I tore across the sky like a comet, trailing blue light in my wake. The energy coiled around my fist felt almost serene—a deep, humming calm that belied the violence it was about to unleash. My wound screamed with every movement, a white-hot line of pain carved into my side that I had no choice but to ignore. This was it. Everything I had left, every last reserve of strength I could wring from my body, was flowing into this single attack. It had to be enough.
The terror beast filled my vision as we closed the distance between us. It spun like a cyclone given teeth and malice, a roaring column of destruction that had been built for one purpose: to kill. The wind it generated hit me like a wall, battering my face and arms, trying to slow me down, trying to push me back. I lowered my head and flew harder.
"THIS IS WHERE IT ENDS—TAKE THIS AND STAY DOWN!"
My fist connected.
The collision was not loud so much as it was total. A shockwave detonated outward from the point of impact, a ring of displaced air that flattened everything in its radius. The ground below cracked in a spiderweb pattern that spread for hundreds of feet in every direction. My ears went deaf for a moment—just a high, clean ringing—and then the sound rushed back in: a roar like the world splitting open, followed by a cascade of smaller tremors rolling outward through the earth like the aftermath of a stone dropped into still water.
The terror beast screeched.
It was a sound that didn't belong in any living throat—a frequency that seemed to bypass the ears entirely and vibrate somewhere deep in the chest, somewhere close to fear. But I knew what was causing it. My technique doesn't touch the physical body. It goes deeper than muscle and bone. It reaches into the soul and squeezes, and whatever this thing was, whatever dark and ancient thing lived at its center, it could feel me in there. It didn't like it.
And yet it kept fighting.
The spinning intensified. I could feel the force of it trying to tear my arm away, trying to peel me off and send me tumbling into the sky. I planted myself against it with everything I had, gritting my teeth until my jaw ached, pouring more energy down my arm and into my fist.
I won't give up. Not here. Not after everything.
Hadal had sacrificed too much to get us to this moment. Every decision, every gamble, every brutal mile of the road that had led us here—it had all been in service of this single point in time. To quit now would be to erase all of it. I refused. I refused with every part of me that still had the capacity to refuse anything.
I pushed harder.
The blue light around my fist deepened, shifting toward something almost violet at its core, and the terror beast was forced back an inch. Then another. Its screeching grew more frantic, more desperate, and for one breathless second I thought it was over—
Then it matched me.
The spinning redoubled with a violence that sent a shockwave of its own rippling back against me. We hung there in the air, locked together, two forces pressing against each other with everything they had. A battle of pure output, pure will. I could feel the equilibrium of it in my bones—the razor's edge we were both balanced on. One miscalculation, one fractional drop in my energy output, and it would be over. Not just a loss. An end.
"COME ON, JOSEPH—YOU CAN DO THIS!" Hadal's voice cut through the roar from somewhere below.
I heard him. I appreciated him. But encouragement is a warm coat in a blizzard—it helps, but it isn't enough on its own.
Because I could feel it now. The bottom of the well.
My output was faltering. Not dramatically, not all at once—just a slow, grinding erosion, like a cliff face losing sand to the tide. I couldn't sustain this. Not at this level. Not for much longer.
I needed to think. I needed to improvise.
I needed to end this now.
I was drowning in panic, my mind a tangled mess with no clear escape. Is this really the end? The thought slammed into me like a hammer. The terror beast behind me didn't show an inch of mercy; it loomed, inching closer with every heartbeat. I hadn't felt this raw, bone-deep fear since those nightmares with the bullies in the Greenlands. God, I wanted to believe there was a way out—but my head was too scrambled to see it.
"COME ON, JOSEPH! YOU GOT THIS! CRUSH IT ALREADY!" Hadal's voice cut through my terror like an electric jolt. If only he knew how hollow his pep talk sounded to me. I was the one who dragged him into this, convinced we had a shot. Now I could barely steady my vision, and he wanted me to crush it?
Crush it… Crush it? That's it—THAT'S IT, HADAL, YOU ABSOLUTE GENIUS! His foolish encouragement cracked open a plan in my mind—a final gamble that might just snatch us victory from the jaws of defeat.
I forced myself to inhale deeply and replayed the agony of that first technique. It seared through my chest like molten steel, but it was bearable if I mustered every ounce of will. Summoning every shred of strength, I launched into the cloud-chasing step, teleporting in a blur to the beast's flank.
The creature, driven by primal cunning, spun back toward me at blinding speed—exactly as I'd baited it. Its massive bulk overshot its mark, crashing headlong into the cavernous pit I'd carved out during my duel with Tajudeen.
I pivoted on shaken legs and forced the last of my flow energy into a desperate, improvised strike: Soul Smasher Flow Art, Second Move—Soul Bomb. I didn't release it smoothly; I compressed it, transforming the impact into a ticking bomb.
"TAKE THIS—SOUL BOMB!" I roared, flinging a pulsating blue orb into the darkness. It slammed against stone, detonating with earth-shaking force. Rock and dust rained down, sealing the terror beast in a shattered crater.
"WE… DID IT!" My voice cracked with triumph and exhaustion. Every muscle burned as I poured the last fragments of my strength into a flow-coated cushion around my body, cushioning my collapse. I hit the ground hard, a pain like shattered bones exploding through my ribs.
"ARE YOU OKAY, BRO? THAT… WAS INSANE!" Hadal's anxious shout broke through the ringing in my ears. He hauled me up, slinging my arm over his shoulder as we staggered away from the wreckage.
"Rose should be here any second," he panted. Right—Rose. I'd nearly forgotten she was supposed to rescue us too. Now she'd be stuck sweeping up the aftermath.
But first, we had business with Tajudeen. He lay crumpled near the edge of the pit, conscious but trembling like a puppet with cut strings. With heavy steps, we closed in, our intentions anything but kind.
"GUYS—PLEASE, I'M SORRY! JUST—DON'T HURT ME!" Tajudeen whimpered, scrambling backward. Tears streamed down his face, his legs buckling like wet noodles.
Hadal laughed, a cruel, booming sound. "Look at you, the great Tajudeen Sankoré—a blubbering mess now that you've finally faced defeat."
I loomed over him, voice cold steel. "Tajudeen, you lost. Now give up the professor and lift that aetherglyph spell from the students—right now."
His trembling hand fished out the professor, tangled in some subspace contraption. Then, with a nervous snap of his fingers, I knew the aetherglyph was free.
"Can we leave now?" he stammered, desperate.
"No," I said flatly. "We don't trust you. We're taking you back to the school to verify the spell's gone—for Rose Mensah to see for herself."
His face drained of color, fear blooming in his eyes. "FUCK YOU! OVER MY DEAD BODY—"
Before he could finish, he whipped out a scrap of paper scrawled with an aetherglyph. With a frantic rip, he tore it in half. A blinding white flash seared my vision, and when it faded, Tajudeen was gone—vanished, leaving only the torn paper fluttering in the dust.