Valax's transformation was complete. He had become a grotesque mockery of his former self, his body swollen with unnatural power, his eyes burning with malevolent energy. The Cult called this the "Ascension," a one-way ticket to unimaginable strength, paid for with one's humanity.
"Aaaaghhh!" Valax roared, his voice a bestial echo of his former self, before vanishing in a blur of motion.
The impact was deafening. Kairon, caught off guard by the sudden assault, was flung back like a ragdoll, crashing into a wall. He rolled with the impact, using his momentum to land on his feet, but Valax was relentless.
"Too slow! Too flimsy! Too frail! This is reality!" Valax bellowed, his voice filled with disdain.
Blow after blow rained down upon Kairon, each strike carrying the force of a battering ram.
Valax, consumed by his newfound power, believed brute force was the answer, the ultimate solution to any obstacle. He would overwhelm Kairon, crush him beneath his might, and prove the futility of skill and finesse.
But Kairon was not so easily defeated.
"Hgh?!" Valax grunted, a sharp pain piercing his chest. He glanced down to see a thin line of blood welling up from a newly formed wound. He had been cut, his monstrous defenses breached.
Kairon, despite being flung around like a leaf in a storm, had maintained his composure. He had used Valax's own momentum against him, finding the gaps in his defenses, exploiting his blind rage.
"It's hopeless! You can't get me!!" Valax shrieked, his voice laced with desperation. His wounds healed rapidly, his monstrous regeneration defying logic and reason.
He accelerated, his movements a blur of red light, his attacks a relentless barrage of power. Sparks flew as their blades clashed, the air filled with the sound of metal on metal, the scent of ozone and blood.
The battle was a spectacle of speed and power, a dance of death that defied human comprehension.
Valax, with his overwhelming strength and regeneration, seemed invincible. Kairon, by all accounts, should have been crushed, his body broken, his spirit shattered.
But he wasn't.
"Why...why can't I hit you...?" Valax gasped, his voice filled with frustration and disbelief.
Kairon, throughout the onslaught, had remained calm and collected.
He had barely moved, allowing Valax to dictate the pace, to expend his energy in futile attacks.
He had become a conduit, channeling Valax's power, redirecting it, using it to his advantage.
"Terrible," Kairon commented, his voice laced with pity. "You have no finesse, no control. You are a blunt instrument, a hammer trying to perform surgery."
Valax roared in anger, his pride wounded. He gathered all his remaining power, focusing it into one final, devastating attack. He would end this, even if it cost him his life.
"No more games," he snarled, his voice dripping with malice.
But Kairon was ready.
With a single, effortless swing, he bisected Valax, cleaving through his monstrous form, his enhanced magic, his very essence. It was a perfect strike, a culmination of skill, technique, and power.
Valax, for all his strength, was powerless against it.
"What is this...?" he gasped, his eyes widening in disbelief.
Kairon's attack had been a masterpiece, a symphony of destruction that defied logic and reason. It was a testament to his 3 years of training since he got reincarnated, his unwavering dedication to honing his skills, his relentless pursuit of perfection.
Valax, his body falling apart, his lifeblood draining away, finally understood.
He had underestimated his opponent, blinded by his own arrogance and thirst for power. He had mistaken Kairon's quiet demeanor for weakness, his lack of flamboyance for incompetence.
He had been wrong.
"I guess...this is it..." Valax murmured, his voice fading into a whisper.
As his consciousness slipped away, he saw a vision of his daughter, Sophia, her face radiant with love and joy. He smiled, a single tear rolling down his cheek. He had failed, but at least he would be reunited with his beloved daughter.
Kairon watched as Valax's body dissolved into dust, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "Nothing personal," he muttered, quoting a line from one of his favorite video games. "Just business."
He turned and walked away, his footsteps echoing through the empty corridors. He had a sister to find, a mystery to unravel, and a world to save.
