CHAPTER 136: FREAKS OF NATURE

Chapter 136

Aiden’s plan had unfolded perfectly—right up to the moment it shattered.

His strike was dead-on, aimed to catch Magus off guard. But just before it could land, a massive wall of earth erupted between them, stopping the attack cold.

Aiden’s eyes widened—not because the wall itself had stopped him, but because of what it meant.

"...Impossible," he muttered, his voice low and laced with disbelief.

"How... How can you use three abilities?" he asked aloud, stunned.

But instead of a reply, a colossal earthen fist burst from the wall and smashed into his face. The impact hurled him across the ground like a ragdoll. Dirt scraped against his skin as he skidded to a stop, coughing from the dust cloud and the pain.

He forced himself upright, lungs burning, body trembling. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.

High above, Magus floated with eerie serenity, his calm expression completely unshaken—as if none of this mattered to him.

Aiden stared, still trying to process what he had just witnessed.

Throughout his journey, he had only ever met one person capable of wielding more than two abilities: Han. That man had been a monster in his own right—powerful, terrifying, and abnormal in every sense of the word. A freak of nature.

Most Awakeners had one ability. Two was so rare it was often considered a blessing—or a curse. But three?

Three was supposed to be impossible.

And now, somehow... he had run into a second monster.

"At least I won’t be caught off guard again," Aiden muttered under his breath, trying to steady himself.

But as if the universe were mocking him, Magus calmly extended both hands toward the sky.

Aiden’s heart dropped.

Above him, flames burst into existence. Swords—dozens, no... hundreds of them—began to form in the air, each one blazing with intense fire. The sky itself seemed to catch fire under the sheer weight of their presence.

Aiden’s mouth went dry.

"...Fire? You have fire abilities too?"

Four. He had four abilities.

"Goddamn it," Aiden whispered, on the verge of laughing or crying—he couldn’t tell which. "Four?!"

What were the odds? He’d only come to gather intel—not to get face-to-face with a mythical monster disguised as a man. His luck hadn’t just betrayed him—it had dragged him into the abyss and left him there.

Just as the flaming swords prepared to descend, Aiden shouted, his voice slicing through the tension.

"Wait!"

Magus paused, tilting his head slightly in acknowledgment, curious but unbothered.

Aiden coughed, wiped the blood from his chin, and managed to speak.

"...Before you turn me into a pile of ash—mind if I ask one question?"

"Be honest with me," Aiden muttered, bruised and breathing heavily. "Are you... some kind of ancient monster wearing a human face?"

Magus’ eyebrow twitched for the first time. A sliver of amusement—or was it irritation?—flickered in his gaze.

"Find out... in hell," he replied coldly.

Then, with a simple gesture, the hundred flame swords hanging above ignited brighter and rained down.

"Oh, I’m so screwed," Aiden said.

The sky lit up in fire and fury as the swords descended. Aiden screamed, twisting, dodging, swatting away what he could. But there were too many. Far too many.

–10 HP

–10 HP

–15 HP

–9 HP

Searing pain riddled his body as cuts, burns, and bruises racked him from head to toe.

[100 / 300 HP remaining]

Aiden gritted his teeth. If this keeps up, I’m dead.

"Dark Essence Mode won’t help anymore," he growled. "I need something else."

Darkness coiled around him for a second... then vanished.

In its place, Aiden’s body shifted—his arms thickened, his back bulged, muscles swelled with unnatural power. He transformed into a massive, gorilla-like beast, raw strength oozing from every fiber.

But he wasn’t done.

"Emerald Vine Mode—activate!"

Green light surged through his veins. Thick, glowing vines erupted from his back and wrapped around his arms and shoulders like armor, pulsating with energy.

---

Back at the Arena...

The crowd roared as the second match ended in stunning fashion.

Null stood victorious.

Elexa lay unconscious, her body embedded in the arena floor. One hit—that was all it took. The crowd was stunned silent for a moment before bursting into disbelief and cheers. No one expected Null to win, let alone obliterate Elexa so casually. Especially after she had seemed to trap him perfectly.

But Null did what no one predicted.

He crushed her.

Now, he was officially headed to the semifinals.

And his opponent?

Han.

The matchup was already drawing buzz, with fans wildly speculating how it would go. Everyone was excited—everyone except Han himself. He watched Null with quiet caution. Something about that guy didn’t sit right with him.

He couldn’t quite place it yet, but he’d learned to trust his instincts.

Almighty stepped onto the stage, and the crowd erupted with fanfare. Chanting his name. Cheering like he was the second coming of a god.

Back straight. Chin high. Calm expression. Confidence radiated from him.

But inside?

Panic.

I’m so dead... Almighty thought, maintaining his mask.

He stood tall and waved to the crowd, soaking in their worship. Not because he enjoyed it—he was buying time. Time to remember the brilliant plan he’d come up with just minutes ago.

His opponent was Clara.

The same Clara who’d wiped the floor with three other contestants like she was sweeping crumbs off a table.

If he fought her seriously, he’d be dead before the minute was over.

