A sharp, wet sound echoed through the clearing as the Nylomorph's blade-like limb tore through the air. Ayelen gasped, clutching at his chest. The creature's strike had been precise, slashing right across his core.
These weren't like the Nylomites they had fought before. Nylomorphs were biological war machines, bred for the sole purpose of building an unstoppable army. They lacked the speech or the arrogance of a Nylomite. They didn't gloat, and they didn't hesitate. They were just mindless, overwhelming force. Even Glasen, the strongest of the Nylomites, feared these silent stalkers more than he feared Vanzayoree himself.
"Ayelen!" Arnold shouted, his boots skidding on the dirt as he rushed toward his comrade. "Are you okay? Can you move?"
Ayelen winced, his breath coming in ragged hitches as he pressured the wound on his chest. "Yeah... I'm fine for now. Just run! If we stay here, we're nothing but prey!"
He tried to stand, but the air suddenly felt heavy. A second Nylomorph materialized from the shadows, blocking Vermilliya's path. Then, a third one stepped out, looming over Arnold. The team was boxed in. Three of them.
Without a single sound, the monsters lunged.
The air whistled with the speed of their claws. The team managed to dive out of the way, the ground where they had just stood exploding into dust and debris.
"They aren't like the others!" Ayelen screamed, his voice cracking with desperation. "They're literal monsters!"
Arnold scrambled back, his eyes darting to the unconscious form of Flauge lying nearby. "Wake up, Mr. Flauge! We need you!" He yelled, but Flauge remained still, his breathing shallow and unresponsive.
In the chaos, a memory flickered through Arnold's mind.
It was during their training, a rare moment of quiet. Arnold had looked over at the ancient being and asked a question that had been nagging at him. "You said you're thirty million years old... have you ever actually loved someone? Like, deeply?"
Flauge had paused, a soft, weary smile tugging at his lips. He let out a long sigh that seemed to carry the weight of centuries. "Umm... actually, there was someone. But it's complicated. You know how gods are."
Arnold poked him in the shoulder, nudging for more. "Come on, tell me."
Flauge's expression darkened slightly. "I lost her. Right in front of my eyes. I was only twenty-seven back then. For a long time, I clung to the hope that she survived, but that was just a lie I told myself. The one who killed her... it was Vanzayoree."
Arnold's jaw dropped. "What?"
"Vanzayoree is trapped for a reason," Flauge continued, his voice dropping to a serious whisper. "There is a balance. If a God of Destruction is released, a God of Moderation must be created. That's why all divine powers, except for Nyloxin, were sealed away. I call myself a god, but I'm not there yet. I only become a true god when my Perfect Form is executed. It's the same for you, Arnold. Once you unlock your Perfect Form, you unleash your full potential. That is why we have to complete the mission... the Secret Dungeon."
"Secret Dungeon?" Arnold had asked, but the memory faded as the present roared back to life.
A Nylomorph loomed over Vermilliya and Ayelen, its arm raised like a guillotine. It swung down, a blur of lethal intent.
Slash!
Vermilliya flinched, closing her eyes and waiting for the pain. It never came. When she opened them, she saw a figure standing in front of her, bathed in a strange, pulsing aura.
It was Arnold.
He stood perfectly still, yet the air around him seemed to vibrate. The Nylomorphs sensed the shift and immediately turned their aggression toward him. All three rushed him at once, a whirlwind of claws and teeth.
Arnold didn't even look stressed. As the first claw reached for his throat, he moved—a slight tilt of the head, a step to the left. He was dodging their attacks effortlessly, his movements so fluid they looked like a dance.
"How...?" Ayelen stammered, watching from the ground.
Arnold stopped playing defense. He lunged forward, his fists becoming a blur as he began to beat the creatures with terrifying strength. Every strike landed with a sickening thud.
"Repulsive Rear!" Arnold barked.
He slammed his hand against the nearest Nylomorph. The creature's body began to twist violently, the space around it warping until it was shredded into thin, noodle-like strands of flesh and bone.
Before the others could react, Arnold drew his sword. He moved with a speed that defied the eye.
"Multivision!"
The blade didn't just swing; it seemed to multiply in the air, a dozen spectral edges cutting through the atmosphere simultaneously. In an instant, the heads of the remaining Nylomorphs hit the dirt.
Silence returned to the clearing. The oppressive tension lifted, replaced by a calm that felt almost heavy. Ayelen stared at Arnold, his chest still heaving.
"How did you do that?" Ayelen asked, his voice shaking. "Those things were too fast to dodge like that."
Arnold wiped a smudge of dark blood from his cheek. "It's a technique I've been working on. I use my Nyloxin cells to repel the energy of other cells. Think of it like two magnets with the same pole. I make my cells release a specific negative energy. When an enemy tries to touch me, the forces push them away. We never actually make contact."
Arnold walked over and reached out a hand to Ayelen. "You did your best, bro."
Ayelen froze, looking at Arnold's outstretched hand. That single word bro hit him harder than any of the Nylomorph's attacks. For a split second, he didn't see a teammate. He felt like Arnold was his own flesh and blood.
Nearby, a groan broke the silence. Flauge shifted, rubbing his head and muttering under his breath as he finally began to wake up.
CHAPTER 22 ENDS