CHAPTER 67: THE FALSE MIRACLE

Swoosh!

A sharp horizontal slash cut through the air where Quinn had been standing a second ago.

She twisted on her heel, her body moving with practiced grace. Using the rotation’s momentum, she swung her heavy club sideways with both hands, the air trembling under its force.

Oken twirled his sword smoothly, shifting from his missed slash. In one swift motion, the dull edge flipped to the sharp side, ready to meet the oncoming blow.

The moment their weapons met, a thunderous clang rang out.

Sparks, brown from Quinn’s aura and crimson from Oken’s, erupted where steel met wood, scattering around them like wild fireflies.

The ground beneath them cracked and dented, unable to withstand the pressure.

All around, both orcs and humans had already backed away. No one dared to step closer, the air between Quinn and Oken was thick and dangerous, every clash sending shockwaves that rippled through the battlefield.

Oken’s arms trembled. His jaw tightened as he felt the overwhelming force pushing against his blade. His eyes widened, this was no ordinary strength.

Quinn caught his look and smirked.

The next instant, Oken leapt backward, his boots grinding against the dirt just as Quinn’s brown aura flared violently, devouring his crimson. He barely steadied his footing; his sword still shook in his hand.

A bead of sweat slid from his neatly combed hair. "Your aura output... it’s beyond the intermediate level," he said, scanning her with a hint of disbelief.

Quinn rolled her shoulders casually, her club resting against the ground. "My husband always told me I have the mana output of a Master (V)," she said with a grin, "but my control’s too unstable. So it feels more like an Intermediate’s force."

Quinn’s mastery of aura was what made her sit at intermediate level while the output she can manage has already exceeded her tier.

Oken chuckled softly, regaining his composure. "That’s unfortunate," he said, tone laced with false sympathy. "If not for your cursed birth, we might have taken you in... trained you properly."

Her brow twitched, just slightly, but enough to show it hit a nerve.

Oken tilted his head. "Since you’ve got a husband," he said mockingly, "should I call you Mrs. then? Or maybe Madam?"

Quinn’s grin widened, slowly, dangerously. "Oh, Oken," she said, voice low and calm, "call me whatever you like. After all..." she raised her head, her eyes gleaming under the flicker of brown lightning behind her, "...today will be the last time you’ll need to keep up that decent act of yours."

Her aura exploded upward, brown light crackling, blurring her features.

Oken raised his thin sword vertically, its gleaming edge resting between his sharp eyes. In that moment, the air behind him rippled.

Multiple crimson sabers shimmered into existence, each one transparent and glowing with a deadly aura. They hung above him like predatory birds waiting to dive.

This was Oken’s Divine Gift,Saber Swords (A).

Each spectral blade was forged entirely from his aura, every one of them carrying power equal to his mastery.

The old man’s elegant black suit began to dissolve, threads turning liquid and dripping from him.

The shimmering fabric reformed into a thin, translucent layer of water that clung tightly to his body — Aqua Regia, the corrosive armor of a two-cirlce water attribute mana user.

Quinn’s grin widened as she cracked her neck.

"Going all out, are we?" she said lightly, though her eyes glowed with anticipation.

Her hand brushed against the thick wooden trunk beside her. The wood trembled, its surface twisted and folded as if alive, then reshaped into a massive, round shield, bark hardening like iron.

Her Divine Gift, Reconstruct (B), allowed her to reshape matter at will.

It was this same power, when combined with Tugnier’s Engineer (A+), that had turned a cluster of empty caves into a settlement for around 1000 orcs they now called home.

Tugnier built the raw structures; Quinn molded them into livable shapes; Tugnier then fused them into one solid, enduring creation. Together, they were unstoppable builders.

And today, that gift was her line of defense.

Oken’s crimson aura surged again, mingling with the cool blue hue of his mana. Water spears and saber blades formed around him in a storm of energy.

Blood streamed from his nose, his body trembling from overuse, but his eyes blazed with mad focus.

"Hey, hey!" Quinn called out, grinning. "You’ll die before I even get the chance to kill you."

"Unlike you veil creatures," Oken spat, his voice stripped of its earlier elegance, "we have God’s grace. The priests will heal me long before I fall."

His once refined face twisted with hatred. His respectful, noble slang long gone.

Then, in one swift motion, he leveled his sword toward her, and his entire arsenal descended.

Quinn reacted instantly. The ground beneath her rumbled as multiple wooden shields sprouted up, locking together like armor plates. The first wave of saber swords smashed into them, shattering them like glass.

Explosions of crimson light and acidic water tore through the battlefield.

Hisssss! The acidic water ate through the shields, melting the bark into black, steaming sludge.

Quinn blurred out of sight just before another saber sword struck. Her brown aura flared in rapid bursts, the heat and energy from her movement turning the sand below her to glass.

Sparks of aura clashed midair as she dodged and twisted between the floating blades.

Each time her brown sparks struck the water spears, they detonated into vapor. But the saber swords... they felt alive, thinking.

They darted and swirled through her defenses like predators hunting prey.

Quinn jumped high, landing on one of the thick wooden trunks she had reshaped instantly.

Using Reconstruct, she made wood rise beneath her in spiral, launching herself higher into the air.

But Oken didn’t stay grounded either. He vanished in a crimson blur, crimson sparks spreading through out the length of the wooden spiral as he appeared right behind her.

"Shit," Quinn hissed under her breath.

The old man crouched low on the trunk, his posture calm, both hands gripping the hilt of his sheathed sword. The aura gathering around him vibrated the air itself.

