The wind roared.

  The ground trembled.

  Invisible slashes carved craters into the earth, as if blades of air had torn the land itself apart.

  Zepharion (Decade) advanced, his spear of aerial chains whipping through space.

  Each thrust left a trail of pressure that made the air hiss like razor blades.

  — “Decade. The wind that corrodes slowly. No matter how long you resist, time always makes me the victor.”

  The battlefield was chaos:

  Trees fell in clean cuts, as if made of paper.

  The smell of ozone and burnt blood mixed with the thin air.

  The sound was a constant whistle, like a thousand invisible blades slicing the world.

  Souta, trapped between Silmure (Day) and Zepharion (Decade), spun his spoon with a sarcastic grin.

  Shadows writhed around him like hungry serpents.

  Zepharion struck first.

  The spear unraveled into chains of wind, whipping in multiple directions.

  Each strike was too fast for ordinary eyes, but Souta vanished with Shadow Step, reappearing behind him.

  Silmure allowed no rest:

  Her invisible threads stretched like webs, trying to bind Souta every time he reappeared.

  Sound vanished whenever she moved her fingers, creating a suffocating silence.

  Souta activated the Gourd Spoon.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  His body glowed with dense shadows, muscles tensed, speed and strength multiplied.

  He charged into close combat, dodging wind slashes and threads at the same time.

  The impact was brutal:

  Each punch from Souta made the air explode in shockwaves.

  Each dodge was millimetric, like a dance between invisible blades.

  The ground cracked beneath his feet, and the smell of scorched earth spread.

  Creamy echoed in his mind, dripping with irony:

  — “Master, congratulations. You’re officially in one of those episodes where the protagonist fights multiple bosses at once.”

  Souta laughed, even surrounded.

  — “Great. Always wanted to be an impossible statistic.”

  He raised the spoon, and the shadows opened like portals.

  Draconic Spoon: blasts of ice and fire erupted simultaneously, creating an elemental storm.

  The ice froze part of Silmure’s threads, which shattered like glass.

  The fire exploded against Zepharion, ripping the field apart in flames and smoke.

  The impact was devastating.

  The explosion lit the black forest like an artificial sun.

  The smell of sulfur and burnt ice spread through the air.

  Zepharion was hit, thrown back, but rose with a cold smile.

  — “The wind does not break… it simply waits. And erodes.”

  Souta dashed forward at absurd speed, each step a blur.

  He appeared before Zepharion, dodging the spear with minimal, almost lazy movements.

  A direct punch to the stomach.

  The air detonated.

  Zepharion was hurled into a tree, coughing blood.

  Souta spun the spoon on his shoulder, grinning.

  — “This is the wind that corrodes slowly? Feels more like a summer breeze.”

  Zepharion clenched his teeth, humiliated.

  He retreated, keeping distance, the spear spinning in circles to form a barrier of wind.

  — “It doesn’t matter… time always wins. I will erode you, even if it takes ages.”

  Souta laughed, dripping sarcasm.

  — “Oh great. The villain who runs away and starts philosophizing. Seen this episode before.”

  Stingara tried to help, but was repelled by Ignarok’s flames, still crushing her elsewhere on the battlefield.

  Souta, alone against two Tempest-class foes, kept smiling.

  The shadows writhed around him, as if hell itself had chosen a new master.

  The wind roared.

  Silence suffocated.

  But Souta stood firm, humiliating his enemies with no rush to kill them.

  The Chain Hunter had found someone he could not wear down.

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