Crimson cut through the air like angry streaks of paint on a battlefield canvas. Armor cracked apart. Shields bent and buckled under the unrelenting force of Zane's strikes. A single slash took one soldier's arm, another feint drew three in, only for them to fall together in a flash of steel. Five more bodies dropped before they could even understand how fast he moved. A polearm whipped past his head. Zane ducked low, used the shaft as a pivot, flipped high over its wielder, then dropped a boot into the man's back, cracking vertebrae and sending him face-first into the cobblestone. Another enemy came swinging from behind. Zane didn't bother to turn around. He twisted his body, caught the soldier's wrist, and bent until the elbow snapped with a sickening crack, and tossed the man into the dirt.
They kept coming. Again and again.
But it didn't matter. Each time a wave of soldiers rushed him, more bodies joined the growing field of corpses. Their bravery died faster than their ranks. The air reeked of sweat, blood, and fear. Yet the five Knights still stood motionless. They watched him with grim eyes. Their leader, Sir Gallan, clenched his teeth as screams rose all around him. He had heard the stories. He had scoffed at the legends. But now he saw it himself. This wasn't just a trickster in a hood. This wasn't a rebel with unimaginable powers. He was their worst nightmare. The scene almost made him say a prayer before he joined the battle.
The scent of blood and steel filled the air as the battle came to a halt. Every single soldier lay on the floor, dead, the scene was gruesome. However Phantom stood among the dead bodies, unfazed. His suit was spotless, not even a speck of blood. Just how did he do it?
As he stood among the bodies a spear came flying through the air, aimed directly at his heart. Zane vanished from where he stood. He had turned invisible, but his enemies didn't know that. To them he had just simply vanished. The Five Knights jumped from the high window of the fortress.
They landed with a thud, and drew their blades. The magical energy used to do extraordinary things was called chi, once a person developed chi around the age of twelve, they could choose a path. To become a chi wielder or a chi artist. Chi wielders used chi to enhance their physical bodies. A person who was a chi wielder's body would change and become stronger. Chi wielders took their physical enhancement to a whole new level. Chi artists on the other hand, were people who learned to manipulate chi from outside the body. They were considered the mages. They could manipulate chi and turn them into elements like fire, water, air, earth, lightning, light, space and many more. Some people were particularly talented in specific elements. Using Chi in both ways wasn't impossible, but only very talented people could do that, the kingdom called them mage knights. The stage a person was at determined the quality and quantity of their chi. Dormant were those with inner chi, Ascendant were those with outer chi. Transcendent, were those with solid chi. They could use the chi itself in their bodies to fight, drawing it out like a blade or a shield or pure raw chi. The five knights surrounding Phantom were master dormant warriors, they were also chi wielders. Zane was also at the ninth level of the dormant stage. He had disappeared, preparing a sneak attack. The five Knights stood back to back, prepared for anything, or so they thought. Their leader roared. "Show yourself, you coward, I thought you were invincible." Phantom came from below, like a ghost, passing through the dirt, he came through the earth, right at the center point where their back pressed. "Bang!!!" Their formation scattered and they were sent in different directions. He stood, taking the spot they were previously in. "Coward? Aren't you guys the ones ganging up on me?" He was still making jokes, but the Knights didn't find them funny. They lunged forwards, slashing in a pattern that left no room to dodge. But phantom danced among them, like they were nothing but an obstacle course. Their swords couldn't do anything to him even if he didn't turn into his ghost form. He weaved and ducked, blocking their swords at the same time. He was using the incredible sword skills left behind by his father, the one he had refined.
"what is this..? his sword style, it's unlike anything I have ever seen before."
"it's like he's dancing!"
"Well, let's give him a good dance!"
"This guy...he's not normal."
They moved in and attacked, their swords flashing with speed no ordinary man could replicate. Zane's smile was a taunt, a slap to their faces. The dance continued until they moved through the corridors to the section where the prisoners were held. The same prisoners he had come to rescue.
"This should be impossible. How is he still moving?!"
One of the knights gasped, breath ragged. "It's not teleportation. He isn't jumping around. It's like he's out of sync with this world."
Another nodded, sweat dripping past his chin. "A cursed state. Something we can't track."
Sir Gallan looked again and narrowed his eyes. "No. This is sorcery. But not anything we've studied. This is old forbidden sorcery, It's space weaving"
They were almost right in their analysis. Only because Zane had given them the chance to figure it out. Only because they wouldn't leave here alive.
Zane had trained for years in a technique most believed a myth. Bending the space around his body, reaching a level that existed in a layer of comprehension just slightly out of reach. A forbidden art. One slip could destroy your organs. One mistake could erase your presence entirely. He had mastered it. This wasn't even his full strength.
Their leader, Sir Gallan shouted, "six fold formation!" They moved in unison, creating a skilful and effective fighting formation that left no space. That was when they saw it, an opening, Zane was going to attack, that meant they would be able to hurt him. They moved together, their swords descending from the sky like a falling star leaving a trail behind. "Clang" the sword hit.....the ground? It smashed a crater in the ground and passed right through Phantom. Phantom on the other hand looked at his nails and yawned as if bored. With a kick, he sent one of the Knights flying across the room, then he vanished, causing the others to retaliate at the air. He was behind two of them in seconds. Blades sticking out of their stomach, they dropped to the floor. Dead. "YOU BASTARD!!" Someone roared.
But his head flew off his neck and cut his sentence short. Soon, only one knight stood. His blade cracked. His armor dented. Breathing like every inhale burned his lungs. The others lay broken across the corridor floor. He backed into the wall, torchlight glinting against his frightened eyes. Zane raised his sword slowly. His voice came out cool and low.
"This didn't need to end like this."
He stepped forward. But, before Zane could strike, the tunnel erupted.
A roar of fire howled down the corridor. The air twisted. Heat surged like the breath of a dragon. A massive fireball the size of three horses, smashed through the tunnel's mouth, engulfing everything in its path. Zane phased, letting the blast pass through harmlessly. The other knight turned to barbecue, luckily this wasn't the section where the prisoners were, or they too would have burned. But the flame wasn't what mattered. The fireball crashed into the foundation, slamming stone and ceiling into each other. The whole structure collapsed, burying him under rubble like the sky itself had fallen.
"Let's see you dodge that," came a voice.
Kira stood tall in a distant watchtower. Her blade shimmered. Her armor glowed faintly with etched runes. Her long hair danced in the wind. Her eyes, sharp and focused, never blinked.
She had come to stop this menace.