Before he could strike, Quinn stomped on the trunk and used Reconstruct.

A thick branch shot upward from beneath Oken’s feet, slamming into his arm just as he drew his sword.

The mana slash that should’ve split Quinn in two instead shot straight upward, slicing through one of his own saber swords.

"Tch!" Oken clicked his tongue, frustrated, and vanished again.

In the blink of an eye, he reappeared right in front of her, his sword and all the remaining saber swords aligned toward her chest.

His aura flared so violently that his human outline blurred into something almost demonic.

Quinn slammed her club into the ground below.

In response, spiraling walls of wood erupted from the trunk, wrapping tightly around her. Each layer pulsed with brown aura, forming a cocoon-like fortress.

Oken wasn’t done. His Aqua Regia armor condensed, slithering along his skin until it pooled at his fingertips. He thrust his palm forward, and the corrosive liquid splattered against the wooden fortress.

Tssss... The wood hissed and melted away, holes opening like acid burns, but every time a gap appeared, new layers grew from within.

Oken growled and hurled his saber swords all at once.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

The explosion of energy blasted the wooden structure apart, splinters flying everywhere.

And from within the shattered barrier, Quinn stood, her brown aura sparking fiercely.

Oken’s lips curled into a grin. He charged, his sword wreathed in red lightning.

The moment he pierced through the dust, Quinn swung her club upward, a low-to-high vertical slash, hurling a brown mana wave straight at him.

The slash hit, but Oken didn’t stop.

He took it head-on. His aura screamed, his sleeves shredded, and cuts opened all over his arm.

"What..." Quinn’s eyes widened. "He tanked it..?"

Oken didn’t even flinch. Blood flew off his arms as he lunged forward like a mad beast.

Their weapons clashed one final time.

CRACK!

The crimson sparks exploded point-blank. The force launched Quinn backward like a rag doll.

She slammed into the wooden wall behind her, Thud! cracking it apart.

"Ughh!" she gasped as pain rippled through her body. The wall broke under her weight, and she tumbled down, landing hard on the trunk below.

Gritting her teeth, Quinn pushed herself up to her feet, her club shaking in her hands.

But Oken was in more mugged form as his arm, a mangled ruin of muscle and bone, swung wildly through the air.

Blood painted streaks across the trunk as it dripped from the shattered limb.

Quinn watched, a faint amusement playing on her lips.

"I have never seen an idiot tank a mana slash just to push me back."

The sixty-year-old man, his face a mask of pain, only grinned.

A wet cough racked his chest, splattering blood onto his rugged suit.

He had taken the full force of her attack without even a scrap of armor, his internal organs screaming from the impact.

Quinn felt no remorse, only a cold pity.

"You veil creature can never understand god’s grace." He panted, his breath ragged. A manic light entered his eyes.

"Just how god’s grace shines upon us through our sacred priests!" He threw his other hand skyward, his voice rising to a fever pitch.

A bright green circle bloomed beneath him, its light pulsing with an unnatural energy.

Oken’s grin stretched wider.

Quinn merely sighed.

As the green glow pulsed, the shattered bones of Oken’s arm began to knit. Torn cells on his skin swelled, then reformed, weaving themselves back into flesh.

"Hahah!" A guttural laugh tore from his throat. "This is god’s grace!" Bliss suffused his features, eyes glazed over.

"You never change, do you?" Quinn’s voice held a flat, weary tone.

Her club melted back into the dark trunk beneath her, disappearing from sight.

Oken’s brow furrowed, confusion clouding his euphoria. Why did she put her weapon away?

The thought barely registered as the reforming cells on his arm began to twist.

They bulged, unsightly beads of flesh erupting from the smooth skin, then deformed further, growing bulbous.

"Wh-what’s this?" His voice hitched. The beaded deformities spread upward, creeping along the length of his arm.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Oken’s good hand flashed out, severing the corrupted limb at the shoulder.

Blood erupted, a crimson geyser, emptying from the wound like a barrel overturned.

He panted, staggering, then looked down from the trunk where he stood.

Below, on the battlefield, a horror unfolded. Soldiers, who are wounded and have a bright green circle beneath them watched their injuries contort.

The deformities spread, engulfing their bodies. Then, with wet, sickening blups, they exploded, splattering gore across the ground.

"What’s happening?" Oken mumbled, a fresh trickle of blood escaping his lips.

"Ahckk!" He choked, coughing out a mouthful of blood as his knees buckled.

Quinn smirked, a cruel twist of her lips. "What’s that? God’s grace?" She teased.

Pain overwhelmed Oken’s senses, blurring his vision, making sense impossible.

"The particles of prismal conduit," Quinn began, her voice low, almost conversational.

Oken’s eyes widened, a flicker of recognition, then disbelief. How did she know?

"They convert life force to holy mana that help in, umm, what did he call it again? Neo-genesis?" Quinn mused, recalling Rune’s words.

"But tamper it a bit, and what should have been controlled neo-genesis now becomes uncontrolled." Oken’s remaining arm trembled, his body convulsing.

"And your own mana rejects the uncontrolled activity," Quinn continued, her grin widening. "Exploding from within."

She moved with a predator’s grace, her hand closing around Oken’s head, her fingers tangling in his old, silver hair.

"Now then, I’ll be taking this."

"No... please..." His voice was a desperate plea. His head began to stretch, elongating, deforming.

"What kind of "veil creature" listens to pleas?" Quinn’s grin stretched, revealing sharp, pointed teeth.

Splash.

Blood splattered, a geyser of crimson, as Oken’s head tore from his body in an asymmetric, ragged tear.