'Ah, finally got him.' He told himself, taking a deep inhale as a surge of pain erupted inside his body.
He fell to his knees, a series of haggard breaths forced through his throat was all that was heard as he weakly fell down, rolling over to his back. "Poison's a bitch." He calmly stated out loud, catching the attention of the man wielding a dagger.
The other Paragon curiously eyed the man who lay on the floor, weaponless, but full of pride. "You fought well, Lorus."
The words burrowed into Lorus's heart; They weren't a compliment, it was a stark reminder of how weak he was.
He could've been stronger.
He should've.
The raspy breaths squeezed out of his throat began shortening, each whiff an exhausting effort to keep himself alive. A series of footsteps echoed in his ears as the sun was drowned out, a shadow in the shape of a body eclipsing the sun. "Rest well." Was the last sentence he heard before a blinding slash severed his neck from his shoulders, a torrent of blood spewing all over the ground.
From afar, the Emperors were engaged in a violent battle, each warrior fighting not just for their own life, but for the people they protect. Each blow carried the weight of a thousand words, each strike carrying the conviction of an executioner.
They didn't kill for honor.
They didn't kill for satisfaction.
They killed for their homelands, the innocent children and civilians who all wished to live a happy life. For if they fell here, their deaths would only hasten the demise of their birthlands.
One of these Emperors was Jason.
His stubble was gone, replaced by a cleanly shaved beard that portrayed the look of a young, scholarly man in his mid-twenties. Black hair poured down to his shoulders, neatly tied back into a ponytail. At this moment, his face was flush with handsome, sharp features that made him quite the looker back in the day, a far different contrast than 11 years later.
His sword swept upward, catching the blade of an opposing Emperor. The tip of his sword guided his opponents outward until he had enough space to retract his arms.
He pulled back, his arms in position to strike again, while his opponent was still in the middle of his swing. A wave of mana radiated off Jason's blade, a crescent shape of golden light trailing his weapon as he skillfully slashed the abdomen of the man. A spray of blood splattered onto Jason's armor, but he didn't stop. The blow was too shallow.
He took a deep step inward, past the guard of the man, and swung again, his sword digging into the innards and throughout the other side, cleanly slicing his body in half.
His temporary moment of triumph wasn't celebrated as an alarming abundance of mana ticked his mana sense off, and his eyes quickly flicked over to his side. To the faint eye, there was nothing.
No large sphere, no object, it was an empty space. Yet, his instincts screamed at him, a chilling tingle racing down his spine. Subconsciously, his body channeled the mana from each node in his body into a large blanket that overlapped Jason's entire body. A basic skill that offered the fastest method to activate a defense, yet the potency solely depended on the output of mana injected into the barrier. The invisible attack crashed into his shoulder, his body caving in as the force was tremendous enough to blast straight through him if his mana shield wasn't activated.
A deafening crack resounded from the contact point when his body was launched at blinding speeds across the battlefield, leaving behind a large gust of sand and upheaving of mud that rained upon everyone. It wasn't the power of a King-Tier or Emperor-Tier soldier; Jason was never hit harder than that in his entire life.
His eyes opened in a daze, the world blinking into a million different afterimages as his head lazily swayed from side to side on the ground. The world was a grim hysteria as everything was blurred together, performing a bizarre creation in his mind.
Pyloak, the dagger-wielding Paragon, walked over, his emerald irises a menacing slit as his gaze was fixated on the dazed Jason, his footsteps an enchanting loom of death as he neared. His hood was borne upon his head, a grim shadow cast over his face. Yet, his eyes shone from behind the cast shadow, a terrifying sight for the muddled Jason. His brain yelled against him moving, but his perseverance shone through, a spiritual image of candescent rays beaming from within his shell of a mortal husk portrayed upon the world.
The marvel caught the eyes of any nearby soldiers, the harmonious tune of battle pausing as a spectacle was born.
Pyloak's gait stuttered as the sight registered in his mind, a subtle whisper emitting from his mouth. "Spiritual construct?" Every nerve in his body tingled at the sight, a premonition of danger becoming home on his back. Spiritual constructs were among the rarest types of Mana States in the universe; a total 0.103% of the population had this bestowment. Soul attacks were simply the most lethal type in the universe, and it was no shock that Pyloak would have second thoughts about fighting Jason.
Yet, the pride blanketing his mind wouldn't let him back down. In front of all these soldiers, the same ones he hand-picked to join him on this defense, he would let them die? It was pathetic; he was a warrior with dignity and would die fighting if he had to.
That was the difference between the two.
One fought for their own image, the other fought for the salvation of their people.
Jason shot forward, his figure leaving a hazy afterimage in his wake as he crossed the distance of 50 meters in the blink of an eye.
Clanging of metal crashed upon eachother, bellowing across the planet as two great powers clashed head-on.
Pyloak coughed as he received the blow, his mind succumbing to the horrors that flooded his mind as if a thousand spiders were crawling inside his bones.
Jason retracted his sword, his arms ascending as his stance shifted, and his arms descended, his blade tearing through the air as a melodious clash traveled through the air.
Their weapons remained in a standstill as a struggle for strength ensued, their blows altering the fabric of reality as each parry, each clash caused the sporadic atoms to split and separate, the space around them appearing as an illusion.
A part of a tree 10 meters away was appearing right next to them; the sight was bizarre to anyone who had not grasped an insight into the Fourth Dimension.
Pyloak disturbed the space around him with natural strength; his tier was enough to barely dip his toes in the Fourth Dimension, while on the other hand, Jason's spiritual properties allowed him to perceive and act within the Fourth Dimension, albeit at a weaker level.
Jason executed a rapid series of blows, a metallic sheen of metal flickering from existence as nearly a dozen swords manifested in the space in front of him. Pyloak kept his eyes steady with both of his arms extended, each equipped with a curved dagger.
His emerald irises flared as a fluctuation of mana surged from his optic nerves, coating his vision in a surreal hue of green as a new layer of reality was exposed. The blades in front of him were stripped bare, his vision deciphering the puzzle as to which blades were real.
Suddenly, his hand flicked forward, his dagger crashing into a blade that was cloaked in the light, its form hidden by the rays of the sun. Shortly after, it faded into existence, and Pyloak spat at the ground. "Pulling out all the tricks cause I killed your friend, eh?"
Jason's pace stuttered.
"Who?"
Pyloak interlocked eyes with Jason casually, before a grin was plastered on his face. "Lorus, of course." He extended his index finger, his torso tilting slightly as his finger aimed at the headless corpse of Lorus, a pool of blood formed around his body.
Jason stared, his eyes slowly widening.
Something snapped, something primal.
His vision blackened, and he forgot the rest.