Extra Borne: Transmigrated Into A System Apocalypse Soulsborne Novel-Chapter 68 - 66: Race Against Time (3)

The perfect strike wasn’t luck.

Not at all.

I watched. Every movement, every strike, every breath... it was all data, and I absorbed it like a dying man clutching at the last embers of fire. Their movements weren’t chaos; they were patterns, layers woven into the tapestry of their strength.

The one I stabbed, the one still leaking pitch black void liquid onto the blood-soaked battlefield, had revealed himself to me long before my blade pierced his armor.

He was the front attacker, relentless, destructive, powerful.

And reckless.

He relied on brute strength and speed, hurling himself at me like a battering ram. But there was a flaw, one even he likely didn’t know about. A moment of vulnerability, a chink in his impenetrable assault: three seconds. That was how long his attacks left him exposed before he could recover.

Three seconds was all I needed.

I had marked him early, watching for that window. That was why I’d disengaged, why I’d let my breathing become ragged, why I’d let the others believe they had me cornered. It was all a trap.

And he fell for it.

Boom!

The thunder rumbled above, loud and ominous, as if the heavens themselves groaned under the weight of the fight.

I stood a short distance from the five Hands of Altronotch, my mist sword hanging loose at my side, its edge faintly glowing with traces of void energy. The pitch black liquid still dripped from the blade, a known testament to my strike.

The Hand I stabbed stood rigid, his massive form exuding raw, oppressive pitch dark energy. The air around him thickened, suffocating, a silent scream of rage and defiance.

Du! Du! Du!

The ground beneath him trembled, cracks webbing out in all directions as his pitch-black energy erupted, the pressure alone enough to make the mud boil.

"Do you think..." he began, his voice like grinding stone, calm yet thunderous, "a mere stab wound will do me harm?"

The vibration grew more violent. The air burned.

He rose slowly, his massive frame towering over me like a god of war. Space itself warped around him, the fabric of reality bending under the sheer weight of his existence.

With a flick of his wrist, void energy coiled around his hand, solidifying into a sword that seemed to devour the light around it. A weapon born of annihilation.

"I’ll finish this... once and for all," he declared, his tone unwavering, final.

And then he moved.

No sound. No warning. Just silence, deafening and absolute.

But my detection screamed.

He was on me in an instant, his void sword inches from cleaving me in two. The raw speed was beyond comprehension, beyond anything I could match. But before his blade could touch me, he froze.

For a moment, time itself seemed to had stopped.

He fell to his knees, the earth shattering beneath his weight. A violent cough racked his body, and from beneath his helmet, black void liquid poured out, cascading like a vile waterfall.

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The other Hands stiffened, their void energy flaring as they prepared to strike.

I raised both hands, my voice calm but sharp. "Any one of you who moves will be the cause of his death."

They hesitated. For a fraction of a second, they hesitated.

The kneeling Hand raised his armored hand, stopping them with a single, silent gesture.

He coughed again, the liquid pooling at his feet. His strength waned, his pitch black void energy faltering like a dying flame.

I stepped closer, the mud squelching beneath my foot. Slowly, intentionally, I squatted to meet him face to face, my mist swirling faintly around me.

"Never leave a snake unnoticed," I said, my voice low, intimate, laced with quiet satisfaction. "You may not know when it’ll strike."

His visor tilted toward me, and though I couldn’t see his face, I felt his calm gaze... a burning void that promised vengeance even as his strength ebbed.

I rose to my feet, letting the moment linger, letting the tension coil tighter around the battlefield.

The other Hands loomed like statues, their silence a storm waiting to break. I could feel their hatred, their wrath, their need to retaliate. But they didn’t move. Not yet.

Because I had already made my point.

But even after I warned them.

Even after I made my point.

Clang!

The sound shattered the air as a void blade came screaming toward me. The wounded Hand of Altronotch surged forward, his movements unnervingly swift despite his injuries.

I twisted, raising my mist sword just in time to deflect the blow. The impact rattled up my arm, sharp and bone-deep.

