As the monster's claw came crashing down toward Arsa, time seemed to slow. But just before impact, the beast abruptly froze. Its snarling face twisted, and it took a step back, as if suddenly aware of something.
Arsa stared in disbelief. The creature's bloodshot eyes locked onto him, and he could feel a strange energy pulsing from within—an aura both holy and unholy, mingled together in a way that made his skin prickle.
Suddenly, a strange sensation took hold of Arsa's hands. He looked down and saw a glowing card materializing, hovering just above his palm. The card was black with a silver cross embossed on it, and in the center gleamed a red crystal, pulsing faintly.
A sudden vision flashed before his eyes—an instruction, clear and urgent. He understood instinctively: he had to throw the card, and upon doing so, he would teleport to wherever the card landed. The vision showed him that he could carry up to 300 of these cards at a time. But once he used them all, a cooldown of 30 minutes would kick in before he could summon more.
Arsa's heart pounded. This could change everything.
The monster growled lowly, shaking off its momentary hesitation, ready to strike again. Arsa barely had time to react. He gripped the card tightly, aimed, and hurled it into the air.
In an instant, a bright flash surrounded him, and the world twisted as he vanished from the spot. Moments later, he rematerialized in midair right above the card's landing place—a small ledge near a shattered window overlooking the estate's gardens.
Landing gracefully, Arsa barely had time to catch his breath before the monster appeared behind him, stepping through a ripple in the air like it was following him through the card's teleportation.
Arsa spun around, ready to face it again. But then, to his absolute shock, the beast spoke.
"Well, well…" the voice was rough, dark, and dripping with amusement. "You are the first human to ever entertain me."
Arsa blinked. "You can talk?"
The creature laughed, a chilling sound that echoed off the stone walls. "Of course. I've been around longer than your kind can imagine. And you… you're different. Clever. Dangerous."
Arsa's grip tightened around his sword hilt. "What do you want?"
The monster's eyes gleamed with sadistic delight. "Toying with you has been… fun. But now, the real game begins."
Arsa narrowed his eyes. "I'm not here to play games. Let's finish this."
The monster bared its fangs and lunged forward once again, and the battle resumed—faster, more vicious, with a deadly dance of steel, wind, and shadow.
As they fought, the creature taunted him with cruel jabs and twisted laughter, while Arsa focused on keeping one step ahead, already planning how to use those cards before time ran out.
The fight raged on with a ferocity neither Arsa nor the creature had shown before. Every time Arsa managed to gain an advantage, the beast vanished into thin air, only to reappear moments later, ready to strike again. It was like chasing shadows — deadly, relentless shadows.
At one brutal moment, the monster lunged and with a savage roar, grabbed Arsa by the collar, threw him hard against the stone wall. Pain exploded in Arsa's ribs, and the breath left his lungs, but he refused to stay down. Gritting his teeth, he rolled away just in time to see the beast moving to finish him off.
Quickly, Arsa summoned one of his cards and vanished. When he reappeared, he was near the shattered window where he'd lost his sword earlier. The gleam of steel caught his eye — there it was, lying amidst broken glass. With no time to hesitate, he grabbed the sword, feeling its reassuring weight in his hand.
The monster was already charging again, eyes glowing with cruel anticipation.
Arsa dashed forward, wind whipping around him, using his magic to speed his steps and confuse the beast. He vanished and reappeared like a ghost, cutting through the air with sharp strikes. The monster roared in pain as Arsa's blade sliced across its back.
But the moment the sword bit into flesh, the wound began to close, skin knitting together with unnatural speed. The beast's regenerative power was terrifying.
Refusing to falter, Arsa leapt high, using the wind to propel himself over the creature. He landed behind it, slashing deep into its back again. The beast howled, spinning around, claws raised for a deadly blow.
Breathing hard, both combatants pushed themselves beyond their limits. Arsa's mind raced—he knew this was the climax of their battle. One slip could mean the end.
The creature's sadistic grin spread wide. "You have spirit, human. But can you end this?"
Arsa steadied his breath, eyes narrowing with fierce determination. "I'll make sure of it."
The air thickened with tension as they closed in for the final exchange — each move faster, more desperate, as the deadly dance reached its boiling point.
The mansion shook with the force of the brutal clash inside. Wood splintered, paintings were torn from walls, and old chandeliers swayed and fell, crashing into marble floors as the fight escalated to a level far beyond anything Arsa had experienced.
Blood dripped from his lip. His coat was ripped and singed. He ducked beneath the monster's sweeping claws, barely avoiding the crushing blow as it tore through a nearby pillar like paper. Arsa's muscles ached, his magic reserves were thinning, and even his teleportation cards were down to the last few.
The creature snarled, its voice deep, guttural, and sharp like broken glass. "Still standing, Yrlton? You bleed like a human. But you fight like something else…"
Arsa wiped blood from his mouth, tightening his grip on the sword. "Maybe you're just weaker than you think."
The monster laughed. Loud, cruel, mocking. "You are the first human to entertain me this long. Most scream. Beg. You… run. Slash. Curse. Hah! Glorious!"
It lunged again, and Arsa barely managed to teleport, appearing above the creature mid-air. He aimed for its neck, slashing downward with all his might—only for the beast to twist unnaturally, its spine bending backward like a serpent. It caught him mid-swing and hurled him across the grand hallway like a rag doll.
He crashed hard against a pillar, the impact rattling his bones. The sword flew from his grip again, clattering somewhere into the darkness.
Arsa groaned, trying to move—but something stopped him.
His vision blurred, not from blood or pain this time—but from a strange, cold blue light forming in his mind. It wasn't the first time it had happened. That strange card had appeared just like this.
This time, it was something else.
