Light's Released || Episode 3: The Apex Of Power

  Valtrax’s amber eyes bore into him, a look of disgust curling his lips as he took slow, deliberate steps toward Aven. The massive beast’s chains rattled like thunder as it moved. Aven could feel the weight of Valtrax’s presence pressing down on him, like an overwhelming force that threatened to crush him at any moment. The wind, now heavy with the lingering scent of blood and fire, whistled through the jagged cracks in the ruined base he worked hard to capture.

  Valtrax's golden eyes narrowed, his expression twisting into one of contempt. The glow of the surrounding flames reflected off his jagged, obsidian-like scales as he loomed over Aven, each word dripping with disdain.

  "It seems you don’t know as well," Valtrax growled, his voice low and sharp, cutting through the chaos like a blade. He let out a short, derisive chuckle before clicking his tongue in irritation. "Tch. It seems like your precious Sun God has decided to meddle, shielding you from what should have been certain death."

  His massive form shifted closer, his shadow engulfing Aven entirely, the oppressive weight of his mana pressing down harder with each step. Valtrax's lips curled into a wicked sneer, his jagged teeth glinting in the flickering light of the flames.

  "But don’t think for a second that his intervention will save you," he continued, his voice rising, each word a promise of destruction. "No divine interference will stop me from tearing you apart, you Photia scum."

  Valtrax’s claws flexed, the sound of grinding metal echoing as they scraped against the scorched ground. The air grew colder despite the heat of the flames, the aura of death and power emanating from him choking any sense of hope. His disdainful gaze locked onto Aven, as though daring him to make a move—a futile gesture against the overwhelming force that stood before him.

  Before Aven could even react, a sharp, searing pain shot through his neck. Valtrax's claw, long and razor-sharp, had pierced clean through, the sheer force of it lifting him off the ground like a ragdoll. Aven's eyes widened in shock, his breath hitching as his hands instinctively clawed at the beast's massive arm, desperate to free himself.

  Valtrax held him aloft effortlessly, his expression one of cruel amusement, his golden eyes locking onto Aven's like a predator savoring its prey. Blood spilled freely from the wound, dripping down Aven's armor and pooling on the scorched earth below.

  Aven's body convulsed, his instincts fighting to stay alive as he gagged and choked, his mouth filling with the metallic taste of his own blood. Each attempt to draw breath came with agonizing difficulty, the warm liquid spilling from his lips in broken gasps.

  "Is this all the resolve you have?" Valtrax sneered, his tone mocking. He tilted his head lazily, as though bored by the struggle. "Your blood reeks of desperation. It's almost pathetic... but it’s amusing to see how hard you cling to life when it’s already slipping away."

  The beast gave a slight shake, causing Aven's body to jolt in the air, sending fresh waves of pain coursing through him. Blood continued to drip steadily from the wound, staining Valtrax's claw as he held him there, suspended, like a grim trophy.

  Aven’s struggle grew weaker as his strength ebbed away, his body slowly succumbing to the relentless pain. His vision blurred, but as he fought to cling to consciousness, his surroundings began to shift. The world around him turned a deep, oppressive blood red, as if reality itself were drenched in a crimson tide. Golden-yellow veins began to spiderweb across his vision, threading toward his irises with an unnatural glow that seemed alive.

  Then, he heard it. The voice.

  It was commanding yet calm, familiar yet distant, like a long-forgotten whisper echoing through eternity. It resonated through him, not with sound, but with absolute authority. Aven’s mind spun as he struggled to comprehend its origin, but there was no mistaking it. It called to him—not as a demand, but as a beckoning reminder of who he truly was.

  Behind him, he felt an overwhelming presence. Slowly, he turned—or perhaps his mind was simply forced to understand it. The figure was radiant, draped in a pure white robe so immaculate it seemed untouched by the crimson world. Its hood shrouded its face, yet the intensity of its amber-red eyes pierced through, commanding attention. It floated, regal and serene, as if untouched by mortal laws.

  Around them, the environment shifted in awe, warping subtly to acknowledge the being’s dominance. A silhouette of a massive wyvern clashed with that of a valiant knight in the distance, the two locked in a timeless struggle. The air was thick with meaning, with echoes of memories that were not Aven’s. He felt them flood into him—fragmented, overwhelming. Instincts sharpened like blades, honed over lifetimes he had never lived. Strategies he had never learned and victories that weren’t his filled his mind, building a sense of triumph even amidst despair.

  The voice echoed again, stronger this time, filling Aven with an undeniable resolve.

  Time rewound suddenly. The pain of Valtrax’s claw disappeared, but the piercing wound remained, a haunting reminder of what had just occurred. Aven staggered slightly, his body still catching up to the shift. The crimson world stayed, the golden veins now fully illuminating his irises as though igniting a dormant power within him.

