"Appraisal" Ishmael called out before they clashed.
The system flickered into life before his eyes.
| Name: Baelor
Age: ???
Gender: Male
Race: Incursion
Titles: Anomaly, New Zone Boss
Class: Incursion Boss
——————
Spirit Core Ascension: Fourth Ascension
Spirit Core Rank: Peak
Spirit Bond: ???
——————-
Affinity: Metal
Skill: Metal Manipulation, Spirit Energy Manipulation, Devour, Incursion Conversion, Spatial distortion
Unique Skill: Spatial Manipulation
[System Advisory: High Level Threat.]
Ishmael's eyes narrowed slightly. "He really is different from the others." He said briefly analyzing its status panel.
That was enough.
Ishmael moved.
There was no hesitation, no probing strike. His body surged forward in a blur, Spirit Energy flaring as it reinforced every fiber of his being. The ground shattered beneath his feet as he closed the distance instantly. His blade cut forward in a perfect line, aimed cleanly at the man's neck.
Fast. Precise. Lethal.
It didn't land.
Not because it was blocked, but because the space between them shifted. The distance stretched unnaturally, as though reality itself had been pulled apart. His blade passed through empty air.
Baelor hadn't moved.
"Too direct," he said softly.
A distortion formed behind Ishmael.
He twisted instinctively, but it was already too late. A metallic spike materialized midair and drove straight into his side.
Blood splattered as the force threw him forward. His body crashed across the fractured ground before he forced himself to stabilize, skidding to a halt. A single drop of blood hit the ground.
Ishmael glanced down at the wound. It was deep, clean, and precise.
"Spatial manipulation," he muttered through gritted teeth. Letting his Spirit Energy surge, sealing his wound.
"Mm," the Incursion replied as he walked forward slowly, hands at his sides. Another metallic spike formed beside him, rotating lazily. "And metal. No wasted motion. No buildup. Just… creation."
The spike vanished, then reappeared directly in front of Ishmael's face.
He tilted his head just enough to avoid it, though it still sliced across his cheek, drawing a thin line of blood. The man's smile deepened slightly.
"You're reacting well."
Ishmael didn't answer. He moved again, faster this time. His body blurred, leaving afterimages as he attacked from multiple angles. His blade struck in rapid succession, left, right, above, below, each motion precise and lethal.
None of them landed.
Dark blue Spirit Energy surged as Space folded and redirected each strike. Every attack passed through distorted distance, missing by margins that shouldn't exist.
Then came the counter.
A metallic blade erupted from the ground beneath him, piercing straight through his thigh and anchoring him in place. Another formed behind him and slammed into his back.
His body jerked violently as blood spilled freely.
"Predictable," Baelor said calmly. That irritating smile is still on his face.
Ishmael's breathing deepened, but his expression remained steady. He forced himself forward, tearing free from the spikes. Flesh ripped, bone strained, but he didn't stop. His blade moved again, this time with silver energy flaring outward, extending its reach in a wide arc.
The attack tore through the surrounding distortions, and for a fraction of a second, the man stepped back. A shallow cut appeared across his sleeve.
Silence followed.
"Better,"he said, glancing at the damage with mild interest. "I was wondering when you'd start adapting."
Ishmael tightened his grip. Blood dripped steadily from his side, leg, and back. His body was already slowing, the accumulated damage beginning to show.
"You're not even trying," he said.
The man tilted his head slightly. "Trying?" he repeated, before letting out a soft laugh. "I am."
The ground shifted.
Dozens, then hundreds of metallic constructs formed in the air around them, each shaped into blades, spikes, or jagged shards. They hovered silently, all aimed at Ishmael.
"This is me being gentle."
They moved at once.
A storm of steel filled the air.
Ishmael reacted on instinct alone. He stepped, twisted, cut, and redirected, his blade flashing as silver energy extended and retracted with each motion. Some attacks he avoided, others he deflected.
Some he couldn't.
A spike tore through his shoulder. Another sliced across his ribs. A blade clipped his arm, sending blood spraying into the air.
His movements slowed, just slightly.
It was enough.
A massive metal construct formed above him and crashed down.
Ishmael raised his blade to block, but the impact shattered the ground beneath him. His body was driven into the earth, cracks spreading outward as debris filled the air.
For a moment, everything went still.
Then his hand moved.
Ishmael pushed himself up slowly, blood running down his face. His breathing had grown heavier, his body trembling faintly, not from fear, but from strain.
"Still standing," the Incursion boss said as he stepped closer. "Good."
He stopped a few meters away, observing him.
"You're close," he continued. "Closer than the others."
Ishmael forced himself upright, his blade lowering slightly under its own weight. "Others?" he asked.
"Mm," the man replied. "They broke faster."
Silence stretched between them.
"I haven't."
"Not yet."
Baelor raised his hand, coated in dark blue Spirit Energy, and the space around Ishmael tightened, invisible pressure compressed around him, locking his body in place.
"Your body has reached its limit," the man said calmly. "And your energy…"
A faint pulse followed.
"…is almost ripe for the taking."
Ishmael's vision blurred. His grip weakened, and his knees nearly gave out. For the first time since entering the zone, his body was truly failing him.
"So this is it," the man murmured as he stepped closer. "I take what you've built, devour you, and complete my Ascension."
His hand reached toward Ishmael's chest.
Ishmael's eyes dimmed slightly, not from fear, but from exhaustion.
Then
A voice whispered beside his ear.
"Why do you keep struggling against this insect, You already know what to do."
His eyes widened, a spark lit inside him as he came to a realization.
'Yes…why did I think I could beat him as a Second Ascendant'
The pressure didn't disappear, but it shifted.
"Stop holding it back," the voice continued, calm and ancient. "Let it out."
Something within him moved.
Not his body. Not his energy.
Something deeper.
His fingers tightened slowly around his blade, his head lowering slightly.
"…Tch…"
He took a breath.
"…So that's how it is."
The man paused, his expression shifting for the first time.
"…What?"
Ishmael's Spirit Energy changed.
It wasn't just stronger or denser, it was different. Wild. Unrestrained. Silver light began to leak from his body, no longer controlled or refined, but alive.
The ground beneath him cracked further, and the air trembled.
His wounds didn't heal, but they stopped mattering.
He lifted his head slowly, his eyes no longer calm, but burning.
"Fine."
The pressure around him shattered completely.
The man's hand froze mid-motion, and for the first time, something like caution flickered across his face.
Ishmael straightened fully, raising his blade as silver energy surged violently around him, spiraling outward like a storm barely contained.
System notifications started popping up but he barely glanced at them.
[Ding….]
[Advancement in progress….]
[Spirit Bond unsealing…]
The same voice spoke again. "You feel it Ishmael, say it…..Say it"
Then he spoke.
Clear. Cold. Absolute.
"Spirit Manifestation."
**BOOOMM!!**