A lightning-shrouded crossbow bolt plowed through the eastern wall, left a hole with a diameter of half a meter and then burst through the western wall, leaving a wake of shrieking and crackling sound waves that nearly deafened the group.

Estella’s confused expression would remain burned into Aren’s mind for the next few crucial minutes of hectic and panicked action. Estella couldn’t seem to come to terms with the fact that she had a huge hole in her torso, all the way through. The edge of the dinner-plate sized hole was smoldering on her half-breastplate, and the silken dress underneath was burned to blackened cinders.

“Disperse!” Fang shrieked with a tone that was neither commanding or authoritative; just terrified.

Aren stared at Estella. He couldn’t move a muscle. Every signal his brain sent to his body was just ignored. His arms were covered in goosebumps. He was half-deaf, but his mind was silenced as well. He couldn’t hear his own thoughts, because he didn’t have any.

Fang shook him. “Disperse!” he shouted into Aren’s face.

But he couldn’t move.

And yet, his heartbeat was normal. There was an energy in his body, but it wasn’t frantic, excited or nervous. It was still. Calm.

He wasn’t frozen in fear. He was paralyzed.

Another crossbow bolt flung itself through the room, this time leaving a trail of embers as electricity discharged from the bolt and set the walls on fire. The moisture in the wood expanded rapidly, causing the roof to explode and shower the street below with debris.

Against his will, he took a step backwards, pulling Fang along with him, just as another crossbow bolt rocketed into the room at speeds well over Mach one — Aren knew, because in his vision, he saw a velocity indicator above the bolt as it passed right in front of him in slow motion.

Aren felt his mind divide from his body as if a thick sheet of ice was between them. From the moment he realized he was paralyzed and not frozen in fear, he knew that something different was happening. Something related to Leviathan.

Fang looked horrified. The room around him was getting blown to smithereens by long range artillery, and he seemed passively aware of the fact that he almost ended up like Estella did. How could he not be? The latest bolt flew past his head so close that the shockwave trailing it nearly ripped his head off.

Without even looking, Aren drew a throwing knife and threw it into the air. It stopped, hovering above his head, and then pointed towards one of the holes, emitted a halo of lightning and a burst of sparks, and disappeared. A distant thunderclap surfaced in his consciousness a moment later.

[You have discovered a new Lightning Manipulation technique: Discharge]

[You have discovered a new Lightning Manipulation technique: Magnetism]

[You have discovered a new Lightning Blade technique: Lightning Driver]

[Injury inflicted. Severity: Fatal.]

[Injury inflicted. Severity: Serious.]

[Injury inflicted. Severity: Fatal.]

[Injury inflicted. Severity: Fatal.]

[Injury inflicted. Severity: Critical.]

[Injury inflicted. Severity: Fatal.]

[Injury inflicted. Severity: Fatal.]

The weakened wall in front of him exploded as if it was made of paper. In the wake of his [Flash], nothing but embers and smoldering ruins remains. He found himself high above the town, looking down. He couldn’t see anything in the darkness. No movement, no fires, no lights. He could see nothing.

And yet, his mind had traced back the trajectory of those bolts and his gaze turned towards a place where, once he stared at them for long enough, he could see faint traceries of fire — miniscule glints of light.

A burst of arcane light lit Aren up in the sky; it was of a faint blue color with a reddish glow, mixing together to create a purplish haze around Aren. Threads of electricity burned into the arcane halo, forming patterns that were identical to the ones Aren was forming in his buffer.

But he wouldn’t use the territory as an external buffer.

His body twisted in mid-air, hauling his weight over his center of gravity to turn in mid-air. His knees buckled up, absorbing the shock as they landed on the circular halo that detached from his body. The interference field provided a physical platform for the next [Flash], just as Aren saw flashes of electric light as a full salvo of crossbow bolts headed in his direction.

The crossbow bolts tore the territory to shreds; they blew holes into it as large as tennis balls and the arcane circle flashed with light as the instructions inscribed on it were blown apart and caused it to lose its light and then disincarnate into faint fragments of iridescent glitter.

Aren plowed into the stone pavement, causing a crater to rip the ground open as he landed on his feet. He had barely avoided the barrage of crossbow bolts, although calling it barely was an overstatement. They never had a chance to hit him, no matter how close it looked.

Then he used [Flash] again to close the distance, and his buffer shuddered — or so it felt like. It frantically tried to clear the remnant sequences of everything he had used in the past ten seconds, but it was unsuccessful. He was at the cusp of his buffer limit and even the simplest sequence would bring him over the edge now.

He was entering his cooldown period, the moment when he was at his weakest.

And yet, when he appeared from his most recent [Flash], it was in the midst of orcs holding crossbows.

The orcs discarded their long-range weapons and drew their close combat weapons: axes, swords, cleavers, all high quality weapons that looked enchanted and in some cases even awe-inspiring. These orcs — any one of them really — were richer than the whole group put together.

And they came to bully little Aren?