So, here was the plan: The moment Clara showed up, he’d rush her with everything he had... and collapse. Dramatically. Like a warrior who had pushed himself too far. Hopefully, people would believe he had overexerted himself or suffered some mysterious internal injury.

Who cared what they believed, as long as he lived?

He glanced toward the stage entrance, silently praying.

Please don’t show up. Please oversleep. Trip. Forget the time. Just... don’t come.

Fate, as usual, spat in his face.

Clara walked in.

The crowd roared again—less loud than for him, but loud enough to show she had fans too. After all, her fierce determination and impressive combat record had already earned her admiration.

But unlike him, Clara wasn’t smiling. She wasn’t angry or excited either.

Her expression was unreadable.

Calm. Still. Dangerous.

The announcer finished his exaggerated introduction, the lights flaring up as he raised his hand.

"Let the battle... BEGIN!"

He snapped his fingers. A resounding BANG echoed through the arena.

Almighty’s heart sank.

Time to fake a concussion.

For a long, tense moment, Clara and Almighty just stared at each other.

Almighty’s confident posture betrayed him slightly—his eyes practically begged her not to attack. Despite the reputation, he knew he wasn’t invincible. The crowd believed he was a god. He knew he was just a lucky man trying to survive.

Alright. It’s now or never, he thought, preparing to launch himself forward dramatically—step one of his plan to fake a heroic collapse.

Yes, it would ruin his prestige. Yes, people might laugh. But as long as he lived, it was worth every ounce of shame.

Just as he braced himself to move, he froze.

Clara raised her hand.

His heart nearly stopped.

Oh no... has she decided to end me right here?! He screamed inwardly, trying to command his legs to flee, arms to block, or even mouth to beg.

But nothing moved.

Paralyzed—not by an attack, but by pure fear.

Then... Clara spoke.

"I forfeit."

Her voice was calm. Clear. The crowd instantly went silent, disbelief rippling across the arena like a wave.

"I’m not fully recovered," Clara continued. "Pushing my body in this state would only make things worse."

Murmurs spread. Many were disappointed, some even frustrated. But no one dared to boo. Clara had earned their respect—and they understood. No one wanted to see a warrior destroy herself.

Without another word, she turned and walked off the stage. Her expression was unreadable.

Almighty released the longest sigh of his life.

Thank the heavens. I survived.

He grinned internally. I really love my luck. I should marry it.

Luck, after all, was his greatest weapon. Without it, he’d already be fertilizer.

---

Inside Clara’s Mind...

But her forfeit had nothing to do with healing.

She was fully recovered. She could’ve fought. Maybe not at full power—but enough to hold her own.

No... the reason she left was something else.

That feeling... That dreadful, suffocating feeling... she thought, fists clenched as she strode away. A sense of doom... something’s terribly wrong.

A face flashed in her mind.

Aiden...

Her heart clenched. Please... be safe.

---

Meanwhile... Back to Aiden

Things had gone from bad... to catastrophic.

Being bombarded by four devastating elemental attacks wasn’t something even a top-tier warrior could walk away from easily. And Aiden wasn’t even standing anymore.

He pushed himself up weakly, body trembling. Craters marked the battlefield—each one carved by his broken form slamming into the ground.

His clothes were tattered, soaked in blood.

His body? A shell of what it once was.

Blood dripped steadily from his mouth. His vision blurred. His limbs felt like lead.

There was a limit to how much the Blood Weave passive skill could patch up.

And apparently, no limit to how many attacks that red-haired bastard Magus could hurl.

His knees buckled again. He collapsed, face-first into the dirt.

[20 / 300 HP remaining]

Only one thing had kept him alive this long—Emerald Vine Mode. Its passive healing gave him precious seconds.

But now... it was gone.

Energy drained. Hope extinguished.

He couldn’t even raise a hand.

Magus stood silently above him. His face was calm... but behind the stoicism, a flicker of pity crossed his eyes.

"I’m sorry," Magus said quietly. "But you have to die... for this world."

He stretched out his arm.

A fireball formed in his palm—massive, glowing, deadly. Then, with a snap of his fingers, he infused it with wind. The temperature surged. Flames spun into a concentrated inferno, shrieking as it cut through the air.

Aiden could only watch.

Frozen. Hopeless.

Boom!

The fireball exploded on impact.

Thud.

Aiden’s limp body slammed into the ground, unmoving.

Magus descended slowly from the sky, landing beside the limp body . He stared for a moment, saying nothing.

Then, with a wave of his hand, he used earth magic to repair the battlefield—erasing every crater, every mark. When he finished, it looked as if no battle had ever occurred.

Just silence.

Magus looked at Aiden’s body one final time.

Then, without ceremony, he tossed him into the deep ocean below—a sea infamous for housing monstrous sea beasts. Creatures that would devour even a corpse if they found one.

"Another one..." Magus muttered, voice laced with guilt. "But this is the cost. One life... to save thousands. It’s necessary."

With that, he vanished.

No one ever knew the battle took place.

---

To Be Continued...

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