  Before he could process it, Valtrax roared, charging toward him with impossible speed for his size. The monstrous beast’s claw was aimed at Aven’s throat, ready to end him for good.

  But this time, everything was different.

  To Aven, the world moved like molasses, each motion dragging through the air as if bound by invisible threads. He could see every detail—the ripple of Valtrax’s muscles, the glint of blood on his claw, the cracks in the earth beneath his pounding feet.

  The attack came.

  Aven’s body reacted, not by thought, but by instinct that wasn’t his own. His foot shifted just slightly to the side, his frame twisting with a precision he didn’t know he possessed. Valtrax’s nail sliced through the air mere inches from his neck, missing by a hair’s breadth. Aven felt the rush of wind from the strike but stood unharmed, his breathing steady despite the chaos around him.

  The crimson environment flickered, the golden veins pulsing with energy. Aven’s newfound clarity made the impossible seem achievable, and for the first time, Valtrax’s towering presence no longer seemed insurmountable.

  Valtrax's amber eyes widened in disbelief, then narrowed sharply as they analyzed Aven's form. He had expected the human to fall, to be crushed under the weight of his wounds and limitations. Yet here he stood—his body battered, blood streaming freely from the gaping wound in his neck—but there was something... unshakable about him now. A force Valtrax couldn’t define.

  The transformation in Aven’s presence was impossible to ignore. His light armor, torn and battered, dissolved into nothingness, replaced by a flowing crimson trench coat that seemed to materialize out of the very air. The coat was unlike anything mortal craftsmanship could produce. Its surface shimmered faintly, and its edges were adorned with runic patterns that pulsed softly, resonating with a power far beyond human comprehension. The fabric moved with an almost organic fluidity, as if alive, shifting in harmony with Aven’s every breath and step.

  In his grasp appeared the All Handed Blade, summoned not by movement but by sheer will.

  The 2 handed greatsword materialized with an almost deafening hum, its massive form crackling with raw, otherworldly energy.

  The blade was forged from a dark, unearthly metal that reflected no light yet glowed faintly with a deep, crimson hue.

  Veins of golden energy coursed through the sword, illuminating the intricate carvings along its massive surface—symbols that seemed to shift and change as if they were alive.

  The hilt was broad and sturdy, wrapped in a material that seemed both ancient and indestructible.

  The weapon's sheer size dwarfed any ordinary blade, its edge impossibly sharp and exuding a menacing presence that warped the very air around it.

  Valtrax’s lips curled into a snarl, his sharp teeth gleaming in the eerie light of the battlefield. His towering frame trembled, not with fear, but with raw frustration and anger. He could feel it—the shift in the balance of power. The human who had been moments from death now radiated an aura that rivaled the ancient wyvern’s own.

  “This… This is impossible,” Valtrax growled, his deep voice reverberating like thunder. His amber eyes flickered between Aven’s new form and the monstrous greatsword now in his grasp. “You should be nothing more than a corpse at my feet! What are you?! What is that blade?!”

  Aven’s silence was deafening. His gaze locked onto Valtrax, the golden veins in his crimson-irised eyes pulsing steadily with a rhythm that seemed almost otherworldly. The wound in his neck no longer bled as freely, the crimson coat’s collar shifting to obscure it partially, as if the garment itself sought to preserve its wearer.

  He raised the All Handed Blade, its sheer weight causing the ground beneath him to crack and quake slightly, though Aven’s grip remained steady. The runic patterns on the blade shimmered brighter as if responding to his intent. He could feel it—the memories of countless warriors, the instincts of seasoned veterans, and the triumphs of battles long past coursing through his veins. They were not his own, yet they were now a part of him.

  Valtrax took a step forward, his massive clawed feet sinking into the ground with each thunderous movement. The chains around his body rattled furiously, their ancient restraints struggling to contain the immense power within.

  “Do you think a fancy coat and a bigger sword make you a match for me?” Valtrax sneered, though his voice betrayed a hint of uncertainty. “I’ve crushed armies, torn through gods, and burned entire civilizations to ash. You are nothing compared to my wrath!”

  Aven’s grip on the sword tightened, his body moving with an unnatural calm as he took a single step forward. The ground beneath his boots seemed to pulse, reacting to his presence. The crimson world around him sharpened, the oppressive atmosphere pressing harder on Valtrax than it did on Aven.

  “I am nothing compared to you,” Aven said finally, his voice steady but laced with an edge of defiance. “But the memories in this blade? The instincts it’s given me? The power I now hold?” He lifted the All Handed Blade, pointing its massive edge toward the wyvern. “Those are more than enough to bring you down.”

