Chapter 286: Destroy The Cursed (102)

Chapter 286 – Pain of the FlameDamn it... that hurt. It really hurt.

Han’s thoughts were a blur of agony. The pain tearing through him was blinding, searing... like his very soul was being ripped apart. But he couldn’t stop. Not now.

Because beneath that unbearable pain, there was something else... power.

An ocean of it.

He could feel it burning in his veins, the power of two ancient elemental spirits raging inside him. It was wild, violent, intoxicating. He felt three times stronger... maybe more. For the first time, he could finally match the Dark Emissary. Maybe... even kill her.

But Han wasn’t a fool.

He knew it. Even with this power, victory wouldn’t come easy. Every move sent agony stabbing through his body, every second felt like his bones were cracking apart. The pain wasn’t fading, it was growing.

Still, he forced himself to keep going.

For Sereanya.

For her people.

For everyone the Cursed had destroyed.

He would end this. No matter the cost.

The Dark Emissary lowered her hand, her expression twisting with something she hadn’t felt in years, confusion.

Someone had stopped her punch.

Not just stopped... it had pushed her back.

For a moment, she just stared at her trembling hand. Then her lips curled into a smile. A dark, wicked, mocking smile that cut through the air like a knife.

Han’s face hardened. Lightning flared around him, bursting outward with explosive force.

One instant he stood still.

The next, he was gone.

So was she.

Silence.

Then... BOOM!

A violent shockwave erupted through the hall. Ronan and the others were lifted off their feet and slammed against the massive double doors at the far end. The air screamed, pressure crushing their chests.


Even Drake, watching from his throne, wasn’t spared. The force hit him like a hammer, knocking the breath from his lungs. Blood slipped from the corner of his mouth before he smirked, wiping it away.

"Tch... impressive," he muttered, reaching for the crimson necklace at his throat. It flared to life, forming a blazing red barrier that wrapped around him and his throne.

This wasn’t just a battle.

This was something else.

Ronan groaned, pushing himself up. His body burned, but his eyes stayed locked on the sky above, where two blurs of power collided in a storm of fire and lightning.

Aiden clenched his jaw. "Guess... we leave the rest to him."

They all knew it. This fight was far beyond their reach. If they stepped in now, they’d only hold Han back.

Ronan’s hand tightened around his blade. His heart screamed to join his friend... to stand beside him, to fight the Cursed, to strike down that dark monster himself. But deep inside, he knew the truth.

He was too weak.

And that truth burned worse than any wound.

All they could do now was pray.

Pray that Han... broken, bleeding, defiant Han could do the impossible.

High above, the clash continued. Fire and thunder raged, tearing the heavens apart. Each strike felt like the wrath of gods, shaking the very foundation of the world. Han moved like a storm incarnate, flames roaring, lightning screaming through his veins.

But the Dark Emissary wasn’t just any foe. She was a weapon honed by centuries of battle.... merciless, precise, unstoppable.

Each of her blows carried death.

Each of Han’s counterattacks carried desperation.

The sky itself trembled under their war.

The battle raged on.

Even the walls which were built from reinforced metal were groaning, bending in and out like they were about to collapse. The air was thick with smoke, fire, and static. Ronan and the rest could barely stay standing.

On the surface, it looked like Han was matching the Dark Emissary blow for blow. But that was a lie... an illusion.

The truth was far worse.

The pain coursing through him from merging two elemental spirits at once was getting worse every passing second. Han was used to pain, he’d fought through agony before but this was something else. This was soul-deep torment. It tore through him, burning from the inside out until every nerve screamed.

He could barely breathe. He could barely see.

The only thing keeping him on his feet was his will.

I must take her down. I must destroy the Cursed. I must protect everyone.

Too many people had died already. Too many had suffered. He couldn’t let it happen again.

Those thoughts... those promises... were the only things anchoring him to reality. Through the agony, through the breaking of his flesh, his will refused to bow. His spirit burned fiercer, even as his body began to crumble under the weight of it all.

Every hit from the Dark Emissary tore at his health, each exchange slicing chunks off his lifeforce. Even with the reduced damage in this fused form, his body was at its limit. The more HP he lost, the more unbearable the pain became. His muscles trembled, his bones screamed, his skin cracked like burnt earth.

Then it happened.

One mistake. One missed punch.

Han’s fist cut through empty air.

Ramila’s counter came like a meteor. Her punch slammed straight into his gut, folding him in half. For a split second, his mind went blank and then the pain exploded like a bomb.

His HP plummeted.

-60 HP. 100/500 remaining.

Han was sent crashing down, but he forced himself to twist midair, landing on one knee. His breath came in ragged gasps. He tried to stand... but his body refused. Blood spilled from his mouth, splattering across the floor.

This is bad, he thought, glancing at the flickering red of his health bar. His vision blurred. His senses dulled. Everything was fading. Another hit like that and it was over.

He coughed again, blood thick and metallic on his tongue. His face tightened with frustration, with helpless rage.

Damn it... this is really bad.

---

Meanwhile, back in Sereanya, a loud shout shattered the quiet of the weapon forge. Rin jolted awake, heart pounding like a drum.

Could it be them?

The Cursed?

He grabbed the nearest weapon, a small dagger, but a potent one and rushed toward the source of the cry.

But when he got there, he froze.

It wasn’t an attack. It wasn’t danger at all.

It was Nathan.

The older man was grinning from ear to ear, eyes shining with exhaustion and triumph. Before him lay a set of armor... strange, gleaming, and unlike anything Rin had ever seen.

"What... what is that?" Rin asked, breathing hard.

Nathan turned to him, smiling wide. "It’s done," he said softly, pride trembling in his voice. "It’s finally complete. Nova Phase."

Rin’s eyes widened.

He’d heard that name before... Nathan’s secret project. The one he’d sworn would change everything. The one that could turn the tide against the Cursed... and maybe, just maybe, stop the nightmare he feared from ever coming true.

Nathan smiled, then frowned, his joy fading as a thought struck him.

"Well... it’s done," he muttered, running a hand through his hair. "But I’ve got no damn clue how we’re supposed to get it there in time."

He wasn’t wrong. The distance between them and the battlefield was massive... days away, even at top speed. And time was one thing they no longer had.

Rin fell silent, thinking hard. The air between them crackled with tension and urgency.

Then suddenly, an image flashed through his mind... John Stewart.

A subtle smile tugged at Rin’s lips.

Nathan caught it instantly. "What’s that look for?" he asked, brow furrowing. "Why are you smiling?"

Rin looked up, the faint grin still lingering. "Because," he said quietly, "I don’t think we need to worry about how to get it there."

Nathan blinked. "And why’s that?"

Rin’s smile widened, confident now... almost daring.

"Because I know someone who will get it there... just in time."

Nathan stared at him, speechless for a moment, then exhaled sharply through his nose. "And who is that?" he said, half skeptical, half curious.

Rin’s eyes burned with certainty as he replied. "My friend."

---

To Be Continued......

AUTHOR’S NOTE

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– Ultra