Azel's chains clattered to the ground with a heavy echo, briefly masking the tension building like a storm in the narrow street.
The metal links coiled at Azel's knees like a discarded serpent. He dared not move. Not even breathe.
Standing before him was Steven and just inches away from Steven's blade was Gorran whose eyes were locked in primal fear.
But even fear couldn't outweigh his survival instincts.
Steven stepped forward, the blade of his long sword shining with an otherworldly blue aura — its edge hummed with spiritual pressure, pure and refined, as if the air itself was trying to stay out of its path.
Then he moved.
A blur. A flash. A killing stroke.
The sword plunged straight for Gorran's face — aimed cleanly between his eyes.
A kill shot.
But before it could land —
Cling!
A glowing magic circle, violet in color and riddled with ancient glyphs appeared inches from Gorran's head.
The sword struck it, halted for a mere instant, and in that instant...
Gorran moved.
Azel's eyes widened. For a man with that build and bulk, the speed was inhuman.
He dashed to the right, cloak fluttering, narrowly escaping the shattering circle as Steven's sword punched clean through it, embedding into the brick behind.
"Rekk'sa!!" Gorran roared.
The lamian didn't hesitate. His scaled face contorted into something primal.
He hissed and lunged forward, mouth opening unnaturally wide.
His tongue — a grotesque thing longer than a man's arm shot out.
It coiled like a whip, wrapping tightly around Steven's right wrist.
Fsssss!
Smoke hissed as it burned through his robe, eating into the fabric and scorching the flesh beneath.
Acidic saliva, it was corrosive and highly magical.
Steven didn't even flinch.
His eyes glowed an intense blue, and the aura around his sword sharpened, swirling tighter and tighter like a divine whirlwind.
With a flick of his left hand —
Slice.
Rekk'sa's tongue dropped to the ground, severed, still twitching.
The lamian screamed, stumbling back, hissing in agony as blood sprayed in arcs.
Then Steven stepped forward.
Just one step. That was all he needed.
And he vanished.
Boom.
A shockwave cracked through the air as he reappeared in front of Rekk'sa.
No words.
Just a flash of silver.
Slash!
One cut.
Then another.
Then forty-two.
In the blink of an eye, Steven's blade danced through the air, too fast for mortal eyes.
It carved precise, brutal paths through Rekk'sa's body, slicing scales, flesh, and bone apart in perfect segments.
The world fell into silence.
Rekk'sa stood still.
Then —
Squchhh.
He fell apart.
Chunks of body rained to the ground, blood spraying upward like a geyser before painting the stones red.
Azel, dazed, could only gape.
"STOP!"
The shout shattered the moment.
Gorran had moved during the exchange, dragging the fallen chains toward him.
One hand gripped the metal — the other held Azel by the neck, lifting him into the air like a ragdoll.
The bald trafficker was panicked now, his magic gathering wildly at his free palm.
A blazing red circle formed above it, spinning with heat. The ground cracked beneath him as embers danced in the wind.
"Take one step forward and I'll cook this kid alive!" Gorran snarled. "I swear it! I'll do it!"
Azel's eyes widened. He could feel the burning aura from that spell — it wasn't bluff. The magic circle hissed with the promise of incineration.
His throat constricted. Oxygen fled. His vision blurred at the edges.
'No… not like this…'
But adrenaline had a way of rewriting instincts.
CHOMP.
Azel bit down hard on Gorran's wrist.
"AAAAAARGH!!"
The older man screamed, staggering back as blood gushed from the bite.
CRACK.
He threw Azel away… hard.
Azel's body slammed into the nearby wall, spine-first.
The world spun. Concrete met skull, and his vision dimmed like a dying lantern.
"...That was a mistake," Steven said.
He was now in front of Gorran, and his blade pointed directly at the bald magician.
The heat of Gorran's spell crackled, but his arm trembled. Fear overtook his anger.
Slash!
Steven moved.
He appeared behind Gorran, sword mid-swing. One of Gorran's arms flew into the air.
BOOM.
The dismembered limb detonated, erupting into a burst of blood mid-flight — magic-infused limbs often did that when severed.
Gorran screamed again, clutching the stump as Steven turned toward him.
"You're no man," Steven said, voice cold and echoing like judgment itself. "You're filth pretending to be one."
Slash.
The second arm flew off next, spiraling before it too exploded into viscera.
Gorran dropped to his knees, face contorted in agony.
Steven walked forward, each step slow, deliberate.
"You steal children. You sell them to monsters. You burned homes. Broke families."
His sword lifted.
"You're worse than beasts."
SHLNK.
One leg gone.
SHLNK.
The other leg joined it.
Now Gorran was nothing but a stump, writhing on the ground, gasping and choking on pain and blood.
Steven towered over him, the glow of his blade reflecting in his icy eyes.
"You sold your humanity long ago."
The final stroke came swift.
Slash.
The sword cleaved through Gorran's chest, neatly severing his heart. Blood fountained upward.
Gorran's eyes widened for a moment — then dulled.
He collapsed.
A pool of red spread beneath him like a guilty confession.
[Congratulations for completing 'Prologue — No Way Home']
That was the last thing Azel saw before losing his consciousness, his body falling forward but Steven caught him.
"You did good..."