CHAPTER 106: SERIOUS MODE

Moments before the punch.

The man held Meg pinned against him, his arm tight around her waist, the other hand tangled in her hair. Her struggles were weakening, her breath coming in ragged gasps. He leaned closer, his face inches from hers.

A sound came from the ground behind him. A low groan.

He didn’t turn immediately. He kept his gaze locked on Meg’s wide, terrified eyes.

Another sound. A shifting of limbs on packed earth.

He glanced back over his shoulder.

Fin pushed himself up onto one knee, then slowly, unsteadily, to his feet. His left arm hung limp at his side, his right hand mangled. Blood dripped from his mouth, smearing his chin. His tunic was torn, scorched.

But his hair, previously brown, was now stark black, falling slightly over his forehead. His eyes weren’t brown, or silver, or shadow. They glowed with a steady, intense green light. Intricate, glowing green lines, like circuitry etched onto skin, snaked across his left arm from shoulder to fingertip, pulsing faintly.

He stood there, swaying slightly, but upright. He looked at the man holding Meg.

"Thanks," he said. His voice was different. Still flat, but with an underlying resonant hum, like contained power. "For the meal." He cracked his neck, the sound unnaturally loud in the sudden quiet. The broken bones in his shoulder shifted audibly but didn’t seem to hinder the movement. "Overloading me? Injecting all that mana directly?" A slow, cold smile spread across his face. "Bad idea."

The man stared, his grip on Meg tightening almost unconsciously. He felt a flicker of something unfamiliar. Not fear. Uncertainty. The energy signature rolling off the boy now... it wasn’t just the chaotic artifact anymore. It was...

Fin took a step forward.

BOOM.

The ground cracked under his foot. He exploded forward, crossing the ten feet between them in an instant, a blur of motion that left residual green trails hanging in the air.

The man reacted purely on instinct, shoving Meg sideways, trying to bring his arm up to block—

Too late.

Fin’s right fist, fingers still bent at wrong angles but surrounded by a condensed field of crackling green energy, slammed into the man’s jaw. The impact wasn’t just a crack; it was a detonation of force.

The man’s head snapped back with sickening violence. He flew backward, ripped from his feet as if hit by a cannonball. He tumbled through the air, limbs flailing uncontrollably, before crashing hard onto the packed earth twenty feet away near the edge of the training ground.

He didn’t move. His battered case detached from his shoulder, landing beside him with a soft thud.

Fin stood where the man had been, his fist still slightly extended, green energy flickering around it. He lowered his arm slowly. The broken fingers straightened themselves out with faint clicking sounds, reforming under the glow. His mangled right hand looked whole again. His left shoulder rolled, bones grating then setting with another click. He flexed his left arm. Functional.

He turned towards Meg. She stared at him, hand pressed to her mouth, eyes wide with shock, confusion, and a dawning relief. She stumbled back a step.

He walked over to where Arachne lay, still gasping on the ground, clutching her throat. He knelt beside her. Placed his hand, the one with the glowing green lines, gently on her bruised neck. The green light flowed into her. Her gasping eased, color returning to her face. She looked up at him, eyes filled with awe and pain.

"My lord."

He helped her sit up, then stood. He walked towards the spot where the man lay motionless. He stopped a few feet away, looking down.

The man wasn’t moving. His head lay at an unnatural angle. Whether he was unconscious or dead wasn’t immediately clear.

A low chuckle rattled from the man. It turned into a cough, then another chuckle, weak but definite.

He pushed himself up slightly, propping himself on one elbow. His head lolled, neck clearly broken, yet he moved. He looked up at Fin, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. His eyes, previously flat and emotionless, now held a spark of something different. Amusement? Respect?

"Heh," the man rasped, spitting out a bloody tooth. "That’s more like it." He coughed again, a wet sound. "That’s what I expected... from a King."

Fin stiffened slightly. His head tilted fractionally. Kings. Again. How did this man know that term?

Before he could react further, an invisible force slammed into his chest. It wasn’t a punch, not energy, just pure kinetic impact. He flew backward, hitting the packed earth hard ten feet away. He didn’t tumble or crash; instinct made him absorb the impact, bending his knees, letting his body slide smoothly across the ground like he was on ice, kicking up a spray of dirt. He came to a stop in a low crouch, hand flat on the ground for balance, eyes locked on the man.

The man was already pushing himself to his feet. His broken neck straightened with an audible series of clicks and pops, vertebrae realigning. He rolled his shoulders, rotating his head left and right as if testing the repair. He ignored the blood still smeared on his chin.

He reached down, not for his fallen case, but slapped his own thigh. His hand came away holding something new. A weapon materialized in his grip, coalescing from seemingly nowhere. It looked like a bat, thick and dark, maybe obsidian or some black metal, carved with intricate red runes that pulsed with a faint, internal light. It felt wrong, the air around it distorting slightly.

"Let’s try this again," the man said, his voice regaining its low, rough quality. He hefted the dark bat, testing its weight.

Fin pushed himself fully upright. He held out his right hand, palm up. The green energy around him swirled, converging towards his open hand. Light condensed, solidified, elongating rapidly. It formed into a simple staff pole, about six feet long, glowing with the same steady green light as the lines on his arm.

No ornamentation, just smooth, solid energy. He gripped it firmly, the light warm against his palm.

The man grinned, a tight, predatory expression. He gripped the runed bat in both hands and charged. His steps were heavy, deliberate, pounding against the earth.

Fin met the charge. He pushed off the ground, the green staff held ready, angled slightly downwards. He didn’t explode forward with overwhelming speed this time, but moved with focused, controlled momentum.

They met head-on near the center of the training ground.

The green energy staff slammed against the dark, rune-etched bat.

KRA-THOOM!

The impact was deafening. Not just the sharp crack of energy meeting solid force, but a deeper concussion that followed fractions of a second later. A shockwave erupted outwards from the point of contact, visible as a distortion ripping through the air.

Dust and loose earth blasted away from them in a rapidly expanding circle. The ground beneath their feet cracked. The wooden weapon racks lining the edge of the training ground rattled violently, some tumbling over. Even the distant stone walls of the castle seemed to hum faintly from the force.