CHAPTER 284: DESTROY THE CURSED (100)

Chapter 284: The Ultimate Warrior.

The Dark Emissary’s eyes locked on him again. A cold prick ran down Han’s spine. He knew, with blood-deep certainty, what was coming next. He did not know if he would survive it.

Before she moved, an arrow flashed, deep purple and crackling with power. It shot past like a star and struck the Emissary. Her hand shot up, caught the shaft between pale fingers, held it for a beat, then crushed it into nothing.

The heroes had already prepared. In one heartbeat Ronan, Silverwing, Bakor, Aiden, Elexa, Little One, Bron, Shae, and the others all struck together. Their timing was perfect. Each attack alone could wreck an army. Unleashed at once on a single target, their blows were not just lethal, they were erasure.

They hit.

The room detonated. A blinding, earth-shuddering explosion threw the heroes back like rag dolls. Wind and debris slammed the chamber. Even Drake’s throne felt the shock, but he only sipped his wine and watched, calm as a predator eyeing prey.

For a dizzy second the Emissary seemed surprised. A flicker of lost concentration. That fraction of a moment was all the heroes needed.

Shae erupted with a blue aura and slashed the air. Bron slammed forward with a white-energy fist. Silverwing rained down silver swords, divine and sharp. Elexa called lightning. Balor unleashed a void pulse. Little One fired fully charged green blasts. Ronan cut with a vibrant slash that screamed.

All at once, the attacks met the Emissary.

The blast rocked the whole room. It was the kind of explosion that should have ended a being. The aftershock sent the heroes sprawling, crashing into the far walls. Wind gouged at Drake’s robes, but he did not flinch. He smiled. "They seem strong," he said and sipped his wine.

Silence fell. Dust rose. Then the ground trembled.

From the dust the Dark Emissary rose, hovering high above the shattered floor, calm. Her dark eyes pinned every hero below. She looked at them like they were corpses she hadn’t yet finished.

Drake’s voice cut through the chamber, low and amused. "You fools think Project Ultimate failed? How wrong you are. That is an ultimate warrior. Not an S rank. Not ten S rankers. None of you can kill her. You are all so dead."

Every syllable landed in Han’s gut. His face went cold. Drake’s words stitched a truth Han had been trying not to see. This opponent had broken past S rank limits. She might be at the level of his berserk state. If that was true, no hero here could stand. They would die.

Han’s system flared continuously with red warnings. He felt it in his bones, a pull like a death sentence aimed straight at him. He reached for every skill he had and felt, with animal clarity, that escape might be impossible.

The Emissary’s head tilted. Her gaze fixed on Ronan. The room stilled.

Han’s breath shortened. Time narrowed to the space between heartbeats. He could see it all now: the damage done, the odds stacked, the faces of his friends. He felt the cold edge of a decision forming.

If he did nothing, they died. If he moved, he might die first. Fear and resolve warred in his chest. He tasted iron.

He stepped forward.

Her lips curled up slightly.

The heroes braced. The chamber held its breath.

Then the Emissary smiled, and the smile was not human.

The Dark Emissary’s eyes locked onto Ronan, and his system flared red...[Danger Alert] screaming in his mind. His pulse froze. Every instinct told him death was already reaching for him.

For some reason, even if he used his Switch skill, he knew that he wouldn’t escape alive.

But before the Emissary could move, she stopped. Her head tilted sharply, dark eyes shifting toward the figure walking toward her.

Han.

He walked with calm steps, his expression unreadable but his eyes were cold and steady, carried war in them.

"I might not be able to access Berserker right now to match your power," Han said, his voice low, steel beneath restraint. "But I’ve got something else. Something enough to take you on."

The air trembled.

He raised a hand. "Ifrit. Thunderwrath."

A roar of flame exploded to his right as Ifrit, the Flame Spirit, emerged—fire dancing like a living inferno. To his left, lightning tore open the air as Thunderwrath, the Silver Dragon, descended in crackling majesty.

One radiated heat that could melt the heavens. The other lightning that split the void.

Both exuded raw, terrifying power.

That was only step one.

Han’s gaze flicked to his system screen. One skill name glowed gray... locked.

[Berserker]

He clenched his jaw. "Damn it..."

He had sworn never to touch that skill again. Not after what happened in Serenya. Not after what it had cost him. But right now, he didn’t have a choice.

The situation was beyond desperate. The Dark Emissary wasn’t just strong, she was too strong. Even if every hero here fought together, they’d still die.

If Berserker were active, he might have stood a chance. Might’ve even killed her. But it was locked. Dead gray. Untouchable.

Maybe it needed the same kind of rage he’d felt that day, the kind that burned everything, including himself. But there was no time to figure it out.

The Emissary was already moving.

Han swallowed a Restoration Pill, the pain in his body receding as his health surged. He stepped forward, eyes fixed on her like a predator returning to the hunt.

"If I can’t use Berserker," he muttered, "then I’ll use this."

He lifted his arms again.

"Ifrit. Thunderwrath."

The two elemental spirits flared brightly, Ifrit blazing on his right, Thunderwrath crackling on his left.

Han took a breath. His heartbeat thundered in his chest.

This next part will hurt.

He knew it. He didn’t care.

"Merge," he commanded.

To Be Continued...

AUTHOR’S NOTE

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– Ultra