The man stood atop the highest branch of the lone tree as though it were solid ground, clad in armor that gleamed faintly beneath the moon's silver light. Gold and pale steel intertwined across his frame in intricate, deliberate patterns, the craftsmanship far surpassing even the artificer plate of her own sons. Thick pauldrons framed his broad shoulders, yet the branch beneath his boots did not so much as dip or tremble beneath the weight.
Not a single leaf rustled out of place.
It was wrong.
His bronze skin caught the moonlight where his helm lay absent, sharp features carved in calm defiance as strands of dark hair shifted gently with the breeze, the silver glow tracing the sharp line of his jaw.
Hyppolita roared.
The sound tore through the clearing as she lunged forward, chainaxe howling to life. With a single brutal swing, she cleaved through the trunk of the tree he stood upon. The silver wood split cleanly, collapsing in a violent cascade of splinters.
She pivoted instantly, eyes scanning for where he would land.
There was nothing.
"Up here."
The voice boomed from above.
Hyppolita's head snapped upward just in time to see the armored giant descending toward her, fists clasped together overhead like a falling meteor.
She raised her axe, aiming to sever both wrists mid-descent—
—but every instinct she possessed screamed.
Dodge.
She hurled herself sideways.
The impact was catastrophic.
The earth detonated where she had stood, a crater blooming outward in a shockwave that flattened the surrounding grass. Soil and shattered stone rained into the air.
At the center of it stood the man.
Smirking.
Now on level ground, she could see him clearly.
He was nearly her height — perhaps a fraction shorter — yet the presence he exuded pressed against her senses like a physical force. Calm. Grounded. Unmoved.
Her bloodlust wavered.
Caution seeped in.
The Nails punished her for it, a spike of pain lancing through her skull.
She ignored it.
With a snarl, she surged forward, chainaxe carving a wide arc aimed at his neck.
"You have good instincts!" he laughed.
A heavy axe materialized in his previously empty hand — crystalline metal forming in an instant — and met her strike head-on. Sparks erupted as chain-teeth screeched against solid edge.
She twisted sharply, rotating on her heel and driving a brutal roundhouse kick toward his abdomen.
Her shin struck—
—and stopped.
His hand had caught her leg mid-swing.
The grip tightened.
The world flipped.
She was slammed into the ground hard enough to fracture stone. The impact reverberated through her spine, but she rebounded instantly, pushing off the cratered earth—
A fist drove into her stomach.
Air exploded from her lungs.
The second strike caught her jaw.
She was launched backward, tearing through several silver trees before skidding across the field.
The man was already moving.
Hyppolita spat blood and forced herself upright just as he closed the distance again.
This time, she did not meet him head-on.
She ducked low beneath his swing, bringing her axe upward in a vicious rising cleave that bit deep into the seam of his shoulder joint. Teeth shrieked as they dug into armor.
A grin spread across her face.
" Got you— "
He did not even slow.
He shrugged.
The blade tore free as though it had struck stone.
His forehead slammed into hers.
Stars burst across her vision.
Before she could recover, his fist drove into her ribs, cracking ceramite and sending her skidding once more.
Rage consumed her fully now.
The Nails howled in approval.
She charged again, abandoning form for fury.
Her axe became a whirlwind — horizontal sweeps, brutal overhead cleaves, rapid reverse grips meant to maim rather than kill. She fought like a storm, like a beast unchained, each strike carrying enough force to level tanks.
He met every blow.
Sometimes with his axe.
Sometimes with his gauntlet.
Sometimes with nothing but his body.
Each impact that would have bisected a dreadnought only forced him back a single step.
She roared and lunged, tackling him bodily. The two crashed across the field, tearing trenches into the silver earth. She rained blows down upon him — headbutts, elbows, teeth bared as she tried to rip through his throat.
He laughed.
And laughed.
One hand caught her wrist mid-swing.
The other gripped her throat.
He lifted her.
Effortlessly.
Her boots left the ground.
For a fraction of a second, something cold slipped into her chest.
Desperation.
With a guttural roar, she lunged forward instead of back — sinking her teeth into the hand wrapped around her throat. Ceramite ground against her fangs before she found purchase at the joint, breaking skin and drawing blood.
Warm.
Metallic.
Real.
The man did not flinch.
Not even a breath shifted.
His arm moved.
And the world inverted.
He slammed her into the earth with such force that the ground shattered beneath her, another crater blooming outward in a violent ring of displaced soil and fractured stone. The impact should have stunned her.
She rebounded instantly, Nails screaming inside her skull as she launched upward with a feral snarl. Her fist connected with his jaw — once, twice — followed by a knee driven into his ribs hard enough to collapse a tank's hull. She tore her fallen chainaxe from the dirt and carved upward in a wild diagonal slash meant to disembowel.
He shifted half a step.
The blade tore across his armor instead, shrieking uselessly.
She didn't stop.
She abandoned form entirely.
A headbutt split her own brow open as it crashed against his helm-less face. Elbows, knees, teeth — every limb became a weapon as she battered him relentlessly.
She tackled him again, forcing both of them into the ground, her gauntleted fists hammering down in a frenzy meant to pulp bone and crack skull.
He caught one wrist.
Then the other.
Their eyes met.
With a howl that bordered on madness, she wrenched free at the cost of tearing muscle, ignoring the agony as she spun and delivered a full-bodied cleave aimed at his neck. When he blocked it, she followed with a savage kick to his knee, then another to his temple, then drove forward shoulder-first to crush him beneath her weight.
He slid back with a smile, unfazed.
Her breaths came ragged now. Vision narrowing. Nails drilling deeper as if enraged by her fading clarity.
Survive.
Kill.
Survive.
Her axe came down again.
And again.
And again.
"Kyrion."
The voice cut cleanly through the blood-soaked haze.
Not loud.
Not strained.
Simply absolute.
Hyppolita froze mid-swing.
Her head snapped around wildly, searching for the source.
The field was empty.
The man before her had stopped moving.
Then she noticed it.
The shadows beneath her feet.
They were stretching.
Lengthening unnaturally across the silver grass.
Slowly, she lifted her gaze toward the sky.
The moon had moved.
No—
It had descended.
The once-distant silver sphere now engulfed the heavens entirely, its radiant glow swallowing the stars, bathing the field in blinding, ethereal light. It felt closer. Vast. Overwhelming.
Watching.
Her body went slack.
The Butcher's Nails erupted in a final, excruciating surge of pain — yet she barely felt it. The agony seemed distant beneath the crushing weight of that luminous presence.
Beautiful.
Terrifying.
Inevitable.
"Bring her to me."
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P. S: Hello guys, sorry for the lack of updates, Author has been sick, And I've been busy with school, not really a lot of time for writing, for him and editing for me
Here's a new fic written by the same author, enjoy!