Valmer's certainty was a physical chill in his bones, a deep-seated dread that confirmed his worst fear: the person before him had been playing with him all this time. Every dodge, every counter, had been executed with a casual, almost bored precision. It wasn't that Valmer was weak. By the standards of Earth's Awakeners, he was a titan, a Primordial whose name inspired awe and fear. But his power was a gift given to him by the system. Zane's was a scar, carved into his very being through a cycle of agony that Valmer's mind could not even conceive.
How could he understand having to crawl just because a planet's gravity denied the attempt to stand, let alone walk. Such was the world Zane thrived in.
The muscle fibers coiled around Zane's skeleton were not merely strengthened; they were a biological record of brutal training and countless deaths on the savage world of Zoic. They had been torn apart, shredded in gravitational crushers, and incinerated in an enclosed space of corrosive gas, only to be forcibly revived and subjected to it all over again. Each death and rebirth had left a metaphysical residue, a density of experience that made his body unbreakable by the standards of any Awakener who had never truly died. Valmer's body was a temple. Zane's was a fortress built upon a graveyard.
The analogy crystallized in Zane's mind: Ranks were just the tip of the iceberg, a superficial measurement. The Awakeners of Earth were like children who had been handed loaded guns without any understanding of the weapon's true purpose or power. They saw the potential in the trigger but had never felt the recoil, never learned to aim under duress, never had to clean the blood from the barrel.
Just because a mango seed has the potential to grow into a great tree one day does not mean the value of the seed is the same as the tree that provides fruit and shade. For Earth's Awakeners, the seed of power had been planted in the fertile soil of the System's arrival, and it was only just beginning to germinate. But Zane had fought for his seed on Zoic, a harsh, predatory world where the very soil sought to devour any growth. He hadn't been given fertile soil; he had clawed his way through rock and acid. He was not on the same level as these newcomers. He was from an entirely different world, in the most literal sense.
Gritting his teeth, Valmer searched the depths of his courage and found one last, tiny piece. The gun was pressed to the man's temple. He was as close as he could possibly be. He would fire. His finger tightened on the trigger.
But Zane's hand was already moving. It wasn't a blur; it was a simple, economical motion that pushed the gun's barrel away from his forehead a fraction of a second before Valmer's muscles completed their firing command. His reflexes were not just fast; they were pre-cognitive, honed by surviving ambushes from an Apex Ranker of the Tower.
"Onilia always tried to kill me in my sleep on Zoic," Zane said, his voice conversational, as if commenting on the weather. "It made me develop a certain sense for killing intention. I can feel the tension gather in the muscle fibers before the thought even fully forms in your mind. Yet you try to kill me with my eyes wide open?" His right hand shot up and closed around Valmer's throat, lifting the larger man off the ground with an effortless, terrifying strength born from muscles that had weathered planetary extremes. Valmer, of course, didn't understand the reference, but the implication was clear: he was an amateur attempting to assassinate a master.
Shock and humiliation warred within Valmer as he dangled, his feet hanging uselessly in the air. He was a man in his prime, a leader, a power—being manhandled by someone who looked like they hadn't yet finished growing.
Frustration and desperation took over. Valmer fired the remaining beads in the cylinder in a frantic, rapid succession, the gun roaring in the confined space between them. He aimed to punch multiple, closely-grouped holes directly through Zane's skull.
It was futile. Zane didn't even move his body. With minute, almost imperceptible tilts of his head, he moved it just enough that each sanctified projectile whizzed past his ear, burying itself in the wall behind him. The movements were so slight, so efficient, they were an insult to the very concept of aim-dodging.
"Your muscles betray you, Valmer," Zane stated, his gaze locked on the priest's wide, disbelieving eyes. "The micro-twitch in your wrist, the tension in your forearm, the shift in your shoulder. It's all a story, and I can read every chapter before you've even written it."
He studied the man in his grip, who weilded a weapon but utterly vulnerable. "Judging by your silence, you really are Valmer, are you not?" Zane's voice lost its last vestige of patience. His eyes narrowed to dangerous slits, his tone dropping into a glacial register that barely contained the killing urge simmering beneath the surface. "Don't drag this out any longer. I have yet to take off my weights and pull out Ruinblaze. I am being uncharacteristically polite. I need one thing from you. Tell me where Ariel Walker is."
'To think I'd meet such an insane person on a day like this,' Valmer thought, despair creeping into his heart. 'The final assault is underway, and I'm stuck here, being toyed with by a total stranger. I'm afraid I won't be able to join the others at Ravenloch in time. But whatever happens, I mustn't let this freak find Ariel. Who knows what he might do to her?'
He met Zane's cold stare, summoning every ounce of his remaining defiance. "You think intimidating me is going to make me spill the information you need?" Valmer choked out, his voice strained but firm. "Think again. I am a servant of the Most High God, and I bow only to him. You'll get nothing out of me, alive or dead."
