The first roar shook the streets like thunder. The high orc charged, axe swinging in a brutal arc that could cleave a building in two. I didn't move first. I let the ground hum beneath my boots, letting the storm in me pulse.
Then I struck.
Storm Veins ignited along my arms and legs. My speed became a blur, violet lightning trailing my movements like streaks of dying stars. I sidestepped the axe and slammed the pommel of my sword into the orc's jaw. Sparks erupted, electricity surging through bone and muscle. The orc roared, stumbling back, and I used the momentum to flip over its head, Judgment Spark piercing its shoulder. Purple lightning tore through its armor, sizzling as the energy devoured it from the inside.
Before it could recover, my wraiths—Shadow, Rift, and Obsidian—sprang forward. Shadow sliced into the orc's flank, Rift struck from above, and Obsidian materialized as a violet-black lance, piercing its chest. The high orc collapsed, twitching, smoke rising from burned flesh.
No time to savor victory. The giant dire wolves circled, snarling, fangs dripping shadow. I spun my sword, violet arcs carving a circle in the air.
"Let's dance."
Abyssstorm erupted. Lightning coiled into serpents, biting the wolves, latching onto their fur and bone. They leapt at me, claws raking sparks from the ground, but I was faster. Each strike of my blade left trails of violet fire, each swing a symphony of destruction. One wolf lunged—gone. Another turned to flee—struck by a wraith slicing the air behind it. The last tried to ambush me from above, but I pivoted midair, Aether Conduction absorbing the elemental charge in its claws, redirecting it back with double the force. The wolf shrieked and fell into a smoldering crater.
Above, wings blocked the sun. Dragons. Three of them, scales glinting in sunlight like molten metal. They roared, fire, ice, and shadow streaming from their mouths.
I didn't flinch. My sword hummed with violet energy. Judgment Spark: Multi-Strike. Lightning split into three streams, tearing through the first dragon's chest. It screeched, diving to avoid the others. My wraiths soared, taking the other two from different angles. Shadow and Rift struck with precise coordination, Obsidian holding the ground in a protective strike, sending arcs of purple energy outward.
The dragons roared, circling, trying to force me to retreat. I didn't. Instead, I leapt, violet lightning coiling around me, and slammed my sword into the cobblestone streets. The impact sent a wave of energy upward, Abyssstorm consuming their wings, tearing through scales and muscles. One dragon crashed into a building, the other barely escaped my wraiths slicing the air.
The city square was a warzone. Smoke, dust, shattered masonry, and violet lightning dancing in the chaos.
And still, I moved alone. No guildmates. No backup. Just me.
Finally, after relentless assault, distant shouts cut through the storm. Hunters—guild members from across the continent—raced in, crossing the square. They took stock of the battlefield, eyes wide. High orc carcasses smoldered, wolves gone, dragons wounded or fleeing. Violet lightning crackled faintly along the edges of the buildings where my wraiths lingered, watching, ready.
I turned, brushing a streak of blood from my cheek, smirk curling across my face.
"Late," I said casually, voice carrying over the smoke and rubble. "You missed the fun part. But don't worry… I left some for you."
Lysera's words from the garden echoed faintly in my mind: "I think I'll manage."
I laughed softly. "You have no idea."
Even the hunters who had faced calamities and catastrophic dungeons before felt it—the storm wasn't just in me. It was me. And surviving it? Impossible.
For anyone foolish enough to challenge me… it would always be the same. The violet tempest consumes all.