The moment the boundary of the planet was crossed, something arrived. It wasn't a meteor or a stray satellite. It was a Nylomite.
His name was Crown, an SSS-rank entity from the jagged, dark world of Planet Arkon. He was one of the strongest of his kind, a creature built for the sole purpose of ending lives. But he wasn't just powerful; he was incredibly dangerous because he knew how to hide.
The air around him remained unnervingly still. No energy leaked from his pores. No presence could be sensed by the sensors of the world. He moved like a ghost, his mind replaying the warning that had been burned into his memory.
Flashback
The space was pitch black, a void where only shadows lived. Another figure stood before Crown, a silhouette so tall and dominant that the very atmosphere seemed to bow. It was Glasen, the strongest Nylomite to ever exist.
"When you enter that planet," Glasen had said, his voice heavy like grinding tectonic plates, "shut down your energy completely."
He paused, his glowing eyes pinning Crown to the spot. "Not even a single trace. Not a flicker."
Crown had listened with bated breath.
"If you release even a little," Glasen continued, "Flauge will find you. His senses are sharper than a razor's edge."
A moment of heavy silence followed.
"And if he finds you before the work is done..." Glasen didn't finish the sentence. He didn't have to. "You are not strong enough to face him. None of you are."
Crown hadn't responded, but the cold weight of fear had settled in his chest.
"Complete your mission quietly," Glasen ordered. "Don't make mistakes. The stakes are too high for pride."
Back to the Present
Crown stood on the soil of Earth, a hidden predator in a world of prey. He was watching. His target was clear: Arnold. The boy was a wild card, a variable that could interfere with the grand plan of Arkon.
It didn't take long for the predator to find his mark. Arnold was standing alone in a quiet area, the wind rustling his hair.
"You're Arnold," Crown said, stepping out from the shadows.
Arnold looked at him. He didn't flinch. He was unnervingly calm, his eyes silent as he sized up the stranger.
"I challenge you," Crown continued, his voice devoid of warmth. "Fight me. Now."
Arnold let out a weary sigh. He looked like a man who had already carried too much that day. "Not today." He turned his back, dismissing the threat. "I'll fight you some other time when I'm not so tired."
Crown's expression shifted. Frustration flared in his eyes. He wasn't used to being ignored. Without another word, he lunged.
Arnold moved instinctively, blocking a strike that would have shattered a normal man's ribs. "Stop," Arnold said, his voice hardening. "I told you, I don't want to fight right now."
But Crown didn't care about consent. "I don't repeat myself, boy."
Arnold stepped back, trying to create distance and avoid a pointless escalation. But then, Crown spoke again, his voice dropping into a cruel, low whisper.
"If you don't fight me..." Crown paused for maximum impact. "I'll go after your family. I'll start with the sister."
The silence that followed was freezing. Arnold's eyes changed instantly. The weariness vanished, replaced by a cold, dark spark. Slowly, he reached into his pocket and took out the device Flauge had given him, holding it tightly in his palm.
Crown noticed the movement immediately. "We fight alone," he said quickly, his eyes narrowing. "No outside help. No teachers. Just us."
Arnold looked at him for a long beat, then gave a slow, grim nod.
They moved to a nearby baseball ground. It was empty, the bleachers casting long, jagged shadows across the dirt. It was perfect. They stood facing each other as the sun began to dip below the horizon.
The fight began.
At first, Crown didn't attack seriously. He was testing the waters. He dodged Arnold's strikes, moving around with a fluid, mocking grace. He watched Arnold's form, searching for an opening. Arnold attacked with a flurry of punches and kicks, his movements sharp and practiced. But Crown avoided everything effortlessly, a faint, condescending smile appearing on his face.
"Is this it?" Crown taunted. "You're much weaker than I expected. Is this the boy they're so worried about?"
Arnold didn't respond. He kept his breathing steady, his mind focused.
Minutes passed. Five. Ten. The fight continued in a rhythmic dance of violence. Arnold remained calm, fighting with his normal technique, observing every twitch of Crown's body.
Then, something felt wrong. Arnold focused his senses, reaching out to feel the life force of his opponent. His heart nearly skipped a beat. There was no heartbeat. No blood flow. No warmth. Crown felt empty, like a hollow shell of meat and bone.
Arnold's expression hardened. He realized he was dealing with something far beyond a normal warrior. He slowly reached for the device again, intent on calling for backup.
But Crown moved instantly, a blur of speed that Arnold couldn't track. A sharp strike landed right on Arnold's hand. The device shattered, pieces of plastic and metal scattering into the dirt.
"For safety," Crown said calmly, his eyes cold.
