The air on the high ridgeline was bitter and tasted like burning sulfur.
Down in the valley, the thunderous clash of steel against claws echoed off the granite cliffs, but up here, the wind whistled through the jagged rocks like a dying sigh.
Eos-3 stood beside the largest of the three Catalysts of Abaddon—a giant, jagged obelisk of black crystal that hummed with sickening violet light. The demon shapeshifter adjusted his dark cloak, his dark runes flaring with concentrated mana as he watched the short boy scramble up the sheer cliff face with unbelievable speed.
Anwan crested the final ledge, landing in a low crouch without making a sound.
His leather armor was splashed with dark beast blood, and his iron broadsword hung loosely in his right hand. He didn't look breathless or exhausted. He looked like he had just walked up a flight of stairs to buy groceries.
"Impudent human pest," Eos-3 hissed, his voice dropping into a guttural double-layered tone as his human visage melted away, revealing pale gray skin, elongated claws, and two curving horns. "You think cutting down mindless beasts makes you a hero? You are a child playing with a kitchen knife."
Anwan didn't answer. He looked past Eos-3, his dark eyes locking onto the black crystal obelisk behind him.
Through his absolute vision, the world dissolved into clean geometric lines and energy currents. He saw how the Catalyst tapped deep into the mountain’s earth-mana, twisting it into dark demonic energy and pumping it into the valley below.
He also saw the precise structural flaw in the crystal’s core: a tiny, microscopic fracture right where the base met the pedestal, vibrating at a frequency of 140 Hertz.
"That stone is very noisy," Anwan said flatly, pointing his blade at the Catalyst. "It's hurting my ears."
Eos-3’s yellow eyes twitched in rage.
"Arrogant brat! I am Eos-3, Master of the Void Step! You will not touch Lord Araw’s work!"
The demon slammed his wooden staff onto the frozen stone.
WHOOSH!
In an instant, Eos-3 vanished into thin air.
To a normal knight, the demon had simply ceased to exist, moving through spatial shadows to deliver an invisible, decapitating strike from behind.
To Anwan, however, Eos-3 hadn't vanished at all.
He saw the subtle displacement of cold air molecules shifting two feet to his left. He saw the shift in snow-dust beneath an invisible boot. He saw the exact trajectory of the shadow blade descending toward his collarbone.
Anwan didn't even turn his head. He simply tilted his upper body three inches to the right.
SWISH!
The dark shadow blade sliced through empty air, cutting a clean strand from Anwan’s dark hair.
Eos-3’s form reappeared, his yellow eyes wide with shock. "What—How?!"
Before the demon could recover his balance, Anwan shifted his center of gravity forward. He drove his elbow straight back into Eos-3’s exposed ribs.
CRACK!
The impact sounded like a dry branch snapping. Eos-3 gasped in pain, staggering back three steps as two of his rib bones fractured under the sheer kinetic force of Anwan's tight, compact striking form.
"Impossible..." Eos-3 wheezed, clutching his side as black demon blood leaked through his fingers. "My Void Step hides all light and sound! How can a mere boy react to an invisible strike?!"
"You breathe very loudly before you swing," Anwan explained helpfully. "And your left shoulder rises two inches when you try to hit from behind. Master says warriors who rely on tricks always forget about their shoulders."
Eos-3 snarled, his face twisting into a hideous mask of fury.
"Die, worm!"
The demon threw his staff into the air, unleashing his full mana capacity. A dozens-strong volley of razor-sharp purple mana-darts materialised around him, forming a swirling storm of lethal energy aimed directly at Anwan.
"Dodge this if you can!" Eos-3 shrieked, driving his hands forward.
The purple storm surged across the ridge.
Anwan didn't try to dodge. Dodging took too many steps, and he had promised Princess Feodia he wouldn't waste time.
He took a deep breath, lowered his stance, and held his iron broadsword with both hands in a classic vertical guard.
Breathe in. Align the spine. Release.
Anwan swung his blade—not with magical mana, but with pure, unadulterated physical compression and perfect anatomical alignment.
BOOM!
A shockwave of compressed atmospheric pressure exploded from his blade, creating a powerful wall of pure force that collided with the demonic projectiles mid-air.
The purple mana-darts shattered like fragile glass against the wall of wind, dissolving harmlessly into the freezing air.
Eos-3 stood frozen, his jaw slack, his yellow eyes filled with unadulterated terror.
"No mana..." Eos-3 whispered, his voice trembling. "You have no magic... It's pure physical force... What kind of monster are you?!"
Anwan didn't answer. He blurred forward.
Eos-3 raised his claws in a desperate, panicked block, but Anwan’s blade was already moving through the optimal arc.
FLASH!
