely recognizable—reduced to ruins, smoke, and ash. Dozens of heroes had already fallen, sacrificing their lives to hold the line. And yet, the horde of beasts seemed endless.

That was because many separate portal breaches had erupted in different locations, all near the heart of the city. The influx of monsters was massive—relentless. While the number of heroes continued to dwindle, the enemy seemed to multiply.

It felt hopeless.

And then, streaks of silver tore through the sky like bolts of lightning.

In a flash, countless monsters were obliterated, vaporized by blinding silver energy. The heroes barely had time to react before another wave of destruction ripped through the enemy ranks—as if an invisible force was rampaging among the beasts.

In mere seconds, a massive portion of the horde had been wiped out.

Then, a small creature, barely the size of a child, landed in front of the astonished heroes. As he landed, his body rapidly expanded, growing to the size of an average human. His eyes narrowed as he glared toward the sky.

"You should really watch where you’re shooting, Silver," he called out, mildly annoyed.

High above, a figure hovered in the air—cloaked in metallic wings that shimmered like moonlight.

Silver simply shrugged. "You should watch where you’re flying," he replied casually. Then, with a flick of his shoulders, the wings split apart and transformed into twin blades.

He dove.

In the blink of an eye, he cleaved through the battlefield, slicing down beasts like they were paper. Activating one of his signature abilities—Wing Clone—two duplicates burst into existence beside him. Now three Silver Wings were cutting a bloody path through the horde, moving in perfect sync, unstoppable.

The small warrior below—nicknamed Little One by those who knew him—watched with a rare smile.

He held back when we fought in the arena... he’s gotten stronger.

But Little One had grown too.

A radiant green light enveloped his body as he shrank down again—but this time, his movements became a blur. His speed and lethality had nearly tripled. Beasts began falling by the dozens under his assault, his strikes precise, fluid, and impossibly fast.

The remaining heroes could only stare in awe.

Many of them were A-rankers, seasoned veterans—and yet, the power gap between them and these two warriors was unfathomable.

Before they could fully process the sight, they felt something... strange.



Their energy—what little they had left—was returning. Rapidly.

"What... what’s happening?" one of them gasped.

The answer came quickly.

A calm voice rang out from behind the line. "Don’t worry about your energy. We’ll handle support. Just keep fighting!"

The heroes turned to see three figures surrounding a man with tousled brown hair, sitting calmly with his eyes closed in the center of a glowing formation. Energy from the very atmosphere gathered around him like a vortex. He was channeling it outward—feeding it to the heroes in waves.

Their strength returned.

And with it, so did their hope.

But even with all that firepower, the battle was still brutal. The number of monsters and beasts was simply overwhelming.

Suddenly, streaks of blue lightning rained down from the heavens, obliterating another wave of creatures in a blinding flash.

High above, Elexa floated in the sky, her long blue hair crackling with electricity, lifted by the storm of energy surrounding her. Her eyes scanned the battlefield, then settled on a glowing yellow portal radiating ominous power.

She sighed.

This would be the third portal she had cleared today—and she was far from done.

Without hesitation, she descended into the portal’s swirling light. The moment she stepped through, a horde of beasts rushed toward her. The portal’s exit had become a choke point, and she was now the only thing standing in their way.

Far in the distance, her sharp eyes locked onto the portal boss—a towering abomination radiating pure malice, its size dwarfing everything around it.

Elexa exhaled softly and closed her eyes.

Then they snapped open—now glowing with wild, crackling energy.

Her voice rang out—calm, powerful, and absolute.

"Volt Avatar."

In an instant, her body dissolved into millions of bolts of blue lightning, streaking forward and vaporizing every beast in her path. The swarm was decimated in seconds.

Elsewhere on the battlefield, the A6 were still fighting valiantly, cutting down monsters and holding the lines. Their presence turned the tide in many areas, but even they weren’t invincible.

And they didn’t have infinite energy.

Elexa knew this. That’s why she was pushing herself—eliminating as many portal bosses as she could before their forces collapsed.

---

Meanwhile, in another part of Maurina City...

A few kilometers from the ruins of the arena stood a large infirmary, one of the few still operational. Inside, dozens of wounded—both awakeners and civilians—were being treated in every corner of the building.

Most of the heroes who had recovered were already back on the battlefield, fighting alongside city guards to keep the beasts at bay. The battle outside was fierce. Energy clashed against fang and claw, and even though they were vastly outnumbered, the defenders pushed forward, determined.

But fatigue was setting in.

Their energy reserves were almost gone—and it showed. Movements slowed. Skills weakened. And the tide began to shift.

---

Inside the infirmary...

Two nurses watched the frontline through a high-tech lens, their faces pale.

"If this keeps up, they’ll break through," said the blonde nurse, panic creeping into her voice. "If the monsters reach this building, all the patients... they’ll die."

The black-haired nurse could only shake her head, lips pressed tightly together. "There’s no one left," she whispered. "Every hero who could fight is already out there..."

The blonde nurse’s eyes widened. A memory surfaced—a face.

"There is someone," she muttered.

Without another word, she bolted up the stairs, ignoring her colleague’s confused calls. The black-haired nurse followed closely behind, anxious and bewildered.

They reached a ward at the far end of the hallway.

The blonde nurse threw open the door and rushed inside. On the bed lay a young man—maybe nineteen or twenty—with tousled blonde hair and a calm expression, still unconscious.

The blonde nurse began shaking him urgently, desperation in her voice.

"Wake up! Please, wake up! You’re our only hope!"

"Stop it, Cynthia! You’re going to make his condition worse," the black-haired nurse said sharply, grabbing her colleague’s arm.

But Cynthia didn’t stop.

"I know what his file says," she snapped back. "He’s not just any awakener—he made it to the Tournament of Power. He’s strong... he has to wake up."

She continued to shake the young man—pleading, begging, whispering his name like a prayer. But the figure on the bed didn’t move. His face remained still and peaceful, as if he were merely asleep.

But it wasn’t sleep.

It was something deeper—a partial coma.

The injuries he had sustained were devastating. Without an S-rank healer, his recovery had slowed to a crawl. His physical wounds had mostly mended, but the internal damage—his spirit, his mind—was still locked in stasis.

After several more minutes, Cynthia finally stopped, her hands trembling. She stared at the young man—Aiden—one last time.

Then she turned away, shoulders slumped, following the other nurse out of the room. She closed the door softly behind her.



Outside, the sounds of battle roared louder. The building trembled. The end felt inevitable.

And there was nothing more they could do.

Minutes passed. Then more.

Silence.

And then—movement.

Aiden’s hand twitched.

His fingers slowly curled, nails elongating into sharp, feral claws. His chest rose as he took a deep, rasping breath.

Then—

His eyes snapped open.

Black. Wild. Alive.

Aiden is back.

To be continued...