Martial Arts Vs Magic - Chapter 128

Chapter 128: Consequences of Poor Choices

I withdrew my hand from the wall, where the soldier's head had become an abstract painting of bone and brain matter. The wet sound echoed through the cavern as brain matter fell to the floor. The sound marked the sudden shift in power dynamics.

The remaining guards stood frozen, eyes trembling. They were caught between duty and the very reasonable desire to live, eyes full of fear. Their gaze darted between their fallen comrade's corpse and me, calculating odds that kept coming up negative.

"Gentlemen," I said, raising my severed elbow toward their ranks. "I'd suggest prayer, but I doubt any god is listening down here."

Red-black energy crackled along the stump of my arm, condensing into a sphere of pure destruction. The guards' faces went pale as death itself.

"Wait—" one started.

[Beam of Destruction]

The cavern lit up like a twisted aurora. A lance of annihilation carved through their ranks, and where it touched, men simply ceased. No screams, no dramatic death throes—just erasure, clean and absolute. The beam swept left to right and painted absence across the stone.

When the light faded, only ash drifted where twelve men had stood.

At the same time, I felt a slight increase in my Qi. Although my energy channels were temporarily active thanks to the Soul Fire flowing through them, I didn’t have access to all 20,000 Qi. So the little increase helped. As for why it happened?

===

Passive: [Astral Infusion]

Each successful strike against any enemy slightly replenishes your Qi by absorbing traces of their astral essence. When fighting mythical or legendary foes, the effect is greatly enhanced, restoring a more substantial amount and providing brief regeneration, making extended combat more sustainable.

• Category: Astral Manipulation / Resource Sustain

===

One of the three new Class Skills.

I turned to face the real threats, flexing my fingers as Soul Fire sang through restored pathways. Gods, I'd missed having a proper energy flow. Like breathing after being underwater for far too long.

"Well," Sir Thaddeus said, his scarred face impassive despite having just watched me delete his men. "That changes things."

Baron Sahlizar's forked tongue flicked nervously, tasting death in the air. "You... that was Destruction affinity. You really are the demon from Merasca."

"Guilty as charged." I rolled my shoulders, feeling the Heavenly Demon Body respond eagerly to having Qi again. "Too late for any regrets, though."

Thaddeus moved first, his blade singing from its sheath in a draw cut that would have bisected a lesser opponent. But with my Demonic Sphere active again—finally—I felt the attack coming before he'd even committed to it. The sphere of awareness extended in every direction, turning the battlefield into my personal domain where nothing could surprise me.

I leaned back, letting the blade whisper past my throat by a hair's breadth. The Knight's eyes widened a fraction. He'd expected me to dodge further, giving him room for a follow-up. Instead, I stepped into his guard.

My knee drove up toward his solar plexus. He twisted, armor taking the brunt, but the impact still sent him sliding back. His boots carved grooves in the stone as he fought for balance.

"Interesting," I mused, watching him recover with professional grace. "Your stance is Ethenia Empire standard, but that draw was pure Eastern philosophy.” It was similar to those fancy anime sword unsheathing I’d seen on TV. “A student of multiple schools?"

"Indeed. In fact, I once won a competition and had the chance of learning a move from the Titan himself as a reward," Thaddeus said, settling into a defensive stance. He was trying to make me relax by saying he knew my grandfather.

"My grandfather always did like collecting strays," I said, noting how Sahlizar circled to flank me. My Sphere tracked his every movement—the minute shifts in weight, the way his reptilian muscles coiled for a strike. "Tell me, Sir Knight, did he ever teach you the counter to death?"

Thaddeus's answer came in steel. 

He unleashed a flurry of strikes, each one flowing into the next. He shouted the names of his attacks, performing them with impressive expertise—[Northern Wind Cuts Through Mountain], [Eagle Descends on Prey], [Seven Stars of the Dipper]. 

Technique names I recognized from reading about the Erebian Empire before, executed with a precision that would have made their creators weep with joy.

Any one of those strikes could have ended a Fifth Ascension warrior. Against a Sixth? They were still lethal, just slower. And with my Sphere active, they might as well have been performed underwater.

I weaved between the strikes, not bothering to block. Each dodge was minimal, just enough to let steel kiss air instead of flesh. It was almost meditative, this dance of death. I'd missed it more than I'd realized.

"You're toying with me," Thaddeus growled, frustration cracking his professional mask.

"No," I said, ducking under a horizontal slash that would have taken my head. "I'm remembering."

That's when Sahlizar struck. The Baron had shed his humanoid form, revealing the monster beneath. He’d become a serpentine lizard the size of a small building, scales gleaming like molten gold. His tail whipped toward me with bone-crushing force.

