CHAPTER 1154: FARCE OF THE CENTURY.

The storm above the battlefield no longer looked natural. It pulsed like a living thing, veins of gold and crimson flashing through the clouds. Every time Cain or Nebula struck, lightning rippled in sympathy, drawn to the raw magic tearing the air apart.

The world had become a crucible.

Cain’s boots dug into the scorched ground, his entire body trembling with strain. Steam hissed from his armor as the molten soil cooled against it. His heartbeat roared in his ears, loud enough to drown out the whistling of Nebula’s hovering blades.

Across from him, Nebula floated higher, arms extended. The blades that circled him expanded outward, merging into a massive ring that spanned the width of the battlefield. Each one glowed with pulsing light, forming intricate sigils that spun faster and faster until the entire ring resembled a luminous halo.

Cain’s jaw clenched. He’d seen that before—his own creation, twisted into something perverse.

"Nice trick," Cain muttered. "You really don’t have a single original bone in your body, do you?"

Nebula’s lips curved upward. "Improvement isn’t imitation. It’s evolution."

The halo brightened until the shadows it cast burned into the ground.

Cain raised {Eidwyrm}, channeling his remaining energy. The sword’s golden surface warped, veins of red running across it as if the metal itself were bleeding. He could feel the connection between him and the weapon tightening, the boundary between flesh and steel blurring.

"Evolution, huh?" he growled. "Then evolve this."

He swung upward.

The wave that erupted from the blade was colossal. It tore through the ground in a straight line, devouring the molten terrain as it screamed toward Nebula. The air distorted, folding and cracking from the sheer density of energy compressed within that strike.

Nebula snapped his fingers.

The halo rotated, and the wave split apart before it reached him, dissolving into harmless sparks.

Cain’s teeth grit. "Show-off."

Nebula descended slightly, his form outlined by the halo’s glow. "You’ve built your entire life on control and precision, Cain. You forge your power like a weapon, piece by piece, methodically. But there’s a difference between mastery and restraint."

"Cut the lecture."

Nebula ignored him. "You think the element obeys you because you understand it. But the truth is—metal isn’t about control. It’s about purpose. You don’t forge it to exist. You forge it to serve."

Cain’s eyes narrowed. "And what exactly are you serving?"

Nebula smiled faintly. "Balance."

The halo erupted.

Thousands of blades poured out at once, flooding the sky in a wave of molten silver. Each one carried an afterimage, flickering in and out of visibility as they jumped between coordinates. The swarm descended upon Cain like a collapsing galaxy.

Cain roared and raised his pistol, firing continuously. {Golden Tyrant} screamed, the runes along its barrel glowing white-hot. Each bullet tore through the storm of blades, detonating in brilliant flashes, but for every one destroyed, a dozen more filled its place.

He switched to melee as the first wave reached him.

{Eidwyrm} sang, cleaving through two, three, four blades in a single swing. He twisted his wrist, reversed the arc, and parried another volley that came at his flank. Sparks sprayed like rain. He pivoted, cutting down a cluster above him—only for more to stab at his feet.

The earth gave way.

A blade erupted from the molten ground and grazed his thigh, slicing through armor like cloth. He grunted, driving his sword down through it, then leapt back before the next wave could close in.

Nebula was already there, materializing behind him with a smirk. "You can’t block them all."

Cain spun, firing point-blank. The golden bullet hit Nebula’s chest—but the body flickered and vanished.

"Dammit—!"

A sharp pain lanced through Cain’s back. Nebula’s real form stood behind him, blade buried halfway into his shoulder. Cain bared his teeth and slammed his elbow backward, connecting with Nebula’s jaw. The man stumbled but didn’t fall.

"Persistent," Nebula hissed, wiping blood from his lip.

"Learned from the best," Cain spat back, twisting around and slashing upward.

The blade connected with Nebula’s midsection, sending him skidding backward. The halo above him flickered for a moment, unstable.

Cain seized the chance. He fired a full barrage, forcing Nebula to block. The air between them rippled from the impact, the ground cracking open under the pressure.

For several seconds, it was nothing but light and sound.

Then Nebula lunged again.

He reappeared midair, swinging a blade conjured from the halo itself. Cain caught it with {Eidwyrm}, sparks exploding between them. Their auras collided, red and gold flaring into a storm that tore through the clouds above.

"You can’t keep this up forever!" Nebula shouted.

"Then I’ll stop when you’re dead!"

They broke apart, circling. Both were breathing hard now, their movements less precise, more savage. Each strike carried enough energy to pulverize stone. The air around them shimmered from the accumulated heat.

Nebula’s grin twisted into something unhinged. "You really don’t get it. You think this is about strength. It’s about who burns out first."

Cain’s answer was another swing. The impact blew both of them backward.

They landed several meters apart, panting, surrounded by the ruins of their own making. The once-flat battlefield now resembled a cratered wasteland, the molten ground giving off a steady orange glow.

For a brief moment, neither moved.

Then Nebula chuckled lowly. "You’re starting to enjoy this, aren’t you?"

Cain’s expression darkened. "Enjoyment isn’t the word."

Nebula tilted his head. "Then what is?"

"Necessity."

The ground cracked beneath him as he launched forward. Their blades met again—once, twice, three times in rapid succession. Each clash carved shockwaves into the earth.

Cain’s movements became sharper, more deliberate. His strikes weren’t meant to kill—they were meant to disrupt. Each blow was followed by a faint pulse from his aura, forcing Nebula to compensate.

Nebula countered with pure aggression, using his tether to blink in and out of space around Cain. Every time he vanished, Cain was forced to anticipate, block, or deflect at the last second.

It became less of a duel and more of a storm.

Cain’s mind burned with focus. Every calculation, every reflex, every instinct sharpened to a single purpose: survive.

He swung upward again, meeting Nebula’s strike head-on. The explosion of energy that followed sent them both flying backward, tumbling across the battlefield.

Cain hit the ground first, rolling to a stop near the edge of a massive crater. He struggled to his feet, chest heaving, blood dripping freely from his wounds.

Nebula rose from the opposite side, cloak tattered, halo dimming. His smirk was gone now, replaced by something colder.