  Valtrax let out an ear-splitting roar, his body igniting with a fiery glow as he prepared to charge. His wings unfurled, sending waves of scorching heat through the air, and his claws flexed, eager to tear Aven apart.

  But Aven didn’t flinch. The golden veins in his eyes pulsed brighter, and his trench coat seemed to ripple with anticipation. As Valtrax launched himself forward, the ground quaking under his immense weight, Aven moved.

  Time slowed once more, the crimson-tinged world narrowing to the moment of impact. Aven’s blade met Valtrax’s claws with a deafening clash that shook the very foundations of reality. Sparks of golden and crimson energy erupted from the contact, illuminating the battlefield as the two forces collided.

  And for the first time, Valtrax felt resistance—true, unyielding resistance.

  The impact sent a shockwave rippling across the battlefield, a gust of wind so powerful it tore through the surroundings, kicking up debris and shaking the earth itself. The ground beneath their feet cracked and splintered, struggling to endure the force of their clash. To the outside observer, their movements would have been incomprehensible blurs, but to Aven and Valtrax, the world around them had slowed, unable to keep pace with their sheer speed and strength.

  Aven gripped the All Handed Blade tightly, his muscles taut as he focused on redirecting the immense force of Valtrax’s crushing punch. As the wyvern's colossal fist descended with the fury of a meteor, Aven angled the blade at a precise incline. The impact was monumental, sending vibrations coursing through his arms and legs, but instead of absorbing the force, he let it slide off the edge of the blade.

  The energy flowed seamlessly into a circular motion, Aven pivoting gracefully on his heel. The All Handed Blade became an extension of his body, carving through the air like an unrelenting tide. The blade arced toward Valtrax’s exposed side, the strike connecting with a force that pushed the massive wyvern back slightly.

  Valtrax let out a low, guttural growl, irritation flashing across his amber eyes. This power—this sudden surge of skill and strength radiating from the human—was pure nonsense. Even for a being of Valtrax’s simple and primal instincts, it was an affront to logic and reality.

  "Where is this coming from?!" Valtrax roared, his massive chest heaving as he raised his fist high, ready to deliver a punishing gut punch. The sheer size of the blow was enough to eclipse Aven entirely, a strike designed to pulverize anything in its path.

  Aven, unyielding, readied himself. He planted the All Handed Blade firmly into the ground, its tip digging into the fractured earth. As Valtrax’s fist came hurtling down, Aven swung the blade upward in a powerful, calculated arc. The edge met the fist mid-air, and the resulting clash sent a shockwave that forced Valtrax’s arm skyward, deflecting the crushing blow with a burst of raw power.

  Without hesitation, Aven shifted into a lunge stance. He gripped the All Handed Blade tightly, its crimson hue glowing brighter as if feeding off his will. With a single, powerful thrust, he drove the blade’s tip toward Valtrax’s abdomen.

  The blade didn’t pierce Valtrax’s unyielding obsidian scales, but the force of the strike reverberated through his body. Valtrax staggered, his roar filled with an unfamiliar sound—pain. The wyvern’s scales, though impenetrable, could not shield him from the searing agony coursing through his insides.

  "You… dare?!" Valtrax bellowed, his voice tinged with both fury and disbelief. The sheer absurdity of this moment—the human’s ability to make him feel pain—fueled his rage even further.

  But Aven stood firm, his golden-veined eyes locking onto Valtrax with unrelenting focus. His grip on the All Handed Blade tightened, and he prepared for the next move. The pain he had inflicted wasn’t just physical; it was a challenge, a statement that Valtrax was no longer the sole dominant force on this battlefield.

  Valtrax's amber eyes blazed with uncontained fury, his body responding to his wrath in a manner that transcended mortal comprehension. Each breath he exhaled grew heavier, rumbling like the growl of an approaching storm. The mana that coursed through his veins began to manifest visibly, spilling from his mouth in streams of crimson-tinged flame.

  The heat radiating from Valtrax was suffocating, warping the air around him as though the very fabric of reality bent to his will. His already massive, muscular frame began to thicken further, his sinews swelling and hardening with mana-infused power. Each movement seemed to pulse with barely restrained energy, the ground beneath him cracking and trembling under the weight of his sheer presence.

  Flames licked along his scales, clinging to them like a second skin. The mana within him surged, fueling the inferno with an intensity that made the air shimmer and distort. His claws grew sharper, longer, and more menacing, their edges glowing faintly as if forged in a divine fire.

  Valtrax's growls deepened, reverberating through the battlefield like an ominous drumbeat. The flames pouring from his breath intensified, spilling out in bursts with every exhalation. The mana flames began to coil around his fists and arms, wreathing them in an aura of destruction. The sight of this transformation was nothing short of apocalyptic—a being of raw, primal rage and unstoppable power.