[Mythic Dominion]

===

Active: [Mythic Dominion]

Exert dominance over the immediate battlefield (25-meter radius), momentarily increasing your resistance to magical abilities by 20% and significantly slowing enemy movement and reaction speed by 15% for 60 seconds. Against Mythical beings, this effect is amplified, severely hampering their ability to channel mana and cast powerful skills efficiently.

• Category: Domain Control

===

The air itself grew heavy as my will imposed itself on reality. A twenty-five meter radius became mine, and within it, I was at my best. Sahlizar's tail slowed as if moving through tar. Thaddeus's next strike crawled through the air, giving me all the time in the world to simply step aside.

"First time using this," I admitted, marveling at the sensation. "Although I might have activated it unintentionally when I used Worldforge last time. The System really does spoil its champions." I spoke, and the word ‘Worldforge’ made my enemies stiffen.

I raised my right arm, and something impossible happened—a translucent, ghostly arm materialized where my severed limb should be. The Phantom Hand flexed, solid enough to grasp, ethereal enough to ignore physical laws.

"No," Thaddeus breathed. "That was the iconic technique of the Witch of Thessaly."

"Was it? I found [Phantom Hand] in a Skill Stone store." My Phantom Hand snatched a sword from a dead guard's grip, testing its weight. Not great quality, but it would serve. "Shall we continue?"

What followed could barely be called a fight. It was a massacre in slow motion, made worse by the fact that both my opponents were skilled enough to understand exactly how outclassed they were.

Thaddeus came at me with everything he had. 

“[Void Cutting Stance]!”

It shattered against my sword.

“[Heaven's Judgment Falls]!!”

I easily overpowered that one.

“[Phoenix Spreads Wings]!!!”

Each grand technique was perfectly executed, the culmination of decades of training. Against my restored abilities, they were morning exercises.

I flowed around his attacks, my movements incorporating styles from both worlds. A dodge from the Heavenly Demon's memories here, a counter from Iskandaar's training there. When he overextended on a thrust, I didn't just dodge; I redirected his momentum with my Phantom Hand, sending him stumbling into Sahlizar's path.

The Baron-turned-monster snarled, acid spraying from his maw. I'd already moved, using [Void Step] to appear above them both. 

The sword in my Phantom Hand began to glow with crimson Qi.

"You wanted to see the Heavenly Demon's power?" I asked, raising the blade overhead. "Let me show you something new."

[True Demon Sword Art, Sixth Form: Dance of the Ten Thousand Fireflies]

I poured 5,000 Qi into the sword, and the cavern exploded with light. Not the harsh glare of destruction, but something almost beautiful—thousands of tiny motes of burning Qi, each one a perfect ember of annihilation. They danced through the air like fireflies at dusk, seeming random, harmless.

Sahlizar laughed, a sound like grinding stone. "Sparkles? This is your—"

The first firefly touched his scales. The explosion was small, contained, but it punched through his natural armor like paper. Then the second hit. The third. The thousandth.

He screamed as the swarm descended, each tiny light a precision strike targeting joints, soft tissue, vital points. Within seconds, the mighty Baron was on the ground, his monstrous form riddled with cauterized holes.

Thaddeus watched his ally fall, his face finally showing emotion—resignation. He lowered his sword, meeting my gaze with weary acceptance.

"I yield," he said simply. "I know when I'm beaten."

"Do you?" I landed softly, dispelling the remaining fireflies with a thought. "Because from where I'm standing, you're still breathing. That seems optimistic."

"Let me and the Prince leave, and we’ll forget this ever happened. I promise you. I knew your grandfather." His scarred face twisted in what might have been a smile. "Worked under him for three years. He spoke of you sometimes—his gifted grandson who could have been anything." He gestured at the carnage around us. "Is this what you chose to become?"

"I chose survival." My voice came out harder than intended. "Everything else is just... side effects."

"The Titan would be disappointed."

"The Titan isn't here." I stepped closer, noting how he didn't flinch. Brave to the end. A liar, as well. "Did you know, Sir Knight… I was a cripple from birth. My grandfather couldn't have talked about me becoming ‘anything.’ I haven’t seen him in five years.”

“....”

“It's pitiful that you act so honorably while lying to my face,” I said. “What did my grandfather say about mercy?"

Hope flickered in his eyes. "...That it was the privilege of the strong."

"Wrong lesson." My Phantom Hand drove the borrowed sword through his heart. "The last time I saw him, he said mercy was a luxury the wise couldn't afford. Only the strongest could. Unfortunately for you… I'm not the strongest yet.”

Thaddeus's eyes widened, then dimmed. He fell backwards, joining his men in whatever afterlife awaited career soldiers. Experience point notifications flashed before me, but I ignored them. Not yet.