"You were the first to move, huh," I muttered, a faint smirk tugging at my lips.

The Hand didn’t respond immediately, but his presence was a storm. The void energy around him pulsed in rhythm with his breaths, burning hotter, denser. Finally, he spoke, his voice low and grinding, like tectonic plates shifting beneath the earth.

"Though the Roamer’s poison has burrowed through my defenses... I will fight until my last breath."

The words were calm, unshaken. A vow wrapped in inevitability.

He twisted mid-sentence, his massive leg sweeping out in a blur. I shifted my weight, raising my sword just in time to block the kick, but the force sent me skidding back across the blood soaked muddied ground.

Before I could recover, the remaining four Hands of Altronotch surged forward in a wave of void and darkness, surrounding me in an instant. Their movements were seamless, unified, as if their minds were threads in the same cruel tapestry.

My grip on the mist sword tightened. Round two, then, I thought, steadying myself.

The fight resumed with a ferocity that even the storm above seemed to pale against.

Their attacks came from every direction... slashes from void swords that tore through the air with deafening howls, bursts of annihilating energy that scorched the ground to ash. I countered with speed, the mist energy around me flaring in response to every strike.

I parried, dodged, dissolved into mist when the blows came too close.

The battle was a dance, each step a moment of survival.

But I was no longer just surviving.

I had already adapted.

Then it happened.

The Hand I’d stabbed earlier charged forward, void energy wreathing his fist. His blow connected with my mist sword in an explosion of raw pitch black power. The impact numbed my arm, sent shocks through my body, and left me stunned for a heartbeat too long.

It was enough.

He materialized his void sword, its black edge humming with a hunger that felt alive. With a roar that shook the battlefield, he brought the blade down, aiming to cleave me from existence.

But his blade never struck.

A ripple of deep blue glowing eyes passed through the mist, subtle and insidious, like a whisper in the dark.

The Hand froze mid-swing, his body rigid. His void energy flickered, spasmed. And then, slowly, he began to burn.

Not in flames, but in erasure.

The black of his armor, the void of his form, it all dissolved into nothingness, consumed by an unseen force.

I stepped back, letting my mist swirl faintly around me.

"Well, that’s one out of the way," I said, my tone calm, almost conversational.

The remaining four Hands of Altronotch stood motionless, their glowing void eyes fixed on the spot where their comrade had once stood.

They hadn’t expected that. None of them had.

I raised my mist sword, pointing it at them. "Four left," I said, my voice steady, cold.

The storm above seemed to hold its breath.

And then the air thickened.

A crushing, suffocating weight pressed down on me as the four remaining Hands unleashed their pitch black void energy. The darkness that emanated from them wasn’t just an aura... it was a force, a presence that warped the space around.

Swoosh!

They moved.

Faster than thought, faster than sound. My hypersensitivity screamed at me, every nerve on fire.

I dissolved into mist a fraction of a second before their blades would have impaled me, their strikes passing harmlessly through my intangible form.

The mist around the battlefield thickened, swirling into an opaque shroud that cloaked everything. The Hands slowed, their void swords raised, their movements cautious now.

They waited.

Their void energy pulsed, their presence unwavering. They thought they understood the mist, thought they could wait me out.

But they were wrong about one thing.

Boom!

The sound was deafening, a roar of untamed flames erupting from within the mist.

Crack! Boom!

Lightning followed, jagged bolts splitting the air, their searing light cutting through the darkness.

Swoosh!

A wild, chaotic wind tore through the battlefield, scattering debris and sending tremors through the ground.

And then, the final blow.

A chilling, deathly cold swept through the air, silencing everything. It wasn’t just cold... it was doom, the kind of freezing that seeped into the soul and extinguished hope.

My team had arrived.

The mist parted slightly as the flames, lightning, wind, and frost took form beside me.

They didn’t need words. Their presence alone spoke volumes.

I raised my sword, the mist swirling around the blade.

"Let’s finish this quickly... shall we?" I said, my voice low, inviting.

Because this time it wouldn’t just be a battle.

It would be a reckoning....