  "YOU INSIGNIFICANT WRETCH!" Valtrax bellowed, his voice shaking the very ground as he glared down at Aven. The wyvern’s fury now transcended words; it was a force of nature, an unstoppable hurricane of wrath and mana-fueled destruction.

  As Valtrax took a single step forward, the ground beneath him shattered, molten fissures spreading outwards as if the earth itself recoiled in fear. Each step carried the promise of devastation, the weight of his anger now tangible in the air.

  Aven, though battered and bloodied, stood firm, his grip on the All Handed Blade unwavering. The oppressive heat and suffocating pressure of Valtrax’s mana flames bore down on him, but his golden-veined eyes remained locked on the monstrous figure before him.

  The stage was set for a clash of titans—an unrelenting force against an immovable will.

  Aven readied himself, but Valtrax's sheer speed outpaced even his newly acquired instincts. Before he could react, Valtrax's massive knee struck him with devastating force, sending him rolling across the dirt-strewn battlefield. Aven managed to steady himself mid-air, using his newfound agility to control his momentum. He hit the ground hard but rolled with precision, minimizing the damage before quickly springing back to his feet.

  Valtrax wasted no time, charging forward like a battering ram. Aven crouched low, the tip of the All Handed Blade scraping against the dirt as he prepared for a counterstrike. But Valtrax feinted at the last moment, shifting to Aven’s left. Aven instinctively swung the blade to block the incoming punch, the impact reverberating through his arms like a thunderclap. The force of the blow sent him skidding backward, his boots carving deep grooves into the ground, but he managed to maintain his balance.

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  The moment of reprieve was short-lived. Aven barely had time to glance up before Valtrax’s colossal foot came crashing toward his face. The force of the kick was catastrophic, launching Aven like a cannonball into the base of the nearby mountain. The impact sent a shockwave rippling through the rocky terrain, cracks spidering outward from the point of collision.

  As Aven struggled to recover, Valtrax charged again, his massive frame barreling forward with the unstoppable momentum of a bull. Aven raised his blade just in time, but the collision drove him further into the mountain, the ground beneath him crumbling under the tremendous force. Dust and debris filled the air, the mountain groaning under the strain of the onslaught.

  Valtrax lifted his massive right arm, swinging it down in a crushing blow. Aven reacted in an instant, driving his foot into the beast’s chest with a powerful kick that momentarily halted the attack and pushed Valtrax back a few feet. But the reprieve was fleeting. Valtrax pivoted smoothly, his massive tail whipping around in a wide arc.

  Aven swung the All Handed Blade high, desperately raising it to block Valtrax's massive tail. The impact was earth-shattering—his arms were nearly torn from their sockets as the blade was forced to the side, crashing violently into his torso. A sickening crack rang out, and Aven felt the sharp sting of broken ribs splintering beneath his skin. The force of the blow sent him hurtling into the jagged rock face of the mountain, slamming into it with such intensity that the wall shattered around him, sending debris tumbling down like an avalanche. Pain exploded through his body, and for a moment, all he could hear was the pounding of his own heart, drowning out the world.

  As the clash of titanic forces reverberated through the mountain, with each strike from Valtrax sending shockwaves that cracked the very earth beneath their feet. Aven, battered and bleeding, felt the strain of his body from each blow but refused to yield. He stood, arms trembling, eyes narrowed, focused solely on the towering monstrosity that had taken his every ounce of strength to even momentarily halt.

  As Valtrax's monstrous fist collided with his gut, the sheer force sent Aven flying like a ragdoll, his body spinning uncontrollably in mid-air. The wind rushed past him as he soared upwards before crashing into the jagged side of the mountain, the impact almost knocking him unconscious. His ribs cracked, his vision blurred, but still, he fought to rise. The only thought that kept him grounded was the image of the All Handed Blade—its ethereal, unyielding presence.

  Valtrax, towering in the air like a god, unfurled his wings with a sense of pride, his massive form a shadow that seemed to blot out the stars above. He grinned savagely, sensing Aven’s weakness.

  “He isn’t dead yet?” Valtrax muttered to himself, his wings flapping with mighty gusts as he searched the mountain's depths. His amber eyes gleamed with dark amusement. He spotted faint human footprints trailing toward an area full of towering stone spikes. The perfect trap, the perfect hiding spot for a creature so insignificant. His lips curled into a predatory grin.

  “Ah, the perfect hiding spot for a human... Very well then, I shall enjoy this game.”

  With a thunderous flap of his wings, Valtrax soared through the air, moving like a force of nature. His eyes never left the area where the footprints led, excitement growing as he prepared to strike, his massive form like a meteor, set to crush anything in its path.

