Chapter 63: Too Dangerous

Chapter 63: Too DangerousChapter 63

A thunderous explosion ripped through the air, sending a figure hurtling backward like a ragdoll thrown by the storm. The collapsing building groaned and cracked as debris rained down, but through the choking smoke, two silhouettes emerged—calm, poised, and unyielding.

Ronan staggered forward, blood dripping steadily from the corner of his mouth. Every breath was a struggle. He knew, with painful clarity, that he had no chance of winning this fight. Yet, surrender was not an option. His resolve burned hotter than his battered body.

Before him stood three adversaries—the first was waiting for the perfect moment to strike, but the two were far deadlier. The curly-haired fighter and the black-haired swordsman were masters of their weapons, each movement fluid and precise, their aura crackling with lethal intent.

Ronan’s fingers tightened around the hilt of his sword. Gritting his teeth, he called upon his master’s most devastating technique: Dance Swords Art—Thirty Splitting Strike! His blades moved in a blur, slashing through the thick air with ferocious speed.

Strike after strike clashed with their weapons, a symphony of metal ringing out amid the chaos. Ronan pushed to hold them back, but dread gnawed at his gut as he caught sight of Shifter—the blonde-haired—preparing his signature move again.

Shifter exploded forward, faster than the eye could follow, his blade aimed at Ronan’s chest. The blow came like a battering ram. Ronan barely managed to block, staggering under the impact. Before he could recover, a dagger flashed through the air, piercing his chest—not deeply, but enough.

-10 HP

50/100 HP remaining.

Pain seared through him, but Ronan refused to show weakness. He lunged at the black-haired fighter, but Shifter intercepted the blow with a swift parry. The two leapt back simultaneously, creating space.

Ronan’s heart plummeted. He knew what was coming.



A dozen black needles rained from above, each one swift and deadly. Ronan dodged, but the needles splintered the ground around him, embedding themselves like landmines.

"Explode!" Burner’s voice cut through the smoke like a whip.

BOOM!

The explosion threw Ronan’s battered body across the battlefield. Pain exploded in every nerve ending, but the two enemies stood firm, side by side, radiating an overwhelming confidence that chilled the air.

They had never feared fighting Ronan—no one did—but they knew that facing him one-on-one meant certain defeat. Together, though, they were unstoppable.

What they didn’t know was the truth: The guild leader they sought to crush wasn’t truly here. If he had been, they’d already be dead.

Emerging from the smoke, Ronan staggered forward, his vision blazing with determination.

The two adversaries were formidable, but combined with Burner’s explosive trap, the battlefield was a nightmare.

"I will end you all," Ronan growled and charged, blade gleaming.

He ducked under a sweeping strike, the sound of his sword slicing through flesh ringing sharp and clear.

"Clang!"

The black-haired swordsman froze, stunned—his eyes wide, as if seeing a ghost.

Ronan saw it—the momentary flicker of doubt.

Leaping high into the air, Ronan narrowly avoided a rapier strike aimed where he’d been moments before. He descended like a falcon, his blades aimed deadly at Shifter.

Shifter barely blocked, scowling fiercely. The battle had shifted—Ronan was adapting, evolving with every exchange. If this continued, their victory would slip through their fingers.

Clash after clash echoed across the ruins. Ronan pressed the attack, holding a narrow edge. But Shifter, relentless, locked his rapier against Ronan’s blades, halting the assault.

"Fin!" Shifter shouted.

From the void, the red-armored Vanguard emerged—Ronan’s earlier wound still bleeding. Fin struck from behind, his blade slicing toward Ronan’s back.

But before the strike landed, Shifter’s face twisted in shock—a sharp pain blossomed in his chest. One of their own had betrayed them.

"What—?" Shifter gasped, eyes darting to the source of the strike.



Ronan’s lips curled into a faint, almost imperceptible smile.

Was this his doing?

Before Shifter could process the betrayal, Ronan vanished from sight.

Suddenly, needles erupted from the ground around Shifter, glowing a fierce, ominous red. His face drained of color.

BOOM!

From the top of the ruined building, Burner watched with a grim smile.

He’d underestimated Ronan’s power—never imagined the guild leader could create a clone.

When he saw Ronan and his double holding Shifter in place, hesitation flickered in his eyes.

But Burner’s fingers danced over his arsenal, readying an overwhelming barrage of needles.

The moment Shifter had left, Burner struck.

There was no escape.

But danger loomed suddenly overhead.

Ronan appeared on the rooftop, sword flashing in the dying light.

With a roar, he surged forward, momentum carrying him through the air. His blade sliced clean through one of Burner’s arms.

Burner screamed in agony, clutching the stump. His attack faltered.


"How is this possible?" Burner cried, disbelief etched across his face. "How does anyone survive an explosion like that?"

Ronan’s sword swung toward Burner’s chest—but a rapier intercepted the strike, pushing him back.

Ronan’s eyes scanned the defenders. He was shocked. He should be dead.

Shifter stepped forward, voice cold and deadly.

"I don’t know what your skill is, but to control minds like that—"

"You’re more dangerous than I thought."



The truth was simpler. Ronan had no fancy mind-control skill. He’d used the two active skills of his blades, using the blades to create illusions that briefly confused their vision.

That should have ended the fight.

But Ronan realized his mistake—why had he expected high-ranking foes to lack defenses?

He spat blood and straightened, resolve hardening.

"I’ve made my decision," Shifter said, voice low and filled with finality. "You’re too dangerous to live—not just for me, but for the entire organization. Because of that... you’re going to die here and now."

The trio slapped their large C-rank insignias embedded in their armor.

The battlefield seemed to still, heavy with the weight of what was to come.

Suddenly, black veins snaked across their bodies, pulsing violently beneath their skin.

Their eyes darkened, glowing with a sinister cursed energy.

"It can’t be," Ronan whispered, dread sinking deep into his bones.

A partial transformation.

To be continued...