CHAPTER 53: IN JUST A SWING

"Shit, shit, shit..." Avin’s mind screamed as his crimson eyes locked onto the abyss scorpion looming before him. Its many jointed legs dug into the soil with a horrible krrchh-krrchh, the sound of its armored claws grinding against earth. Its cluster of eyes glimmered with unnatural hunger, their reflections of sunlight catching like shards of glass. Each slow twitch of its monstrous body seemed calculated, cruel, a predator savoring the dread of its prey.

Avin’s throat tightened. He knew this creature. He had died to it once. He had dreamt of its stinger piercing him again. And now here it was, standing before him not as a nightmare but as raw, breathing, hunting reality.

He willed power into his eyes. Energy surged. His irises flared into a burning crimson glow that bled against the dappled sunlight of the forest. The world sharpened—each detail crisp, each movement slower. For the first time, the abyss scorpion did not feel impossible.

The beast lunged.

Its armored bulk thundered forward, claws gouging furrows in the earth. The very air seemed to split as its stinger whipped through the space Avin had occupied. But this time, Avin’s body moved in sync with his sight. He dove right, rolling across damp soil, leaves and dirt clinging to his clothes.

He burst up running.

The forest closed around him in streaks of green and shadow. He sprinted between trunks, leaping over roots, forcing sharp turns left and right. His boots hammered the ground, lungs burning as he tried to weave confusion into his path.

But the beast did not relent. Its grotesque legs tore after him, relentless, unshaken by trees that cracked under its armored mass. The ground trembled under its pursuit, the sound of dozens of legs hammering at once echoing like an army’s march.

Avin’s chest heaved. His breath tore ragged. The strength in his legs waned with each stride.

I can’t keep this up. I’ll collapse before it does.

"Fuck this!" Avin spat, veering hard around a massive oak.

His hand shot to the sword strapped at his side. Steel whispered against steel as he drew it. He pressed his back to the rough bark, heart pounding.

The beast surged around the tree, expecting him to flee again. Its momentum betrayed it.

Avin’s blade flashed low.

SHHHRNK!

Two of the monster’s eight legs sheared away in an explosion of ichor. The severed limbs twitched grotesquely as they hit the ground, spasming like dying fish.

The scorpion toppled, momentum slamming it into a nearby tree with a thunderous CRRRAACK. Bark exploded, splinters showering the air. Its screech ripped through the forest, a piercing metallic shriek that clawed at Avin’s ears.

He didn’t hesitate. He lunged forward, blade raised high, and struck again.

Another leg severed. Another spray of black blood.

The creature writhed, staggering in panicked disarray. For a moment Avin thought he had it—until the world shifted again.

A blur.

The stinger snapped around with impossible speed, a blur of venom-tipped death.

Avin barely had time to raise his sword.

CLANG!

Steel clashed against chitin. Sparks sprayed like stars across the forest floor. The impact hurled Avin backwards. His spine slammed against a tree trunk. Bark tore into his back, the air blasted from his lungs.

He gasped, vision spinning. The beast, crippled but far from defeated, turned its gaze on him.

It lunged, using its embedded stinger like a spear to brace its body, dragging itself forward with terrifying power despite its missing legs.

Avin’s crimson eyes widened. He threw himself left—just enough.

The stinger struck the tree where his skull had been.

THUNK!

The sharpened tip buried itself deep into the trunk, the wood splintering violently. Mere centimeters from his face, the weapon quivered, dripping venom that hissed against the bark.

"Shit..." Avin breathed, sweat pouring down his face.

He staggered away as the beast strained. But crippled as it was, it couldn’t free itself quickly. Its legs scrabbled, its body lurched in desperate jerks.

Avin saw it. The opening.

This is it. My only chance.

He forced his ragged breath into something steady. His grip on the sword tightened. He could feel the beat of his heart in his hands, the thrum of energy coursing into the steel.

The weapon felt alive, an extension of his own body.

Words he didn’t know he remembered spilled from his lips. The spell.

The world ignited.

Energy erupted from him in a shockwave, rattling the leaves, sending dust flying. His body surged with unnatural power, his muscles straining under newfound strength.

He looked at the sword—and gasped.

It had changed.

No longer the simple weapon Leo had given him, the blade now gleamed a furious gold. Red inscriptions glowed along its length, alive with shifting light. The Chrono crest blazed crimson on the guard. Two golden rings spun around the blade in opposing directions, so fast they blurred into streaks, creating the illusion of a constant shimmering storm.

The sword was larger, broader, scraping near the ground—yet impossibly light, weightless in his grip.

It felt... right. As though his hands had always known it.

The beast shrieked in fury, wrenching itself free at last. With a violent pull it tore the tree up by its roots and hurled it aside, smashing the trunk against the ground until it shattered into splinters.

It turned back toward Avin, stinger raised high, body barreling forward like a runaway avalanche. Trees snapped before it, trunks splintering as it crashed through without hesitation.

Avin inhaled. His crimson eyes burned like fire.

He raised the golden blade.

And swung.

The slash ripped reality.

For a heartbeat, silence. The scorpion kept charging. Its body reached him, shadow looming—

And then it split.

The monster’s armored bulk divided from shoulder to stinger, cleaved cleanly in two. The halves slid past him, collapsing to the ground with a thunderous crash.

Then the delayed impact came.

The air itself split with a deafening roar. A shockwave blasted outward from Avin’s strike, a gale tearing leaves from branches, toppling weakened trunks. The line of the slash carved a scar across the forest, trees cleaving cleanly as if cut by a god’s hand.

Avin staggered, chest heaving, sweat dripping into his eyes. His gaze fixed on the bisected beast at his feet.

"In just... a swing," he whispered, voice trembling.

The golden brilliance began to fade. The blade shrank, inscriptions vanishing, rings dissolving like mist. It returned to its ordinary form, plain and unassuming.

But Avin knew.

Nothing about what had just happened was ordinary.