The heavy iron broadsword carved a clean horizontal path through the air. Eos-3’s claws were sheared off like thin twigs, and the flat of Anwan’s blade struck the demon square in the chest with the force of a battering ram.
THWACK!
Eos-3 flew backward thirty feet, smashing hard into the base of the central Catalyst. The demon fell to his knees, coughing up dark blood, completely incapacitated.
Anwan walked calmly over to the giant black crystal obelisk.
"No... wait..." Eos-3 rasped, reaching out a trembling, clawless hand. "If you destroy the Catalyst... the feedback... it will blow up the entire cliff! You'll die with me!"
Anwan ignored him. He raised his broadsword, angling the tip precisely toward the microscopic fracture at the base of the crystal.
"Master taught me that everything has a point where it wants to break," Anwan said softly. "You just have to tap it nicely."
Anwan thrust his blade forward—not with violent strength, but with a light, precise tap right onto the vibrating node.
Tink.
For a second, nothing happened.
Then, a microscopic hairline crack appeared where the iron tip met the crystal.
Crack... CRACK!
The hairline fracture exploded outward in a web of blinding white light. The black crystal didn't detonate in a firestorm as Eos-3 had claimed; instead, the twisted mana inside lost its harmony, collapsing in on itself like a popping soap bubble.
GLASS-SHATTERING SOUND!
The massive Catalyst shattered into millions of harmless, non-magical black sand particles that rained down over the snow.
Across the ridge, the other two smaller Catalysts, deprived of their central anchor, shuddered violently and dissolved into gray dust.
Down in the valley below, the crimson glow in the eyes of the monster horde instantly vanished.
The ten thousand beasts—suddenly freed from the demon hive-mind—looked around in utter confusion. The territorial instincts of the Ogres and wolves immediately reasserted themselves, causing the horde to collapse into chaotic infighting before turning and fleeing back into the deep mountain wilderness.
High on the ridge, Eos-3 stared at the pile of black sand in absolute disbelief as his body began to crumble away from demonic energy depletion.
"Lord Araw..." Eos-3 choked out, his vision fading to black. "The boy... is not human..."
With those final words, the demon dissolved into ash, scattered away by the mountain wind.
Anwan wiped his broadsword on a patch of clean snow and sheathed it across his back. He reached into his coat, pulled out a small piece of dried fruit, and began chewing contentedly as he looked down at the peaceful valley.
Behind him, the heavy boots of Sir Rodas crunched into the snow as the old master reached the top of the ridge.
Rodas looked at the pile of black ash, then at the scattered crystal dust, and finally at his short apprentice.
"Did you leave any for me, boy?" Rodas asked, chuckling gruffly as he leaned on his wooden staff.
"You said your knees hurt on steep hills, Master," Anwan replied innocently. "So I finished quickly."
Rodas let out a loud, booming laugh that echoed across the quiet mountains. He reached out and ruffled Anwan’s dark hair roughly.
"Good job, kid. Come on. General Garin said he's roasting a whole boar for the victory feast down at the fortress."
Anwan’s eyes sparkled instantly.
"A whole boar?"
"Aye. With extra crackling."
"Let's walk faster, Master," Anwan said, already taking three long strides down the mountain path.
Far to the south, inside the dark, candle-lit study of Lord Araw Candias...
A glass sphere sitting on a mahogany desk suddenly cracked down the middle, its inner purple light snuffing out completely.
Araw sat in his high-backed leather chair, his slender fingers resting against his chin. He stared at the broken sphere for a long moment, his handsome, noble face entirely unreadable.
Standing in the shadows behind him was Minister Vane—Eos-4.
"Lord Araw..." Vane spoke nervously, bowing his head low. "Eos-3 has failed. The Northern Catalyst network is destroyed, and the Fontaniska garrison has secured the border."
Araw didn't rage. He didn't slam his desk or shout. He simply let out a low, smooth sigh and reached for a quill to sign a official document on his desk.
"Eos-3 was always too reliant on grand displays of power," Araw said quietly. "He underestimated the variable."
"The variable, my Lord?" Vane asked.
"Anwan Rodas," Araw murmured, a faint, dark smile curving his lips. "A boy with no magic, yet capable of unraveling a high-tier mana node with a single strike. He is not a knight, nor a wizard. He is a blade forged without iron."
Araw leaned back in his chair, looking out the grand arched window toward the distant palace towers of Fontaniska.
"It matters little. The northern distraction served its true purpose. While the King's eyes were fixed on the wall, our agents successfully secured the three Royal Keys from the treasury."
Minister Vane’s eyes lit up with malicious delight. "Then... the sealed vault beneath the capital?"
"We open it tomorrow night," Araw declared softly, his voice dripping with terrifying calm. "Let the boy have his victory roast in the north. When he returns to the capital... he will find a kingdom already wearing my crown."
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