"We work in the dark to serve the light," Kairon said, his voice echoing in the empty chamber. He smirked, a touch of self-mockery in his eyes.
It was a line from one of his favorite video games, a fitting epitaph for the fallen Viscount. He had played his role, delivered his performance, and now it was time to move on.
"Well, that was... eventful," Kairon muttered, wiping a smudge of soot from his cheek.
The Black Covenant hideout was now nothing more than a smoldering ruin, a testament to the Ceberus's fiery wrath.
"Who knew rescuing my sister would involve battling a dragon and a chemically enhanced maniac?"
He shrugged, a nonchalant smirk playing on his lips. It wasn't exactly the quiet, uneventful life he had envisioned, but it certainly wasn't boring.
Besides, he had to admit, there was a certain thrill in playing the role of the "Master Phantom," the enigmatic leader who always seemed to be one step ahead.
"Speaking of my dear sister," Kairon mused, recalling the scene he had stumbled upon after defeating Valax. Velrith had been unconscious, chained to a pillar in a dimly lit chamber. He had freed her, of course, but hadn't bothered to wake her up. "She can be a bit... much, when she's awake."
He chuckled, imagining her reaction upon waking up alone in a crumbling hideout.
She was tough, though, and her wounds had already begun to heal. She would be fine.
Besides, it wasn't like she knew he was the mysterious "Master Phantom" who had orchestrated her rescue. That was a secret he intended to keep for now.
Kairon rejoined Lilith and Morgana near the entrance of the hideout. Lilith, her brow furrowed with concern, explained what she had learned from interrogating a captured Black Covenant member.
"They mentioned a captive dragon," she said, her voice laced with worry. "Apparently, they were planning to use it for some sort of ritual. We need to find it before they—"
"Yeah, about that..." Kairon interrupted, scratching his head sheepishly. "I kind of... absorbed it."
Lilith's jaw dropped. "You... what?"
Kairon, feeling a sudden urge to show off, raised his hand and unleashed a torrent of flames, mimicking the dragon's fiery breath. The flames danced around him, casting eerie shadows on the surrounding trees.
Lilith stared in awe, her eyes wide with admiration. "Master Phantom, you truly are amazing!"
Kairon basked in the praise, a smug grin spreading across his face. "Well," he said, striking a dramatic pose, "what did you expect?"
He had to admit, he was rather enjoying this whole "mastermind" persona. It was a far cry from his previous life as an unremarkable office worker, blending into the background.
Here, in this world of magic and adventure, he could be anyone he wanted, do anything he wanted. And he was determined to make the most of it.
The following weeks were a whirlwind of activity.
Velrith, after a brief stint in the hospital, finally departed for the capital, her parting words a mixture of gratitude and thinly veiled annoyance at whoever had rescued her but left her to wake up alone.
Kairon, of course, kept his involvement a secret, maintaining his facade of the unassuming younger brother.
The Ceberus, meanwhile, were busy tying up loose ends. They tracked down the remaining members of the Black Covenant, eliminating any lingering threats.
Kairon, true to his "side character" aspirations, left most of the work to Lilith and Morgana. He had, after all, already defeated the big bad boss.
But that geezer Valax with red eyes was outstanding. I mean, he inspired me to come up with "then we dive deeper in the light," which sounds like something a mastermind would say.
I owe him my thanks. I would've loved to have him play a supporting role.
This was a must-see performance. My ability to improvise and portray a master puppeteer was off the rockers. It's a real shame there wasn't a live audience.
But I only have to wait 5 more years—which is when I go to the capital. You know the one. It's a world-famous metropolis and the only city in this country that houses one million people.
I bet protagonists are a dime a dozen, and there might be Final Bosses, too.
There's bound to be conspiracies, rebellions, and incidents—none of which would ever happen in the boonies. And that's when the mastermind bursts onto the scene… Huh. Now that I think about it, I guess I'm just a toad who feels cocky about beating some bandits. At this moment in time, my prologue hasn't even been written.