When Jason screamed, "You'll pay for this!", Elian no longer felt any pain inside. His gaze was cold, his body tense. The inner conflict had faded, replaced by pure resolve. He wasn't going to wait. He was ready to show them his true strength.
With a brutal crunch, Elian's foot slammed into Jason's gut. The blow echoed through the clearing as Jason doubled over, choking on the pain, trying desperately to hold back a scream. But Elian didn't even look at him—his attention had already shifted to the rest of the group.
Jason's squad erupted in fury.
— "YOU BASTARD! DIE!" — one of them shouted, and in the blink of an eye, they charged.
Elian gave a faint, almost amused smirk. There was no fear in his eyes—only an air of invincibility. He didn't move. His body remained still, but his eyes began to glow, and shadows twisted around him, forming a vortex of dark energy.
— "Good… I was meaning to test something," he said calmly, his voice carrying a sinister echo. His eyes flared—The Eye of Fate had awakened.
In that instant, the battlefield opened before him like a painted map. He saw everything—the enemy's movements, their intentions, their next steps. He knew where each would be a moment before they moved. Knew how they would attack, and how they would fall.
The enemies closed in with fury, but Elian was already ahead of their thoughts. He moved like a shadow, gliding between strikes as if time itself had slowed. Every motion was effortless. Every attack missed him by inches—or rather, by design.
"Miss. Miss. Another miss," he thought, watching their desperate attempts to land a blow.
To him, the world slowed down. Panic crept into the eyes of his opponents as they realized nothing worked. Elian remained motionless, standing still as if anchored by the weight of fate itself. In his eyes was not just power—but the dark satisfaction of watching them struggle in vain.
One by one, they fell. Some never even knew what hit them. Others collapsed without understanding they had already lost.
And then, silence.
Jason's squad lay sprawled across the ground, unconscious, broken, defeated. The clearing was deathly quiet, the echoes of battle fading into the wind.
Elian stood at the center of it all—untouched, unmoved. His eyes, filled with cold indifference, scanned the fallen. There was no joy in his victory—only emptiness. Only silence.
He didn't know what came next. He only knew one thing:
He had won.
And for now… that was enough.