I turned to where Lailah sat against the cavern wall, her silver eyes wide with shock. "Lailah."

She blinked, focusing on me as if seeing me for the first time.

"Your mother's killer." I gestured to where Sahlizar lay groaning, his monstrous form slowly reverting to humanoid. "You make the killing blow.”

Her breath caught. "W-what?"

"Don't be dazed. Warlord Sahlizar burned your mother because of his old hatred of demons. Even though your parents saved him from a desert storm." I kept my voice neutral, clinical. "You know this, and I don't believe you've never had the desire for revenge. So do it, if you want. You can end it. Your choice."

"I..." She stood on shaking legs, approaching the fallen Baron. "Can I really?"

Sahlizar's golden eyes focused on her, and recognition dawned. "The witch-spawn," he rasped, blood bubbling from countless wounds. "Should have... burned you too... when I had the chance."

Lailah's face went pale, then flushed with rage. "You murdered her. She saved you from a sandstorm when you had nothing, and you burned her for it."

"All demons... all witches..." He coughed, spraying crimson. "Same corruption... same evil... you'll become like her... like him..." His eyes found mine. "Monsters, all of you. That’s why you’re so eager to see me die, isn’t it? Go on, kill me. Prove me… right."

"Don't let his stupid words sway you, Lailah," I said quietly. "Don't let him tell you you're different from your blood. And revenge won’t make you some horrible demon, either. If you don't want to do it, I'll kill him myself."

Lailah stood there for a long moment, wind beginning to stir around her. When she finally raised her hand, her expression had hardened into something I recognized—the face of someone choosing to stop being a victim.

"For my mother," she whispered.

The wind blade was perfect—compressed air, sharp as any sword, guided by grief and rage given purpose. It rushed ahead with a whistle and took Sahlizar's head off cleanly, ending twenty-three years of hatred in a single moment.

It was over, just like that.

[Sahlizar, the Warlord of the Sand, has been killed. Although you haven’t landed the last blow, your merit in his death is immense. You've earned great experience points.]

[You've leveled up!]

[You’ve reached Level 97!]

I stared at the notification. I really didn’t feel much at this point, killing so many people. It did feel good that the fight was over and I’d won. More than that, I only felt regretful that this wasn't enough to push me to Level 99.

Ah, right. Is the Prince dead yet—?

"A-alexander,” Lailah interrupted me. “The Prince is up!"

Lailah's shout brought my attention to where Valerius had been crumpled. The princeling stood on shaking legs, one hand pressed to his neck where my kick had landed. Blood trickled from his nose, but he was very much alive.

How? My Sphere hadn't detected him stirring. No movement, no breath, no nothing. That’s right, an artifact, I realized. As a royalty, it was natural that he had some treasures.

I looked into his eyes, seeing his orange pupils tremble. “Scared? Good, you should be. You're going to regret not dying from the get-go.”

"Stay back," Valerius wheezed, fumbling at his neck. A red jewel hung there on a golden chain, pulsing with stored power. "I'll—"

I took a step forward. He yanked the jewel free and crushed it.

The world twisted inward. Space folded in on itself, reality bending as the emergency teleportation activated. One moment he stood before us, the next—gone. Not even a whisper of displaced air marked his exit.

"...Tch." I clicked my tongue. "This makes everything troublesome."

****

The cavern fell silent except for the musical trickle of water as I frowned. I could already see the consequences spreading like ripples. I didn't like it. A dead Baron, a dead Knight, a living Prince with a grudge and a story. 

The Erebian Empire would want answers. Blood. War, possibly. 

All because I didn't move fast enough to end that little bastard's life... No, I corrected myself. All because they thought they were a batch of stupid bastards who wanted me dead, and wanted to harm Lailah.

"So," Lailah said, her voice carefully neutral. "You did lie to me about your name."

I turned to find her sitting on the floor, watching me with an expression I couldn't quite read. Not fear—we'd passed that point. Not anger either. Something more complex, layered with emotions I could almost taste on the air.

"Iskandaar and Alexander are technically the same name," I said, offering a slight smile. "Different languages, same root. I prefer to think of it as cultural translation."

"Uh huh?" She slowly stood up, dusting off her clothes, and stepped closer. I noticed she wasn't shaking anymore. The girl who'd killed her mother's murderer stood straighter than the farm girl I'd met. "And the whole 'mysterious wanderer with no memories' act?"

"Technically true. I had no memories of the desert." I paused. "Very specific amnesia."

Despite everything—the blood, the bodies, the fact that she'd just learned her traveling companion was a wanted terrorist—she laughed. The sound reverberated off the cavern walls, bright and unexpected as desert rain.

"You're one crazy freak," she said, shaking her head.

