CHAPTER 172: CHAPTER 172 - THE RECKLESS MOVE

The air trembled with a suffocating weight as corrupted mana surged from the cloaked figure like a storm of shadows. Luca’s grip tightened around his twin sabers—one black, one white—the blades glinting faintly under the wavering torchlight of the mountain rocks. His breath was ragged, chest rising and falling as sweat rolled down his temple.

The cloaked figure stood still, hands empty, yet each movement radiated a monstrous pressure. Dark energy coiled around his limbs, bending the very air as though reality itself strained against him.

Then he struck.

A blur—faster than Luca’s eye could track. An open palm, aimed at his chest.

Luca’s pupils constricted, time itself shuddering. The world slowed to a crawl, shadows stretching long as he forced his body to move through the thickness of suspended reality. His sabers crossed, intercepting the blow just inches from his heart. Even slowed, the force was immense, hurling him back across the stone floor. Stone cracked under his boots as he slid ten meters, digging in to stop.

Damn it... he’s not giving me a single opening.

The cloaked figure chuckled, a low, screeching rasp that grated against the ears. "You’re still breathing? Intriguing."

Luca’s lips pulled into a sharp grin despite the throbbing pain in his arms. "Disappointed? Can’t kill me that easily, can you?"

Without answering, the figure blurred forward again. Bare hands cutting through the air like blades, each strike backed by waves of corrupted mana. Luca barely kept pace, his sabers flashing arcs of silver and shadow as he deflected, dodged, twisted—every ounce of his time-slowing ability focused on survival.

The pressure was suffocating. Each attack threatened to break bone or tear him apart.

And still—Luca’s eyes flicked, just briefly, to Aurelia.

Not far behind him, her crimson hair whipped in violent arcs as her spear carved a bloody path through the mob of cultists. Her breaths came heavy, movements sharper and more desperate with every cut. Her shoulder already bled from a shallow gash, but she pressed on—her spear spinning, thrusting, sweeping with merciless precision. Two cultists fell, then three more. But for every one she killed, another lunged at her from the shadows.

Luca’s chest burned as he gritted his teeth. I don’t have time. She’s outnumbered—and I can’t waste myself here.

The cloaked figure’s hand whistled past his ear, a hair’s breadth from tearing it off. Luca ducked low, rolling aside as another strike shattered stone where his head had been.

He lashed upward, sabers crossing in a deadly arc. For the first time, his blades grazed the cloak—sparks of corrupted energy hissing out as if even steel hated touching it.

The figure didn’t flinch. Didn’t bleed. Didn’t even react.

Instead, that voice scraped out again. "A pest that refuses to die... amusing."

Luca’s smirk faltered into frustration. Not even a scratch. He’s toying with me. Waiting. But why?

The air grew heavier, corrupted mana thickening like tar, choking every breath. And yet Luca stood firm, sabers raised, body trembling—not with fear, but with burning defiance.

"Yeah?" he muttered under his breath, eyes narrowing. "Let’s see how long you keep laughing."

The corrupted air rippled, thick with mana that hissed like acid against Luca’s skin. His twin sabers spun in his grip, white and black gleaming faintly against the void-like backdrop of the cloaked figure. Their movements were almost invisible, each clash erupting in a thunderclap of energy. Luca’s breath came ragged, sweat mixing with the faint smear of blood on his lips.

"Hahahahaha..." his laughter tore through the chaos, sharp and mocking as his sabers twirled in an arc. "It seems you’re not as carefree as you want me to believe."

The cloaked man tilted his head, the distorted shriek of his voice cutting through the noise. "Hmm?"

"You could have ended me already—yet you haven’t. You’re not showing me a single opening." Luca’s smirk sharpened as he twisted his blades into a guard stance, eyes locked onto the figure. "That means... you’re careful too. You’re stalling for something."

The figure froze mid-strike, a slight pause, then its voice slithered like a blade across Luca’s ears. "You are not a fool, it seems. But what can you do, even if I am stalling for time?"