"I was afraid you'd say that," Zane said, a note of genuine disappointment in his voice. "It's such a shame. Goodbye, Valmer."
The killing intent that had been a coiled serpent around Valmer's heart constricted, promising a swift and final end. Zane's intentions were as clear as shattered glass.
'I wanted to avoid using this but I.. no, the choice is no longer mine. I was saving it for when I met the Elites, I didn't think I'd have to use it on a human.' Valmer thought as he stared Zane down with cold eyes. He was ready to reveal his last most terrifying card.
But before any of them could make a move, Zane's head tilted slightly to the left, as if sensing something only he could see.
How could he forget this cold, killing intent. The same energy the Whisperkin gave off at the beginning of the tutorial.
And then, impossibly, the pressure vanished. Zane's hand opened, and Valmer dropped to the ground, gasping as his boots hit the pavement. He watched, utterly bewildered, as the young man simply turned his back and began to walk away.
'Why? What is this?' Valmer's mind raced, trying to decipher Zane's intention. The most he could come up with was that, Zane no longer considered him a threat. But he was wrong, it wasn't that Zane didn't want to kill him, but because there was another guest.
A shadow fell over them, deep and sudden, as if a cloud had blotted out the sun. The air grew heavy, thick with the smell of crushed stone and ozone. A low, grinding rumble vibrated through the soles of their feet, a sound like continents shifting.
[System Notification]
You have encountered a Gemini.
Species: Rocksborne
Rank: Elite
Stats:
· Strength: S+
· Intelligence: A
· Speed: S
· Agility: S
Final Rank: Rocksborne S+
Abilities:
· Steel Frame: Reduces all physical and energy-based damage by 40%.
· Fatal Strike: Channels kinetic energy into a single, critical punch capable of instantly terminating the life force of an opponent upon a direct hit.
.Size modification: able to alter its size at will.
Weakness: None detected.
The glowing, holographic screen materialized simultaneously in front of both men, its clinical text a stark contrast to the primal terror it invoked. Their heads snapped up, their personal conflict forgotten as they stared at the source of the shadow.
It stood three and a half meters tall, a bipedal monolith of jagged, granite-like flesh. Its body seemed less a crafted form and more a mountain that had decided to walk, all sharp angles and crushing weight. Its eyes were deep fissures that glowed with a dull, malevolent red, and each of its two arms ended in fists that looked like compacted boulders.
'What is one of the seven Elites doing here? What happened to the others at Ravenloch?' Valmer thought as he stared at the Gemini.
"An Elite," Zane whispered, his analytical tone cutting through Valmer's dread. "Just like the Whisperkin. Except its stats are... decidedly more direct."
The creature took a step forward. The ground trembled, and a web of cracks spread from its footfall. Its voice was grating and deep. "Today must be your cursed day, for you have met me."
A slow, dangerous smile spread across Zane's face, the first genuine expression Valmer had seen. It was the smile of a predator spotting worthy prey. He cracked the knuckles of his neck, his gaze locked on the abomination.
"Oh, I've seen my fair share of cursed days," Zane replied, his voice laced with a dark amusement. 'So they can all talk. How fascinating.'
Zane didn't circle the behemoth; he walked a direct, unwavering line straight towards it, his footsteps almost silent on the broken pavement. He came to a halt mere feet from the creature, close enough to feel the dry, gritty heat radiating from its stone flesh. Tilting his head back, he looked up, past the pillar-like legs and the torso that blotted out the sky, meeting the dull red glow emanating from the deep fissures of its eyes.
The Rocksborne let out a grinding sound that might have been a laugh. "For such a fragile creature, you are either fearless or foolish."
It didn't wind up. There was no telegraphing motion. One moment it was still, the next, its boulder-like fist was a blur, hammering down from above like a meteor. It wasn't a punch meant to injure; it was a force of nature meant to pulp, to erase, to pound its target into a bloody smear on the concrete.
The air screamed as it compressed.
Zane didn't dodge. His right hand snapped upward, palm open. The impact was not a clean block but a cataclysmic crunch of colliding forces. A shockwave of pure concussive force erupted outwards, shattering the remaining windows for a block and forcing Valmer to shield his face. Dust and debris blasted away in a perfect circle around them.
When the dust settled, the scene was frozen. The Rocksborne's fist was suspended in the air, caught perfectly in Zane's grasp. Zane's arm hadn't buckled; it was a pillar of iron holding up the sky. His feet were planted firmly, the pavement beneath them cratered but holding.
Zane looked at the massive fist enveloped by his hand, then back up at the stunned Elite.
"Fragile?" Zane asked, his voice deceptively calm. "You have a strange definition of the word."
Valmer stared, wondering if his final hidden card would've made a difference.