  But just as he descended with lethal speed, Aven’s senses flared, and he lunged forward, sword in hand. The All Handed Blade whistled through the air, its crimson edge flashing like lightning. But Valtrax was ready. With a cocky grin, he twisted his body mid-air, spinning to face Aven's attack. The scales along his wings caught the edge of the blade, sending vibrations through his frame, and for a brief moment, Valtrax lost his balance. He plummeted toward the sharp stone spikes below, his wings flailing as he crashed into the jagged earth.

  Aven didn’t hesitate. With a powerful burst of energy, he rushed forward, the All Handed Blade aimed directly at Valtrax’s throat. The blade glinted, and Aven’s movements were a blur, fueled by instincts both new and foreign. But Valtrax was faster. At the last second, he twisted and dodged, the sword barely missing him by inches. With a brutal swipe of his massive hand, Valtrax knocked the blade aside and unleashed another crushing punch.

  Aven’s reflexes kicked in. He ducked under the strike, his body moving like a fluid extension of his will. He adjusted his position and, with lightning speed, redirected the blade upward, slashing across Valtrax’s exposed chin. The force was enough to send a shudder through the beast’s body, the pain immediate and raw.

  Before Valtrax could retaliate, Aven adjusted his stance, his body coiling with tension, and launched himself forward. With a scream of determination, the All Handed Blade thrust straight into Valtrax’s abdomen. The massive creature leaned forward, gasping in pain as the blade bit into his thick scales. But the pain only made him angrier.

  In the heat of the battle, the All Handed Blade’s power surged again. Chains erupted from the sword, wrapping around Valtrax’s scaled neck with unrelenting force. Aven’s grip tightened, and the chains pulsed with energy, holding the creature in place for a brief, fleeting moment.

  With every ounce of strength, Aven sprinted toward a massive stone spike protruding from the ground. His feet hit the jagged surface, pushing off with explosive force, his body launching toward the sky. The ground beneath him cracked as he executed a sudden, acrobatic motion. With a final, powerful push, Aven sent Valtrax crashing downward, the weight of the massive beast adding to the destruction as the floor shattered beneath them.

  The two combatants plunged into a vast, open cave, the air thick with dust and echoes. The moonlight filtered through cracks in the stone, casting an eerie glow on the wreckage. The silent beauty of the cavern stood in stark contrast to the devastation unfolding within. Both fighters, bruised and battered, stood in the ruins, facing each other in a deadly dance—one that would determine who would stand, and who would fall, in this final confrontation.

  Valtrax growled, his wings flapping with fury, his immense form rising to its full height as he glared down at Aven. The battle was far from over, and neither was willing to give an inch.

  Aven's breath came in ragged gasps as he lifted his head, blood trickling down his bruised face. Across from him, Valtrax stood tall, the chains from the All Handed Blade dangling uselessly as his massive arm tore them from his neck. Mana began to gather in Valtrax’s mouth, swirling with a fiery intensity that illuminated the cavern. The heat radiating from the charging fire beam scorched the air, growing more powerful with each passing second.

  Sensing the impending attack, Aven rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding the radiant flames that erupted from Valtrax’s jaws. Grabbing his sword in the same motion, Aven swung the All Handed Blade with precision. The edge struck Valtrax's face, forcing the beast’s head to jerk violently. The redirected fire beam obliterated the cavern wall, sending boulders and debris raining down. Dust filled the air, and Valtrax snarled, blood trickling from the corner of his jagged maw.

  His eyes blazed with fury as he swung a colossal arm, aiming to crush Aven. But Aven rolled again, evading the attack as the ground beneath Valtrax’s fist fractured. Valtrax roared in frustration, rising to his feet with terrifying speed. Mana surged through his body, concentrating in his fists as he charged forward, his massive frame quaking with unbridled rage.

  Aven met the charge head-on, raising the All Handed Blade to block the incoming blow. The impact was monumental, the ground beneath Aven cracking under the force. He held his ground, his muscles straining as Valtrax’s immense strength bore down on him. With a quick adjustment, Aven slid the blade along Valtrax’s fist, aiming to slice through the thick scales. Sparks flew as the blade scraped against the draconic armor, but Valtrax, sensing the danger, redirected his mana to fortify the scales around his neck. When Aven’s blade struck, it failed to pierce or even scratch the reinforced hide.

  Undeterred, Aven doubled his efforts, pouring every ounce of strength into the blade. Valtrax began to feel the weight of Aven’s relentless push, a sensation that enraged him further. With a guttural roar, Valtrax swung a massive fist at Aven, but the swordsman ducked and retaliated with a swift counterstrike. The blade struck Valtrax’s left side, but the beast deflected the attack with his right hand, bringing his other fist down like a hammer.

