The biting wind of the heights of Tenebris howled between the jagged peaks, lifting a fine layer of dust that infiltrated the smallest gaps in the armor. At the head of the Pendragon faction’s column, Kris galloped on his reddish steed. His hair, once a flaming red, was now pure white, a sign of his transformation into the "Draconic Lion" that he had undergone under the shock of the loss of his sister Isabella.
His amber gaze, hardened by hatred and mourning, fixed on the horizon where a dark cloud began to mask the purple sky. Hundreds more harpies, attracted by the sll of the blood of their dead kin, dove toward them with shrill cries capable of shattering the eardrum of an ordinary human.
"Lord Kris! They are too nurous!" shouted a student a few ters behind him, his voice barely audible under the din of the mbranous wings.
Kris did not answer. He did not even bother to slow down. With a brutal impulse of his legs, he propelled himself out of his saddle. His body described a perfect parabola in the air before falling with the force of a teor in the center of a rocky plateau where the first harpies were preparing to land.
The impact was devastating. The basalt ground fractured under his boots, creating a crater several ters wide. Without losing a second, Kris concentrated his arcane aura, a red and heavy energy that seed to devour the surrounding light.
< Center of Gravity! >
The world seed to contract around him. In an instant, the space within a twenty-ter radius was subjected to an irresistible attraction. The harpies flying at low altitude were brutally torn from their trajectory, sucked toward the center of the crater like flies in an invisible web. The creatures’ cries of terror transford into death rattles as their bones began to crack under the pressure.
The dragon tattoo that ran along his neck and arm ignited with a scarlet glow, pulsing to the rhythm of his enraged heart. With a fluid gesture, he drew the Pendragon Espadon.
Each blow of his espadon severed the flesh with atrocious ease. The harpies’ heads flew in all directions, their entrails spilling onto the frozen ground in a cloud of fetid vapor. The monsters’ black blood spurted onto his armor, but he did not flinch, his eyes shining with a wild gleam.
The students of the Pendragon faction, who had remained in the background, observed the scene with fascination mixed with terror. They had known the kind and virtuous Kris Donoghan, but the man fighting before them was an anomaly, a force of nature that nothing seed able to stop.
"He... he no longer looks human," murmured a young mage, clutching her staff against her. "Look at how he manipulates gravity... it’s as if he is playing with reality."
"This level... Godwin had never reached it..."
Suddenly, a deeper, more guttural roar made the mountain walls tremble. A colossal silhouette erged from the clouds of sulfur. It was an adult Wyvern, an S-rank creature whose dark green scales shone with a tallic gleam. Its four wings unfurled, creating a gust that knocked over several students.
The Wyvern opened its gaping maw, revealing rows of sharp fangs, and spat a jet of pure fire that instantly lted the rock.
’You think your flas scare ?’ thought Kris with contempt.
< Combat Sense >
His reflexes were multiplied. He perceived every particle of mana in the fiery breath, every micro-movent of the beast’s wing. Just as the blaze was about to engulf him, Kris used a gravity impulse to project himself vertically into the sky.
He rose so high that he appeared only as a black dot before the pale moon of Tenebris. Then, he began his descent.
< Multiple Gravity! >
The air around him seed to divide into several layers of pressure. The Wyvern, surprised by Kris’s speed, tried to rise to intercept him, but it was suddenly struck by an invisible force that pinned it to the ground, breaking several of its ribs.
< Dominant Fire! >
Kris’s espadon enveloped itself in a white and red fla, so intense that it seed to consu the air itself. He fell onto the Wyvern’s back with the power of divine punishnt. Without hesitation, he seized one of the beast’s four wings with his bare hands. His muscles tensed under his armor, his veins bulging on his forehead.
In an excess of pure rage, he tore the wing from the root. The sound of tearing flesh and breaking bones echoed throughout the pass. The Wyvern let out a shrill cry of agony as a spray of black blood flooded Kris.
He was of incredible violence. He was not seeking victory, he was seeking the total destruction of everything that stood in his way. He struck the beast’s skull with the poml of his sword, driving in the frontal bone before slitting its throat with a backhand.
Kris straightened up on the smoking corpse of the Wyvern, his espadon pointed toward the ground, blood dripping from the blade. He was covered in blood, his white hair stained black, his breathing the only sound in the deathly silence that followed the fight.
A student, a few ters away, could not help but step back, his face pale as a sheet.
"Lord Kris is... too nurous..." he murmured, unable to find another word to describe this presence that seed to occupy all the space, this power that gave the impression that he was everywhere at once, crushing the enemy under the weight of his will alone.
Kris slowly turned his head toward his troops. His amber eyes no longer had any of the warmth of the past.
"Why have you stopped?" asked Kris, his voice a glacial hiss that made even the bravest shiver. "The Spectrum Bastion is not going to collapse on its own. March."
He remounted his steed without a glance at the carnage he left behind.
"Damn! They have a shit sll!" he murmured into his beard...
***
anwhile, Klein observed the power readings on his system interface.
[Kris Pendragon’s synchronization level is increasing. His hatred fuels the Lion Constellation.]
A mocking smile stretched Klein’s lips as he smoothed his silver hair back.
’Continue, Kris,’ thought Klein. ’Beco as strong as you wish. The more powerful you beco, the more I can use you to eliminate these demon scum.’
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