"I've been told. Usually with more screaming and less amusement."

"Thank you." The words came out soft, serious. "For saving me. For... giving me the chance to face him. For everything."

"Lailah—"

"Please, let me say this." She met my gaze, silver eyes blazing with resolution. "I don't care what name you use. I don't care what the world calls you. You showed me strength when I had none. You believed in me when I couldn't believe in myself. You… you let me take revenge. Revenge was a dream that I only had for a day, the day my mother died. And I knew the next day that I could never defeat someone like Sahlizar. You gifted it to me. That matters more than any title or reputation."

As she spoke, I felt something in my spirit. Something impossible—her emotions, I felt them. I didn’t mean it in a figurative sense; I actually felt the raw and unfiltered emotion brush against my mind, my consciousness. Gratitude, determination, and underneath it all, a warmth that had nothing to do with the desert heat. 

The sensation was alien, intimate, like accidentally hearing someone's thoughts. What’s this? A new power?

More than that, I felt a new spark of Soul Fire kindle in my chest. Tiny, fragile, but undeniably there. Her faith made manifest, adding to my own flagging reserves.

"That's... new," I murmured, pressing a hand to my chest.

"What is?"

"Side effect of having my powers back. Your words empowered me, that’s why I got to stand back up earlier," I shook my head, filing the phenomenon away for later analysis. "But this won't last very long, the fire is running out. We should find the real oasis chamber before that. I’m not sure where the Prince fled, but there’s a chance he’s in Scorpion’s Kiss. We should return immediately. Before that, let’s head deeper into the cave. This can't be all there is."

She looked around at the terraced pools, the flowing water, and the bodies. "This isn't the main chamber? It looks pretty main to me."

"Appearances deceive." I closed my eyes, extending my Demonic Sphere to its full range. There, beneath the central pool, a gap in my perception. Not empty space, but different space. "There's something under the water. Deep."

"How deep?"

"Only one way to find out." I moved to the pool's edge, then turned back to her. "Fair warning, this might get uncomfortable."

"More uncomfortable than watching you delete a dozen men?"

"Different kind of uncomfortable, my lady," I held out my hand. "Trust me on this?"

She took it without hesitation. "A bit too late to ask that, mister." I laughed and pulled her close, wrapping an arm around her waist. She made a small sound—surprise, not protest—and I felt heat that had nothing to do with Soul Fire.

"This will be quick," I promised, then called out. "Photon Ring."

Golden light erupted from my back, forming a perfect ring of condensed stellar energy. Lailah gasped, pressing closer as we lifted off the ground.

"We're flying?"

"Briefly. Vyrn, psychic shield. Make it airtight."

The spectral owl materialized, trilling acknowledgment. A sphere of translucent force enclosed us just as I angled toward the water.

"Wait, we're going—"

We hit the surface and kept going. The water was cold, dark, and impossibly deep. My Photon Ring cut through it like a falling star, dragging us down, down, down into depths that shouldn't exist in any natural oasis.

Lailah's arms tightened around me. Through the shield, I could see her eyes wide with wonder as bioluminescent organisms flashed past, things that belonged in ocean trenches, not desert springs. The water itself grew thicker, more primordial, tasting of ages when the world was young and terrible things swam in the deep.

Then I saw it. A hole in the bottom of the world. Not just an opening, but a wound in reality itself, edges flickering between states of being.

"Hold on," I warned, and dove through.

The transition was... wrong. We passed through water and into air without flying out. Gravity inverted, then righted itself. For a moment that lasted forever, we were nowhere and everywhere, caught between heartbeats of existence.

Then we were through, standing on solid ground as if we'd never left it.

"What," Lailah said slowly, "just happened?"

I released her, looking around at our new surroundings. We stood in a perfect mirror of the cavern above—same terraced pools, same phosphorescent walls. But where blood had stained the stone above, here everything gleamed pristine. Where bodies had fallen, only clear floor remained.

And where empty air should have been...

"Oh," Lailah whispered. "Oh, that's not good."

The thing rising from the central pool defied easy description. Serpentine, yes, but made of condensed spirit rather than flesh. Purple energy writhed along its form, which seemed to exist in more dimensions than the usual three. It was massive, large enough to swallow buildings, yet somehow fit within the cavern without touching the walls.

A Leviathan's Spirit. The ghost of something so powerful that death was merely an inconvenience.

[Abyssal Leviathan Remnant - Level ???]

The question marks were never a good sign.

"Welcome," it said, and its voice was the sound of crushing depths and drowning sailors. "I have been waiting so long for one of the blood to return."

Its great head turned toward Lailah, and I understood.

We'd found the deepest secret of the oasis. The question now was whether we'd survive it.