A shock of lightning ran through Aren’s body as the counter-current finally discharged from his body. Every time he used lightning abilities, he would receive a shock in return. This was generally handled by the shadowblade and the macros embedded into its sub buffer. But to keep the cost on his buffer low, the sequence had to be adjusted. The shock protection was one of the victims of such optimization.

When the death line appeared, it didn’t slowly crawl from Aren’s open hand, which he held palm open and towards the orcs, but it instantly appeared in full. It was a long, winding line that enveloped the group of ten orcs and sentenced them all to death. This group was fifteen strong initially, and the missing five were laying on the ground, their corpses blackened to charcoal, a short distance behind their still living companions. Those five were the victims of Aren’s counter barrage.

Aren walked forward, but he may as well have been a conqueror stomping on the heavens, for the manner in which he approached was so oppressive that he actually saw the orc he was approaching change his expression to one of pure fear.

What was it in Aren’s motion that drew such a reaction?

Aren’s blade cut through the fate of death with unerring precision, and the [Singing Crescent] neatly decapitated the orc.

[Injury inflicted. Severity: Fatal.]

Aren reached into his utility belt and with a snap-fast motion tossed a knife towards the next orc, one in the back who kept his crossbow and was reloading it, and the knife burst with lightning as it obliterated the orc’s torso.

[Injury inflicted. Severity: Fatal.]

The [Lightning Driver] put Aren’s buffer into recovery mode in which it would refuse further sequences until it was half-cleared.

Aren did not stop advancing. Even as the first orc’s head still sailed through the air, he had already reached another orc, and with uncanny movement, leaned backwards and to the side, to avoid the orc’s chopping sword, and then stabbed the orc in the throat, causing the wild creature to spin and stumble backwards. Aren then stabbed it again, right in the back of the head.

[Injury inflicted. Severity: Mortal wound.]

[Injury inflicted. Severity: Fatal.]

Aren stepped forward, the lifeless orc hanging from his red-hot shadowblade, and as his foot landed on the ground, another crossbow bolt blew off the orc’s arm and torso, narrowly missing Aren.

Aren withdrew his shadowblade, allowing the orc remains to fall to the ground with a thud that sounded like he dropped a wet towel, and then he lunged forwards, blade chopping into the arm of his next victim, passing through bone and flesh and striking the second victim next to the first one, embedding halfway into the second one’s neck.

[Injury inflicted. Severity: Debilitating mortal wound. Arm amputated.]

[Injury inflicted. Severity: Fatal.]

< Deploying arcane territory. Burst mode. >

A flicker of light shrouded Aren, as the arcane circle flashed into existence with brilliant light, bright enough to stun the light-sensitive orcs. There was not a single goblin among them, and of their lightning skills, beyond the enhanced long-range shooting, they didn’t have a chance to display even one bit.

Aren’s shadowblade smashed into the airborne sword that still had a severed hand attached to it, and the metal shattered into dozens of pieces. For the briefest moment, the impact of Aren’s shadowblade imparted no force on the fragments, and they hovered in mid-air as if they were in zero-G. Then they launched themselves onwards with catastrophic precision, showering three orcs in almost supersonic shrapnel that kicked up dust and red mist all around them.

[Injury inflicted. Severity: Fatal.]

[Injury inflicted. Severity: Fatal.]

[Injury inflicted. Severity: Fatal.]

The two remaining orcs, not counting the one that was still bleeding out, were wounded. It must have happened in the initial barrage when Aren launched the throwing knife through one of the holes. Smartly, they stayed behind the main pack of the melee, perhaps having such foolish dreams as living through this. No doubt, they imagined that such survival would bring about incredible boons, having seen Aren — their nemesis — fight in such a way. Aren wielded lightning in a way they could not even imagine.

But the person standing before them was not a person. To call it human would be only because it was related to humanity.

Aren watched the tears form in the eyes of the orcs, glimmering in the emerging moonlight, from beneath a thick sheet of ice that separated his mind from his body. His stomach turned into knots as every suspicion he had of Leviathan’s nature materialized into reality. The malice, the ominousness, the superiority; all of it, it was all true.

Leviathan was an AGMI developed for war. Perhaps to call it war would be an insult to every human in history who fought for a cause, an objective, a philosophy or creed. This was not war. This was simply destruction.

It was violence in its purest, highest form. Mindless, yet directed. Merciless, yet calculated. Monstrous, yet human. It was an expression of pure nature: For one to live, all others must die. It was brutal in its simplicity and beautiful in its application. There was no regret and no joy. No accomplishment and no satisfaction. It just was. With each act of destruction, Leviathan created the foundation on which a future may exist.

And the two remaining orcs knew this — they could see it in that human’s eyes — and they knew that they would also be sacrificed on that altar of destruction that brings about the promise of a new day.

Their muscles seized. Their thoughts were paralyzed. Aren’s buffer recovered just in time for the [Lightning Divider] to carve through both of them with one swing, and for the clouds above to discharge a bolt of lightning into Aren’s shadowblade and obliterate the weapon, the two orcs and launch Aren several meters backwards.