The air trembled. Luca lunged, sabers flashing, forcing the man to deflect again with bare hands wreathed in corrupted mana. Sparks of black and silver scattered across the ground, burning holes in the stone.

"Tch..." Luca’s mind screamed as he barely slipped past another crushing blow, slowing the world just enough to dodge by a hair’s breadth. There’s no other choice...

His crimson eyes narrowed, and with a reckless grin, he twisted his body—lowering his guard completely.

The cloaked man’s arm lashed forward like a spear.

Now!

Luca’s sabers moved in a suicidal arc, not to block, but to invite the strike. The corrupted hand tore across his abdomen, rending flesh in a savage gash. Pain exploded through him, hot and searing, blood spraying across the battlefield. His body threatened to collapse.

But in that same instant—

"Moonslayer!"

He roared through clenched teeth, both sabers glowing with a crescent of silver-white light. He slashed outward in a blinding arc, tearing across the figure’s chest. The crescent moon carved through the corrupted darkness, splitting the battlefield in radiant brilliance.

The cloaked man staggered, body flickering in and out of existence, fragments of his form warping and twisting like broken glass. His shriek echoed as if torn between worlds.

Luca stumbled back, hand pressed against the wide gash across his abdomen, blood soaking his clothes as his vision blurred. The power of his Moonslayer still vibrated through the ground, burning silver scars into the earth.

And before his blurred vision,Cracks spidered across his borrowed flesh; the cloak flickered like a failing projection.

The air reeked of scorched mana and blood. Luca’s knees threatened to buckle, but he held his sabers firm, eyes still locked onto the cloaked figure flickering in and out of sight like a shadow barely tethered to this world. His abdomen burned with searing agony, the shallow but wide gash spilling crimson through his robes.

"Lucaaaaa!"

Aurelia’s voice tore through the haze of pain. She stumbled to his side, her breathing jagged, body marred with cuts and blood that trickled down her trembling arms. With tears welling in her eyes, she forced herself in front of him, her spear raised in a desperate shield. It seems she over exhausted herself and killed all the cultists to join Luca.

"You... you, why are you so reckless?" Her voice cracked, thick with anger and grief. "Was there any need for it? Couldn’t you simply wait for me?"

Luca didn’t answer her. His gaze never left the flickering figure before them, his bloodied lips curling faintly as he rasped out, "Uh, ah... y-you’re not... just a spatial expansion... are... are you?"

Aurelia’s head jerked back toward him, confusion cutting through her tears. "What are you saying, Luca?"

The cloaked figure froze. Then, for the first time, its distorted voice shrieked with something resembling amusement.

"Indeed... I am not. That suicidal strike of yours... it could’ve killed a spatial expansion, yes. And it did exhaust all my strength ,But..."

"Pahhh—" Luca spat out blood, his chest heaving, vision blurring. "It’s not... your real body, is it?"

Silence hung heavy for a heartbeat—before a ripple of surprise crept into the figure’s tone.

"...It seems you know more than you should."

Luca’s grip tightened around his sabers despite the pain splitting through him. His thoughts rang bitterly clear: There is only one... one who can create clones of their own...

The figure tilted its head ever so slightly, the air humming with unstable mana. "Next time, when I see you..." Its voice lowered to a cold, final edge. "...I will end you."

And then—it was gone. The space where it had stood cracked like broken glass, its form dissolving into nothing.

Luca collapsed, coughing more blood as the world spun. Next time... Second Demon General...

"Luca!" Aurelia’s cry split the twilight as she caught him, dragging his trembling frame into her arms, laying his head against her lap. Tears streamed down her dirt-streaked face, falling onto his pale skin. Her voice shook with helplessness.

"You... you idiot. How can I save you now? Why did you have to do it like this?"

Luca’s vision blurred, her face wavering in the haze of blood loss. Yet, through the crimson at the corner of his mouth, he managed the faintest smile. His voice was a whisper, weak but soft.

"You... you a-are n-not angry at me anymore?"