A deep crater yawned where Ezequiel had crashed, the ground split and churned as if struck by a meteor. A curtain of dust billowed into the air, blotting out the apprentices' view of their target. Neither Benjamin nor Robert could see what had become of him, but both wore the same confident smirk.
After all, any apprentice who had taken a direct hit from an attack with that much power should be broken—if not dead outright.
"Well done, Robert," Benjamin said, his serpent's eyes narrowing with satisfaction. He respected quick thinking in battle. Even giving his all, he had been unable to land a clean hit on Ezequiel, and that infernal lightning whip had already left burns along his scales.
Robert chuckled, though there was a tremor of relief in his voice. "That brat may be strong, but he's too cocky. He thought he could handle both of us at once. Just one little trick, and he was finished."
He made it sound easy, but Robert knew the truth was anything but. While distracting Ezequiel with his falling rock spell, he had been channeling every ounce of his power into liquefying the earth beneath the boy's feet—timed to the second so that Ezequiel would sink at the exact moment Benjamin's tail swept through. The strain of casting two spells so quickly had drained him almost to his limit.
Benjamin slithered toward the crater, his massive snake form blotting out the sun overhead. His fanged mouth hung open, venom dripping in thick, oily strings.
"Brat!" he bellowed, his voice a hissing roar. "Enjoy being eaten by me!"
He lunged, jaws wide to crush and swallow—
—and met only a raised hand.
Two words followed, cold and clear.
"Abyssal Blast."
A surge of concentrated Abyss Aura erupted from Ezequiel's palm. Unlike Zatiel's familiar black blasts, this one burned an otherworldly blue. The beam tore through the dust like a lightning strike, crossing the space between them faster than Benjamin could react.
It hit him squarely in the chest.
The impact was apocalyptic. The upper half of his snake body simply ceased to exist, vaporized in an instant. Flesh, scale, and bone dissolved into the air as the force slammed into the earth beyond, carving a furrow in the ground.
"Benjamin!" Robert's scream was hoarse, disbelieving. A moment ago, they'd been savoring victory. Now, Benjamin's remains twitched in the dirt, the strongest attack Robert had ever witnessed having ended him in a heartbeat.
The dust settled. Ezequiel emerged from the pit, his expression unreadable. His left arm was mangled, white bone jutting through torn flesh, but his right arm was already knitting itself back together at astonishing speed, Abyss Regeneration surging through it like liquid fire.
Robert's pulse hammered in his ears. He tried to back away—slowly at first, then faster—his mind scrambling for a plan. Where did he go?
A ripple of air. The crackle of lightning.
A hand wreathed in blinding light punched clean through his chest. Robert gasped, vision dimming as he forced his head to turn. Cold, merciless eyes stared back at him from only inches away.
"Ahhh—!" His scream was cut short as the lightning ripped through his body, bursting from every vein and nerve. In seconds, nothing remained but a smoking corpse.
Ezequiel stepped back, letting the body fall. He didn't even glance at it again. His face remained impassive, but inside, he was already replaying the fight in his mind.
I wasn't careful enough, he admitted silently. Master was right—I need to watch everything. Every detail, no matter how small.
He didn't realize how extraordinary his performance had been. With the amount of Abyss Aura he currently held, his raw strength matched that of a newly advanced Rank 3 Apprentice. Yet he had faced three opponents with superior reserves and more years of battle experience—fought them head-on—and killed every one of them. His only serious injury was a fractured arm, which would heal fully in minutes if he kept Abyss Regeneration active.
Far away, in another part of the Endless Forest, Zatiel finally slowed his pace.
"I have arrived," he murmured.
Before him rose a squat mountain riddled with dark openings—hundreds of cave mouths gaping like the skulls of giants. The stench of decay and damp earth drifted out to meet him.
He pulled up the details of his mission in his mind. "The caves of the rat men. The goal is to collect magical herbs that grow only in their nesting grounds. Individually, these creatures are weak—Rank 2 Apprentices can kill them—but they live in massive packs. A thousand strong, they can swarm and tear even a skilled fighter apart. Dangerous if cornered… but for me, nothing more than an inconvenience."
He summoned the A.I. Chip.
[Bip… Analyzing host.]
Strength: 8.2Physique: 9.3Speed: 7.9Abyss Aura: 10.7
A small, satisfied smile touched Zatiel's lips. His physical strength surpassed even that of a Rank 3 Body-Refinement Apprentice—but unlike them, he wasn't burning his future potential to achieve it. His growth was natural, sustainable… and accelerating.
'Good. The rat men won't slow me down, and the herbs will be mine soon enough. As for Arthur and his little pack, they'll probably wait to attack until I'm leaving the caves.'
He studied the mountain more closely, his senses probing the shadows. Something prickled at him—something off about the air here. With the chip's assistance, he found it: a series of complex, deadly traps woven into the terrain.
'I'm impressed,' he thought. 'They don't even know me well, yet they went to this much trouble. Unfortunately for them, such things are useless against someone like me.'
With a faint shake of his head, he stepped past the hidden wards and into the darkness.
The stench hit him first—rot and filth so thick it clung to his tongue. The cave floor crunched beneath his boots, littered with old bones. The walls were gouged and claw-marked, the tunnels clearly dug by animal strength rather than tools. Somewhere deeper within, something gnawed wetly, the sound of tearing flesh and grinding teeth echoing through the black.
An ominous place for most. To Zatiel, it was almost nostalgic. Compared to the horrors of the Abyss, this was a child's playground.
The noises grew louder. Shapes moved in the dark ahead—rat men. They emerged into the torchlight, gray-furred bodies low to the ground, long claws scraping stone. They stood barely a meter tall, but their eyes burned with feral hunger as they spotted him.
The first dozen charged.
Zatiel's Abyss Aura flared, and the air around him writhed. Abyssal Chains materialized—inky black constructs, each moving with a will of its own. They lashed out faster than the creatures could blink, piercing skulls and chests, snapping bones. The bodies fell where they stood, their death cries cut short.
And Zatiel stepped forward, deeper into the nest.