CHAPTER 351: CHAPTER 350: THE WRATH UNLEASHED

Hadric didn’t answer. His eyes sharpened as mana and Qi surged through him, flowing into perfect rhythm.

’Twin Moons Flow.’

His blades moved like twin streams of light, one guarding, the other striking. Each step flowed into the next, calm yet relentless.

Sigvar howled and swung again, his greatsword cutting wide arcs that split the air. Hadric twisted aside, spinning in close. His left sword flashed with green light as it slid across the Viking’s ribs, while his right slashed across Sigvar’s shoulder in one fluid motion.

Blood splattered the mud. Sigvar staggered, then threw his head back and laughed. "Hah! That’s it! Show me more, Duke!"

Hadric exhaled slowly, eyes cold.

’Yin-Yang Severance Art.’

His blades shifted, one dimming with cold light, the other burning bright with heat. The Yin blade sliced through the air, freezing Sigvar’s movements and dulling his energy flow. The Yang blade followed, bursting with explosive Qi that shattered his defenses and broke through his guard.

Sigvar stumbled back, a deep gash forming across his chest where Hadric’s blade had found flesh and bone. Blood sprayed through the rain, and still, the Viking grinned as if the pain only made him stronger.

"You think that will stop me?" Sigvar roared, wiping blood from his mouth. He spat to the side, grinning through the pain.

Hadric stepped forward. His strikes came fast and sure. Each blow pushed Sigvar back, cutting through his guard, carving more red lines across his chest and arms. The discipline of a Knight and the grace of Qi merged into one, every motion carrying the weight of both worlds.

Yet.... the Viking only laughed, his voice booming across the field. "More!" Sigvar bellowed. "Show me more!"

Then the air around him began to change. The blue-green tattoos on his skin pulsed with light, glowing brighter with every heartbeat. The hum turned into a low, growling vibration that seemed to shake the ground itself.

Sigvar threw his head back and roared. The markings on his body flared, and veins of light raced across his skin.

The sky darkened in answer. Clouds rolled in thick and fast, swallowing the sun until the world turned gray. The first drops of rain fell heavy. Then came the downpour, turning the field into a sea of mud and blood.

.....

"It’s Captain Sigvar’s skill!" a Viking shouted, his voice trembling between fear and awe.

Sigvar drove his greatsword deep into the soaked earth and roared. The storm answered. Lightning split the sky, and his tattoos flared with divine light. Each thunderclap seemed to pour more power into him, his body drinking in the storm like a beast reborn.

"You’re all dead!" the Vikings cried out, their voices rising in wild joy. Laughter and bloodlust mixed into a terrible chorus as the ground shook beneath their feet. Behind Sigvar, the storm swirled into a spiraling halo of lightning and wind, framing him like a wrathful god.

Hadric’s men fought on, their breaths ragged, their faces pale under the flashes of light.

Knight Corven, locked in combat with two Vikings, caught one axe on his blade and kicked its wielder backward. His eyes darted toward the Duke, where the storm raged brightest. His grip tightened on his sword. Even though he trusted his lord completely, that power, the kind that could shake the heavens made his heart clench with unease.

.....

Back on the hill, where lightning danced around them, Hadric and Sigvar clashed once more.

Sigvar swung his greatsword down, but this time, it wasn’t just brute strength, it carried the fury of a storm. Wind howled around him, tearing through the ground, splintering stone, and hurling mud and blood in every direction.

Hadric held his stance. But every clash sent shockwaves through his body, forcing him back a step each time.

Sigvar grinned through the downpour, eyes burning with wild joy. "Is that all you’ve got, Duke? You’re supposed to be the great one!"

Hadric said nothing. His gaze sharpened. Qi and mana rippled across his body, the two forces merging into one seamless flow. His breathing slowed, then, in a blink, he vanished.

A gust of wind burst where he had stood. Sigvar’s grin faltered, his eyes darting.

Too late.

Hadric appeared beside him, blades already moving.

’Thousand Blades Mirage.’

Steel sang as his swords blurred into a storm of light. Each swing carried precision and fury, every arc slicing through air and flesh alike. Within that radius, everything was shredded, mud, rain, and even the storm’s wind bent to his will.

One blade tore across Sigvar’s ribs; the other sank deep into his shoulder. More cuts followed, relentless and sharp, until blood poured freely down the Viking’s chest.

Sigvar staggered, his knees dipping for the first time. Yet even bleeding and broken, he laughed, a defiant sound swallowed by thunder. His body, carved and battered, still refused to fall.

Hadric gritted his teeth, his body trembling from exhaustion. He forced more qi into his veins, golden light flaring around him like a dying sun refusing to fade.

Their weapons met one last time. The clash tore through the battlefield, splitting the ground beneath them. A deafening blast followed, mud, stone, and rain exploding outward as both men were thrown apart.

Hadric hit the ground hard. His armor cracked, his body bleeding from countless cuts. The world spun around him, the roar of the storm fading until all he could hear was the faint beat of his heart.

’Is this it?’ he thought, his vision blurring. ’Am I finally falling here? My comrades... my family... I’m coming home.’

"DUKE HADRIC!"

A voice tore through the haze. Corven’s figure burst through the rain, sprinting toward him. Behind him, the Duke’s elite martial artists charged, intercepting Sigvar as the Viking lunged forward for the killing blow.

"Protect the Duke!" Corven roared, locking blades with the berserking giant.

Hadric could only watch, helpless, as his men threw themselves into the storm. One after another, they fell, cut down easily and crushed, but none retreated. Each one bought him another heartbeat of life.

"No!" Hadric shouted, forcing himself up on trembling arms. But his strength failed him, his body too battered to obey.

"Retreat! Fall back to the town!" the officers cried, their voices nearly lost beneath the thunder.

Through the sheets of rain, the Duke’s banner began to pull away. Soldiers dragged the wounded, carrying their broken lord with them. Behind them, the storm raged on, Sigvar’s laughter echoing through the downpour, wild and godlike, as if the heavens themselves mocked their retreat.