Before him—within his mind's eye—floated two weapons suspended in a starless void. The first was a revolver — gleaming silver, ornate yet practical, with a blue crystal embedded where the cylinder met the barrel, and floating shards of crystal orbiting the gun's frame like tiny moons. He knew — instinctively — that he could summon and use it repeatedly, channeling his magic into precise, fast strikes.
The second was even more alien: a rifle, massive and ancient-looking, forged from silver with arcane etchings. At the center of its ejection port was a large glowing blue crystal, and smaller fragments circled it like stars caught in orbit. The bolt handle shimmered like frozen lightning. And in that instant, Arsa understood — this was a one-shot weapon. One devastating shot. After firing it, it would vanish, and he would have to wait four hours to use it again.
He blinked, gasping, as the vision faded and the heat of the battlefield returned.
The monster was approaching again, grinning wide, claws twitching with anticipation. "Tired already, little Yrlton?"
Arsa slowly stood, his body still shaking. But his eyes—his eyes were focused now.
"I've got one more trick," he muttered.
He summoned the silver revolver, and it materialized in his hand with a flash of blue light, humming softly with arcane energy. The crystal pulsed like a heartbeat, and the floating shards orbited his wrist.
Bang.
He fired a shot, the recoil surprisingly light—but the impact struck the creature square in the shoulder, blasting away skin and fur in a burst of blue light. The monster roared.
Bang. Another shot to the leg.
Bang. A third near the eye.
The creature screamed, stumbling—but already its wounds were knitting again. It glared at Arsa, snorting. "So… you bring toys to the end of your life?"
Arsa didn't respond. He was already thinking ahead.
I need a plan, he thought. The rifle… It has to be the finishing blow. But I only get one chance. One shot. I can't waste it.
As the creature lunged again, Arsa vanished—reappearing behind it, revolver raised, firing again.
The fight wasn't over.
But for the first time…
He had a way to win.
Arsa's breath was ragged. His body was burning from exertion, wounds screaming at every movement, and he could feel the weight of the battle catching up to him. Blood ran down his arms, and only four teleportation cards remained. Four chances to slip out of death's grip.
Think. Fast. You only get one shot at this.
His eyes shot up to the ceiling of the great hall, his thoughts locking into place.
I need to get it outside.
He inhaled sharply and summoned the wind with a force he hadn't yet tapped into. With a roar like a storm collapsing, he blasted upward, a howling vortex of wind bursting through the ceiling, shattering centuries-old wood and stone, debris raining down like hail.
Arsa shot into the night sky like a cannonball, the wind swirling around him, holding him aloft in the cool night air.
Behind him, the monster howled and followed, leaping through the massive hole in the roof, propelled by unnatural strength and fury.
---
Outside the mansion, on the road, panic was already spreading.
Emma, Rachel, and their parents—Mr. Mervyn Lancaster and Mrs. Evaline Lancaster—stood with a growing crowd of police officers, guards, and staff, all watching the old estate in dread. Soldiers in dark uniforms were setting up positions as orders were barked over the chaos.
Then—
BOOM!
The ceiling of Lord Mervyn's mansion exploded.
Everyone turned as debris flew into the sky, followed by a figure rising upward, caught in a spiral of wind.
Emma gasped. "It's Mr Ashrith!"
Then, a black blur emerged behind him.
The monster.
Civilians screamed. Everyone froze in terror at the grotesque sight now revealed in full—the wolf-bodied, man-faced monstrosity, with writhing testicles and blood-soaked claws, chasing the boy through the sky.
---
Back above the mansion, Arsa gritted his teeth as he zig-zagged mid-air, the revolver in one hand, a card ready in the other.
The monster vanished into its mirror, then reappeared behind him, jaws open wide to snap his spine in half.
Arsa used another card—his third—and vanished just as the creature's jaws closed on empty air.
Only one card left. That's it.
The monster was faster now. Smarter. Every strike was closer. More precise.
Arsa breathed hard, barely dodging another lunge. He looked down—below him was the ruined roof of the mansion, and below that, the people watching. He couldn't let this thing reach them.
The final card glowed in his hand.
"I hope this works…"
As the beast vanished again, Arsa hurled the card straight into the sky, as high as he could, his fingers trembling.
Now.
The moment he sensed the monster's presence closing behind him, he activated the final card.
He teleported.
Time seemed to slow.
He reappeared above the creature, directly overhead, suspended in the air for a brief, perfect second.
The monster's head snapped up in shock.
Arsa didn't hesitate.
With a blue shimmer, he summoned the rifle—silver, enormous, glowing with swirling energy. The floating crystals locked into place, and the power of the gun surged into his hands.
He aimed down.
"Goodbye forever, you disgusting thing."
BANG.
The rifle fired.
The bullet tore through the sky like lightning itself, ripping a hole in space, moving faster than sound, faster than thought.
The creature had no time to scream.
The bullet hit.
The monster's chest exploded in a spray of blood, mirror fragments, and twisted flesh. The body twisted mid-air, limbs flailing.
Its last thought echoed in the void:
How… can a mere human… kill me… an ancient race of beast?
Then its form fell.
It crashed through the mansion roof like a meteor, splattering across the ruins.
Arsa began falling too, his power spent, body limp—but he managed to call on wind again, slowing his descent, landing hard on one knee atop the wreckage.
Silence.
Then—
A voice.
Melodic. Echoing. Feminine. It echoed in his mind like a distant song.
"Now the Mirror Ability is yours…"
Arsa blinked, dazed.
"Huh…?"
He turned his head, looking at the shattered entrance to the hall.
He heard footsteps. Multiple. Fast. Human.
Guards. People.
They were running toward him.
But before he could move—
His body gave out.
Everything went dark.
[To Be Continued…]