  This time, the punch landed squarely on Aven’s face, the impact sending a shockwave through his body. Yet, to Valtrax’s astonishment, Aven did not fly backward. His feet remained planted firmly on the ground, blood dripping from his mouth as he gritted his teeth through the pain.

  Valtrax’s fury gave way to disbelief. "You... stood your ground? Against me? The Almighty Dracotour? Impossible!"

  Aven wiped the blood from his lips, his eyes blazing with determination. Without hesitation, he charged forward, the All Handed Blade gleaming in the dim light. He adjusted his stance mid-sprint and delivered a powerful strike to Valtrax’s head. The force of the blow sent the beast staggering back, his massive form colliding with the cavern wall.

  Aven seized the opportunity, lunging with his sword aimed at Valtrax’s chest. But Valtrax’s reflexes proved sharper than ever. His massive clawed hand caught the blade mid-thrust, mana flowing into his arm to hold the weapon at bay. Aven, undeterred, released one hand from the sword’s hilt and threw a punch at Valtrax’s face.

  The beast caught Aven’s fist effortlessly and roared with a savage grin. “Foolish!” With a tremendous display of strength, Valtrax swung Aven like a ragdoll, slamming him into the cavern wall. The force of the blow caused the entire structure to tremble, chunks of rock breaking free and falling to the ground.

  Valtrax’s mana surged once more, this time gathering in his left arm. The energy crackled and burned as he unleashed a devastating blow. Aven barely had time to react before the attack connected, sending him hurtling through the mountain’s interior. The impact was cataclysmic, blasting him out the other side of the rocky terrain.

  Aven’s body tumbled across the open ground, leaving deep grooves in the earth as he rolled to a stop. He lay motionless for a moment, dust settling around him, the faint glow of moonlight illuminating his battered form. Valtrax stepped out of the ruined cavern, his wings unfurled, his massive figure silhouetted against the night sky.

  The battle was far from over. Both combatants were bloodied and bruised, but their resolve burned brighter than ever.

  Valtrax strode out of the massive, gaping hole in the mountainside, his smirk full of cruel satisfaction. His instincts, honed through countless battles, already declared his victory. He paused to savor the moment, watching as Aven, battered and bloodied, struggled to his feet. Using the All Handed Blade as a crutch, Aven pushed himself upright, his body trembling under the strain.

  But something was wrong. Aven’s breath hitched as he felt a sharp sting beneath his eyes. His hands reached up to his face, trembling as he touched the warm, sticky blood streaming down his cheeks. He was crying blood.

  The world around him shifted abruptly. The vibrant, crimson battlefield faded into a pale, muted gray, as if all color had been drained. The towering figure of Valtrax loomed ahead, yet he felt oddly distant, his form seemingly out of reach despite his proximity. Aven’s vision wavered, and suddenly, a new presence materialized beside him.

  The figure tilted its head, a gesture of detached curiosity, its jet-black hair swaying softly despite the lack of wind. A flowing robe of pure white adorned with intricate golden linings clung to its flawless form, rippling in a nonexistent breeze. The sight was mesmerizing, surreal.

  Aven’s breath caught as his eyes traveled upward, meeting the figure’s gaze. The being's eyes were hauntingly beautiful—a perfect fusion of Aven’s own deep red irises and an ethereal, glowing amber. The colors seemed to dance, each hue vying for dominance, yet blending in a harmony that left Aven both awestruck and envious.

  It was him. No, not him, but a reflection—an idealized version of himself. The All Handed Blade had taken on a human form, a perfect replica of Aven, yet refined, flawless in every way. Its presence exuded an air of quiet supremacy, as if it stood above not just Aven, but the world itself.

  Even though the figure’s physical perfection bore no immediate relevance to the battle, Aven couldn’t help but feel a pang of inadequacy. He hated himself for admiring it, for envying what he could never become. Yet, at the same time, the figure’s presence stirred something within him—a faint glimmer of hope, or perhaps defiance.

  This was his sword. This was his fight. And no matter how perfect the blade might appear, it existed to serve him.

  The figure tilted its head again, the faintest trace of amusement flickering across its face, as if it knew exactly what Aven was thinking. Then, it spoke, its voice smooth and resonant, yet carrying an edge that sent a chill down Aven’s spine.

  “Do you admire me, or do you fear me, Aven?

  “I admire you…” Aven admitted, his voice barely above a whisper as he turned his gaze away, unable to maintain eye contact with the being before him. The sheer perfection of the figure felt oppressive, a stark contrast to his battered and bloodied self. His fingers tightened around the All Handed Blade, its hilt trembling in his grip as his mind wrestled with the weight of the moment.

