**
**Monarch's War Camp — Night**
The camp pulsed like a living beast under the starless sky. Rows of torches hissed and flickered in the cold wind, stretching long, warped shadows across mud-churned ground and tattered banners. Each banner bore the sigil of a fierce dragon coiled around a gnarled, ancient tree. Soldiers moved like ghosts—some dragging the bodies of the fallen, others returning from patrol with bloodied armor and exhausted eyes. Low murmurs and the distant clank of steel filled the air.
At the center stood the largest tent, black and imposing, guarded by silent figures in scaled mail.
In a smaller tent nearby, the air was thick with the metallic scent of blood.
*Drip… drip… drip…*
A severed head hung from the pink-haired girl's hand, blood sliding lazily from the stump onto the dirt floor. She sat cross-legged on a wooden crate, spinning the head slowly by its hair as if it were a toy. Her boots were caked in mud and gore. Her painted face wore a look of pure boredom.
The other Rejects stood around her in the dim lantern light.
"…Too easy," she sighed dramatically. "Forkbeard's knights are getting sloppier every week. Why do I always have to clean up their mess?"
One of the Rejects smirked. "You're the one who let the messenger bird go."
She tilted the head, studying the frozen scream etched on its face. "Honestly, I expected more resistance."
"You always say that," another muttered.
"Because it's always true." She flashed a sharp grin. "Fourth is out there having all the fun. I want mine too."
Her eyes narrowed, smile turning sour.
"That idiot."
"Fourth?" someone asked.
She clicked her tongue. "Yeah. Walking around like he's special. Like he's better than the rest of us." Her voice dropped. "He's reckless… and annoying."
The tent flap suddenly flew open.
The commander stepped inside, armor still dusty from the road.
Without hesitation, the pink-haired girl tossed the severed head toward him.
He caught it cleanly in one hand.
"…Report?" he asked, voice flat and cold.
Her expression instantly shifted to something light and careless.
"All clear. Just a few scouts."
---
**Eastern Ridge — Cliffside**
A fierce wind howled across the jagged cliffs, carrying the scent of pine and damp earth. Julius sat with his back against a large boulder, eyes half-closed, breathing slow and measured. His body still hummed faintly from earlier—like something ancient and restless inside him hadn't fully settled.
Nearby, Gnorm stood vigilant, blind eyes somehow sensing everything.
"I'll find food," the old knight said quietly.
Julius raised a hand slightly in acknowledgment but said nothing.
Gnorm vanished into the treeline.
Silence returned, broken only by the wind.
Then—a deep, ominous rumble shook the ground.
Julius' eyes snapped open.
Above him, the mountainside cracked violently. Huge chunks of rock broke free and began to slide.
**Avalanche**
The world came crashing down.
Boulders the size of horses thundered toward Julius like the wrath of the gods. He rose to his feet in an instant. The air around him thickened, bending to his will. The falling stones slowed dramatically, then lost all momentum as they neared him, dropping harmlessly to the ground like pebbles.
He didn't just dodge them.
He *took* them.
Every impact—every ounce of crushing force and kinetic energy—sank into his body like water into dry earth. He felt it collect deep inside, heavy and coiled, a growing reservoir of raw power that made his veins thrum and his skin prickle with heat. The more violence the mountain threw at him, the stronger the stored pressure became.
Behind him, their horse reared in panic, eyes wide with terror.
Julius stepped between the animal and the collapsing cliff.
"Stay," he commanded softly.
The rocks parted around him like water around stone.
Then—a devastating fist slammed into his ribs with bone-shaking force.

**BOOM.**
Julius was hurled across the ridge, tumbling through dirt and shattered stone. He skidded to a stop but didn't bleed. Didn't even bruise deeply. The blow's full destructive power had been absorbed instantly, added to the growing storm inside him.
He pushed himself up slowly.
Standing before him was a tall, lean man whose skin was etched with jagged, stone-like patterns. One arm hung twisted at an unnatural angle—then *crack*—it snapped back into place, flesh knitting together before Julius' eyes. The man smiled with feral delight.
"Ahhh… so it's true," he said, voice dripping with excitement.
Julius stood, brushing dust from his clothes.
"Who are you?"
The man's grin widened, revealing sharp teeth.
"Only my strongest enemies get to hear my name."
Julius frowned. "Huh?"
---
**Elsewhere on the Ridge — Gnorm**
The thunderous rumble reached Gnorm instantly. He froze mid-step, head snapping toward the eastern cliffs.
"…Julius."
Sword already drawn, the blind knight broke into a dead sprint, cloak whipping behind him.
