Raiten:

  I strangle Baroth with Meteorfang, riding atop his back as we—well, fly through the air isn’t a good description. Rather, it's as if Baroth is trying to maul the wind, wings snapping like blades and body spinning, trying to toss me off of him.

  I pull harder, constricting his throat, running lightning against his nape. The crimson burns his flesh and purple blood oozes out like sticky honey droplets.

  His antlers stretch to pierce me off but I create a small area of lightning around my body to keep them at bay—which works well until the boy re-enters the battle. Thirty seconds ago, I outplayed Souta and sent him flying across the battlefield, focusing my attention on Baroth—who incessantly kept regenerating the boy’s wounds.

  But now Souta is back, swinging down from the clouds and enveloping his body in verdant. He only wields the wakizashi, which he kisses against his body, holding it out to me, lightning coalescing on its tip.

  I try ducking low to mold myself to Baroth. However, the Elk bridges his back up, bouncing me off and into Souta’s strike.

  I take the blade in the shoulder.

  Pain lances. Reason falters as he drives the sword deeper, twisting, blood spraying, our forms shooting towards the ground.

  I clasp the rattling chain of Meteorfang, which goes taut on Baroth’s neck and halts our movement.

  We jerk under the Elk, swinging from him like a cloud. I try pulling Souta in, but he’s smarter than that now—knows I’ll probably just bite his other ear off. So, he withdraws his blade and kicks away, pumping lightning into my chest. He uses the kick to leap for Baroth. I wince as the green scrambles across my stomach, burning it black, adding to my veiny canvas of electric scars.

  Souta tries to cut the chain midair, but his blade bounces back. So, he grabs for Baroth’s antlers, hoists himself on the Elk’s back, and presses his blade under the knot of Meteorfang, lifting it from Baroth’s neck.

  The Elk writhes and coughs bloody spittle, which rains atop me.

  The shogun lets the chain slide off his blade and I fall at the apex of my swing.

  My lungs heave from his earlier lightning blast. Yet, I manage to create momentum, spinning my body and casting three Aether outlined bolts of lightning at Baroth’s underside. Souta spots them and tries to get the Elk to move.

  But Baroth, although fast for his size, is still too busy recovering from my strangle hold.

  So the bolts do hit, sending them both soaring into the sky, making large holes through the clouds above.

  I turn to the ground and imbue my legs with lightning to take to fall. Still hurts like a bastard. I hear something crunch in my ankle, so I hop up from the landing and bang my fist against the leg.

  Whatever’s broken doesn’t set.

  I summon more Aether, noting how thin my mana reserves are becoming, and I wrap the leg with a thin rope of blue, constricting it.

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  Then I hit it again.

  This time, it sets properly with a painful snap. I test it against the ground and keep my eye on the prize, searching the sky for both my assailants.

  I have to also keep track of how much angel dust remains. The temptation to pop another amulet needles me, but I don’t want to do that until I have used every last drop of this one.

  After all, given their powers, who knows how long it will take to kill both of these bastards?

  But I’m doing better than I thought. If I can keep them apart, use Meteorfang to create distance, then maybe I can kill the boy before the Elk can regenerate him. Then, it's just a matter of beating Baroth. And I’ve done that twice before.

  With Sorina’s help the second time.

  I shake my head and clutch my fists. Lightning roars through me and I feel as though it is responding to my rage like never before. Whenever I strike, the lightning responds ferally, sparking out like raging limbs of chaos—an extension of my wrath.

  The sun peaks through the clouds and a golden light sprays the glades, illuminating the giant weapons in heavenly splendor.

  Then, a glint of silver catches my eye.

  I aim towards it, spinning Meteorfang and setting my feet in an Iron Winter stance. My shoulder still bleeds, so I cauterize the flesh with lightning and grimace as the burn steams up, smoke golden in the light and the smell of flesh now intermingling with the stench of all the plagued gore on me.

  The silver strikes down, moving fast. Too fast.

  And it's not outlined by the telltale green.

  What in the hells—do I know this—

  A warbling sounds off and reminds my body of wounds that nearly tore me apart.

  My constitution begins to crumble. Iron Winter shakes.

  There’s no way. This has to be some sick fucking joke.

  Are all my enemies coming back? Does anything I do matter?

  Meteorfang spins faster and I throw it at the spear.

  But the Lady—Crooked, Sadai—answers by parrying it with her three blade arms and swinging the hammer hand at my body.

  I charge into her, dodging the arc of the swing and fighting close-quarters with chain-gauntleted fists, using Iron Winter and Eternal Spring in concert with my lightning.

  We clash all around the glades. The ground quakes, making all weapons rumble like a chorus to this spear’s own shrieking. I spider around her, fight at angles, punch and kick to bend her metal and break it.

  She responds in kind, opening more wounds in thirty seconds than Souta did in our entire ten minute duel. Even though she beat the ever-living shit out of me during the battle at the ruins, I didn’t have lightning then. Now the odds are more even. I give as much as I take, blasting kicks into her body and opening scraping wounds of metal, through which her insides glow with purple haze.

  I’m riding her head and punching the kunai down into her skull when Baroth and Souta fly back into the battle, both shooting their respective elements at our forms. I jump off the Lady and dodge behind a great nodachi buried into a hill. Their projectiles clang off the blade. Smoke blooms.

  Before I can use the smoke as cover and counter their blows, the Lady is on me in an instant. She swings around the blade and kicks out with her legs. They hit like battering rams. I go tumbling down the hill.

  I groan as I hit the bottom, body aching to the bones. Still, I manage to force my weary gaze upwards. My three enemies face me down. The Lady’s blades gleam, Baroth’s breath burns azure, and Souta Matahashi’s last blade drips with my blood.

  I could run.

  I probably should have a few minutes ago—that would've been the smart move.

  But Baroth killed Sorina.

  I sigh.

  And I stand up. Punch my shoulder a bit and try to roll it to diffuse the pain. Spit some blood.

  Start limping up the hill.

  Then, I do what I do best—the one thing I’m good at—the one purpose I’m made for—the only reason I have left to live:

  I fight.

  A dying world. A ruined body. A debt that should not be his.

  What to expect:

  

  
• 3 to 4 chapters a week


  
• weak to strong MC


  
• headstrong MC


  
• cultivation


  
• xianxia cultivation world