  He exhaled shakily, his voice regaining strength as he spoke again, “You said you’re bound to me… yet you’re so different. Why is that?”

  The figure smiled faintly, an enigmatic expression that carried both amusement and something deeper—something unknowable. It stepped closer, its movements fluid, almost ethereal, as if it existed on a plane slightly removed from reality. Despite the figure’s calm demeanor, its presence bore a heavy weight, pressing against Aven’s very soul.

  “Different?” it echoed, its voice smooth and resonant, carrying a tone of both curiosity and bemusement. “You misunderstand, Aven. I am not different from you. I am what you could be—what you aspire to become but fear you’ll never achieve.”

  The figure circled him slowly, its golden-lined robe brushing against the pale, dreamlike ground. Its eyes bore into Aven, unrelenting yet devoid of malice. “You see yourself as broken, incomplete. And so, I am whole. You see yourself as weak, flawed. And so, I am strength, perfection.” It stopped in front of him again, leaning in slightly, its amber-red eyes glowing with a faint intensity. “I am what you need me to be, Aven, nothing more. I am you and you are my reflection, shaped by your own fears, desires, and potential.”

  Aven swallowed hard, the figure’s words cutting through him like the sharpest blade. He tightened his grip on the All Handed Blade, its weight suddenly feeling heavier, as if it bore the weight of his doubts and fears along with its physical mass. He lifted his gaze cautiously, forcing himself to meet the being’s unrelenting stare.

  “I… don’t know if I could ever be like you,” Aven admitted, his voice raw with vulnerability. “Strong, perfect... unshaken. Every time I stand up, I feel like the world’s ready to knock me back down. Even now, I’m barely holding on.”

  The figure’s faint smile didn’t waver. If anything, it softened, though its intensity remained. “You misunderstand again,” it said, its voice like a steady current, carrying both reassurance and challenge. “Perfection is an illusion. Strength is not born from never falling; it’s forged through the act of rising each time you do.”

  The words hung in the air, their weight pressing on Aven’s chest. He hesitated, his mind racing, before finally finding his voice. “But you’re… flawless. You don’t stumble. You don’t bleed. How could I ever measure up to that?”

  The figure stepped closer, its presence overwhelming yet strangely grounding. It reached out, its fingers brushing the edge of the All Handed Blade’s hilt. The moment its touch met the weapon, Aven felt a pulse—a connection deeper than anything he’d ever known.

  “I do not bleed because I am an ideal,” it said, its voice lowering, almost tender. “But you, Aven—you bleed, you stumble, and you fall because you are real. It is not my perfection that defines me; it is your resolve, your will to stand when all else fails. I am you, shaped by your battle, your pain, and your unyielding desire to keep moving forward.”

  Aven’s breath hitched, his gaze flickering between the figure’s outstretched hand and its piercing eyes. “If you’re what I aspire to be,” he said, his voice steadying, “then why do you feel so far away? Why do I envy you so much?”

  The figure tilted its head slightly, its expression thoughtful. “Because you are still on the path, Aven. Perfection is not a destination—it is the journey itself. You envy me because you see me as the end of that journey, the embodiment of everything you strive for.

  Aven’s gaze locked onto the figure beside him, his battered expression shifting, his eyes glowing with a rekindled sense of purpose and hope. The figure stood silently, its golden-lined robes swaying as if caught in a divine wind, its presence calm yet powerful.

  Time itself seemed to ripple unnaturally as the pale, dreamlike world gradually began to shift. Valtrax's towering, muscular form stirred within the suspended moment, his massive chest rising and falling with a deep, deliberate breath. The world around them moved in slow, almost reverent motion like thick honey, as if granting Aven a rare opportunity to witness the intricate mechanics of power itself.

  Aven’s enhanced vision sharpened, his senses attuned to every minute detail. He watched in awe as the golden and amber mana coursed through Valtrax’s body with a precision and grace that seemed almost choreographed. The ethereal energy flowed in elegant streams, spiraling toward his open maw. The mana shimmered like liquid sunlight, shifting in structure as it transformed into searing fire, licking the edges of his sharp teeth.

  For a moment, Aven forgot the pain in his battered body. He became mesmerized by the process—by the perfection of the energy’s flow. His mind raced, analyzing every movement, every pulse of mana.

  “I see now…” Aven murmured, his voice steady but filled with awe. His breath came in slow, deliberate pulls as he mirrored the process he had just observed. He closed his eyes, his focus turning inward as he felt the dormant mana within him begin to stir. At first, it was faint—a flicker of warmth deep within his core—but with each controlled breath, it grew stronger, spreading through his body like a wildfire.