The surroundings suddenly seemed to warp. The baseball ground felt more isolated, more distant, as if they had been pulled into a pocket of silence where no one could hear them.
Far away, Flauge paused. For a fraction of a second, his head tilted. He felt it. A small, microscopic trace of negative energy. It was gone as quickly as it appeared, but it was enough. He moved immediately, his body becoming a streak of light. He reached the baseball ground in seconds, but it was empty. There was no sign of Arnold, only the broken pieces of the device glinting in the dirt. Flauge's eyes narrowed into slits. He began to search.
Meanwhile, Arnold and Crown stood in their new, isolated location.
"You're not leaving this place alive," Crown said, his voice flat and final.
Arnold took a deep, steadying breath. He looked at his bruised knuckles and then at the monster before him. Maybe this was it. His final fight. Slowly, he took a stance that felt more natural than any other.
"Unomone," he whispered.
The fight restarted with a violent explosion of movement. Arnold attacked first, his speed reaching new heights. Crown blocked the strike but felt the sting of the impact. He countered, grabbing Arnold by the hair and pulling him down with brutal force.
Arnold hit the ground hard. Before he could even gasp, Crown slammed him into the dirt again. A knee strike followed, slamming straight into Arnold's face. The sound of breaking skin was sickening.
Before Arnold could recover, Crown unleashed a barrage of punches. Again. And again. Arnold's mouth began to bleed heavily, the copper taste of it filling his throat. He struggled to find his footing, managing to land a desperate kick to Crown's chest. He grabbed Crown's wrist, trying to use a joint lock to break the arm, but Crown reacted too fast.
The Nylomite was too skilled, too experienced. He countered everything Arnold threw at him. And then, he went on the offensive.
It was relentless. Arnold couldn't keep up with the sheer speed and power. Blow after blow rained down on him until his body finally gave in. He fell to the ground, bleeding from his nose, his mouth, and cuts above his eyes.
Crown stepped closer, looking down at the broken boy. "This is over."
He raised his hand for the finishing blow.
Crack!
A gunshot echoed through the clearing. A bullet tore through the air and hit Crown's shoulder. It didn't do much damage, but it was enough of a distraction. Crown turned his head, his eyes widening in surprise.
In that split second, Arnold moved. With every last ounce of strength he had left, he lunged. He grabbed Crown's arm with both hands and, with a guttural roar of pure agony and rage, he tore the limb clean off.
Blood sprayed across the dirt. Crown stepped back, his face contorting, but he didn't panic. He spun in mid-air and delivered a devastating, powerful kick to Arnold's chest. Arnold flew back like a ragdoll, hitting the ground with a thud that knocked the consciousness right out of him.
Nearby, a man stood trembling. He was holding a gun, his hands shaking so much the barrel was dancing. He was the gunman who had fired the shot. Crown looked at him, his eyes burning with a murderous light.
Fear filled the man's soul. He turned to run, but Crown caught him in a heartbeat, lifting him off the ground by his throat as if he weighed nothing.
Crown was about to snap the man's neck when suddenly, he gasped.
Something had pierced through his back. A massive, writhing tentacle made of pure, dark energy. Crown froze, his life force leaking out.
"What...?"
He turned his head slowly, looking back. Arnold was standing there. But it wasn't the Arnold he had been fighting. Energy was flowing from his body in chaotic waves, glowing with a terrifying, unstable light. His right hand had changed, shifting and forming into a jagged, sharp blade of energy.
In one fluid motion, Arnold swung. The blade cut through Crown's neck with surgical precision.
The head fell to the ground first. Total silence followed.
Crown's last thoughts faded as his vision went dark. This... was not planned. I didn't expect... that power...
His body began to break apart, turning into ash and disintegrating into the wind. Within seconds, he was gone. The fight was over.
The gunman collapsed to his knees, gasping for air. Arnold walked toward him slowly, his footsteps heavy. The glowing energy was fading, but the air still sizzled around him. He reached down and helped the man up.
"Thank you," Arnold said quietly, his voice raspy and strange. "You saved my life."
The man nodded weakly, still shaking. He looked at Arnold with a mix of gratitude and absolute terror. Arnold was no longer the same boy he had been minutes ago. Something inside him had awakened, something deep and ancient.
Arnold turned without another word and walked away into the night.
Later, he reached his home. He felt like a stranger in his own skin. He rang the bell and waited.
The door creaked open. Miyara stood there, her face lit by the hallway light. She looked at him, but her expression wasn't one of relief. She looked at his blood-stained clothes, his cold eyes, and the strange aura still clinging to him.
She took a step back, her voice trembling. "Who... who are you?"
Silence was his only answer.
• CHAPTER 10 ENDS •