---
**Back at the Cliffside**
The mysterious man—Fourth—rushed forward with wild, gleeful speed. His right arm morphed mid-stride, stretching and hardening into a jagged silver blade that gleamed under the moonlight.
He lunged.
**CLANG!**
Julius intercepted the strike with impossible speed, blocking the blade with his forearm. The impact sent sparks flying. Another surge of force poured into him—stored, compressed, added to the growing reservoir.
Gnorm arrived just in time to witness the clash. Before he could react, Fourth vanished in a blur—then reappeared directly in front of the blind knight, blade raised high.
"Die—"
Julius materialized between them in a heartbeat. The silver blade slammed into his shoulder and stopped dead, unable to pierce deeper. The energy of the blow flooded into Julius' core.
Fourth leapt back, laughing wildly.
"What is this? You're pretty fast!"
Julius said nothing, eyes calm and focused. Inside, the stored power was beginning to burn—pressure building like a dam ready to burst.
"Boring." Fourth's body began to crack and split. Stone-like copies broke off from his form—duplicates that rushed forward with the same feral energy.
Gnorm moved like lightning, his sword flashing in precise arcs. Steel met living stone. Shards exploded outward with every strike.
**Flashback — Quitfort**
Julius sat at the tavern table, surrounded by laughter and the scent of ale. For a brief moment, he glanced toward the shadows. Someone was watching—still, smiling faintly in the darkness.
---
**Present**
"I've been following you," Fourth said, voice laced with delight. His real body surged forward again, unleashing a barrage of blows—fists, morphing blades, and razor-sharp stone fragments.
Each strike carried devastating force… yet lost power at the very last instant before impact. Julius absorbed every single one. The reservoir inside him swelled, hotter and heavier, until his muscles trembled and faint golden veins of light began to trace beneath his skin.
Still, one cut slipped through. A thin line of blood appeared on Julius' arm.
Fourth noticed immediately. His grin turned savage.
"…You get tired too."
He slammed his fist into the ground—once, twice.
**Landslide**
The earth groaned and gave way beneath them. Trees uprooted. Massive slabs of rock and soil cascaded downward in a roaring wave of destruction.
Gnorm grabbed a nearby tree for anchorage—it tore free from the ground. He tumbled with the landslide.
Julius followed, falling through chaos.
Above them, Fourth laughed maniacally, launching deadly stone spikes downward like rain.
One spike pierced Julius' shoulder. He winced, breathing growing heavier. The stored power inside him was reaching its limit—pushing against his ribs, begging to be released.
---
**Silence**
Mid-fall, Julius closed his eyes and drew a slow, deep breath.
Every hit he had taken.
Every impact.
Every ounce of force and violence—
He had stored it all. Not just the physical energy, but the raw intent behind each blow—the hatred, the glee, the destructive will. It all coiled inside him now, compressed into a single, volatile core of power that no ordinary mortal could contain.
Now he released it.
**BLAST**
A violent eruption of raw power exploded outward from Julius' body. The air shattered like glass. The landslide froze for a heartbeat—then reversed violently, rocks and trees hurtling upward in a reverse cascade of destruction.
Fourth's eyes widened in pure exhilaration.
"Excellent… So strong. You really are my perfect match."
He smiled wide, even as the blast consumed him.
"They call me Fourth."
**BOOM.**
The explosion tore through the ridge in a golden-white shockwave, carving a crater into the mountainside.
---
**Aftermath**
Silence fell over the shattered landscape—mud, broken trees, and settling dust.
Julius' body went limp, drained from the release. The stored power was gone, leaving only exhaustion and a faint tremor in his limbs. Gnorm caught him mid-fall, gripping a half-buried tree trunk to keep them both anchored.
"…Idiot," the blind man muttered, voice rough with concern.
---
**Elsewhere — Unknown Location**
A black portal tore open in the darkness.
A calm, unbothered woman stepped through. She walked silently to the broken remains of Fourth and lifted his head by the hair. Even in death, he was still smiling faintly.
"…That was fun," he whispered weakly.
She said nothing.
---
**The Lair**
Deep in shadow, the air was heavy and oppressive. The woman approached a figure seated in total darkness and dropped Fourth's head at his feet.
The wounded Reject chuckled softly from the floor.
"I liked that one."
Silence stretched, thick and dangerous.
Then a low, controlled voice spoke from the shadows:
"…Take him away."
The woman obeyed without question.
The chamber fell quiet once more.
Then the air shifted—growing ice-cold with barely restrained, violent rage.
End of Chapter 29