  The figure beside him remained still, watching silently, its expression unreadable but carrying an air of approval. Aven's body tingled as the mana surged through his veins, filling every fiber of his being with a strength he hadn’t known he possessed. His stance grew firmer, his grip on the All Handed Blade steadier, as the energy coursing through him began to synchronize with the world around him.

  He opened his eyes, now a vivid blend of red and amber, glowing faintly with newfound power. A faint smile touched his lips as he whispered to himself, “So this is what it means to see.”

  The pale, dreamlike world shifted back into its original form, colors bleeding back into reality like paint on a blank canvas. Aven stood amidst the chaos, his battered form steady, his grip on the All Handed Blade firm. A low chuckle escaped his lips, carrying an edge of defiance and exhilaration as the newfound power surged through his veins.

  Across from him, Valtrax’s towering form stiffened, his crimson eyes narrowing in disbelief. The aura surrounding Aven had changed, radiating a raw, unyielding strength that rivaled his own. For the first time, doubt flickered across Valtrax's feral visage.

  “Impossible!” Valtrax snarled, his voice a guttural growl laced with fury and confusion. The words reverberated through the air like a thunderclap. His claws flexed, tearing into the ground beneath him as he bared his jagged teeth. “I am Valtrax, the apex of power! No mere human can rival me!”

  The atmosphere grew heavy, an oppressive weight pressing down on the battlefield. Suddenly, Valtrax's body began to pulse with an overwhelming surge of mana, the sheer magnitude of it causing the ground to quake violently. The air around him crackled and shimmered, charged with an intensity that made Aven’s newfound strength feel like a mere ember beside an inferno.

  “I’ve had enough of this foolish ordeal!” Valtrax roared, his voice shaking the very earth. “You, vile, worthless excrement—I will ensure you rot in the deepest pits of hell!”

  As Valtrax’s fury reached its peak, an unimaginable surge of mana erupted from his core. The earth trembled beneath him, cracking open as the air around him began to warp and distort. A deafening roar tore from his throat, reverberating through the cavernous expanse like a violent storm. The ground beneath his feet splintered as raw energy exploded outward, a blaze of radiant light that swallowed the dim world around them.

  The sheer volume of mana flooding Valtrax’s body made Aven’s own strength feel insignificant in comparison—a mere spark beside the firestorm that was about to be unleashed. Aven’s grip tightened on the All Handed Blade, but he could feel the oppressive weight of Valtrax’s power pressing down on him, a reminder of how far he still had to climb.

  Valtrax’s form began to swell, muscles rippling with a violent force, expanding outward as if the very fabric of reality couldn’t contain him. His scales, once sharp and jagged, began to shimmer and shift, transforming into molten patterns that glowed with the intensity of a thousand suns. Mana poured out of him like an unstoppable river, bending the very laws of nature to its will, each surge growing stronger, more intense.

  His wings expanded, growing wider and more powerful, formed from the burning essence of pure mana. His claws elongated, turning into obsidian-like talons that dripped with the heat of a forge, each movement causing the air to crackle with pressure. His body began to warp and twist, the muscles coiling like serpents as his frame grew massive, towering over Aven like a living mountain of fire and molten rock.

  As the transformation reached its zenith, Valtrax’s once sharp, predatory face was obscured by a blazing aura of molten lava, the lines between flesh and fire blurring into one unstoppable force. The heat radiating from him was unbearable, causing the air to shimmer in waves and sending tremors throughout the battlefield. His eyes, once crimson, now burned with the fury of a thousand volcanoes, a deep, unyielding flame that reflected the depth of his rage.

  His body now resembled the form of a Half-Magma Wyvern, an imposing, majestic beast made entirely of pure, molten mana. His scales had turned to flowing lava, his wings were vast, sweeping across the battlefield like a hurricane, and his very presence radiated the essence of destruction. He was no longer just Valtrax, the Dracotour; he had become an embodiment of pure, untamable power, a force of nature in physical form.

  The temperature around them rose to unbearable levels, the air itself crackling and distorting in the wake of his transformation. The ground beneath him began to warp, cracks forming in the earth as molten rock bubbled up from deep below. Valtrax’s roar filled the cavern, an earth-shaking bellow that shook the very foundation of the world they stood upon. He was no longer just a creature of flesh and bone—he had become an elemental force, a walking, breathing volcano of pure mana.

  Aven could feel the weight of the transformation, the raw energy in the air suffocating him, pushing against him with the force of a tidal wave. His heartbeat quickened, his mind racing as the reality of what he was facing began to settle in. This wasn’t just a battle of strength anymore—it was a battle against an entire force of nature.

  Light's Released || Episode 3: The Apex Of Power