Chapter 124: The Iron Spear

Chapter 124: Chapter 124: The Iron Spear

POV Switch: Paul

Lord Ashworth stood there, his form wreathed in flames.

His body was wreathed in flames, the fire dancing. His eyes were glowing red, the light intense. His aura was blazing, the energy radiating. The heat radiating from him was intense, the temperature rising. It was suffocating, the air thick. It was overwhelming, the power immense.

He had entered stage three, his power ascending.

Paul watched him, his eyes fixed. His expression was calm, the features unreadable. His wind swirled around him, the air moving. He was ready, his body tense.

"So," Lord Ashworth said, his voice deeper now. More powerful, the tone commanding. More menacing, the threat clear. "You’re not the only one who can reach stage three."

Paul didn’t answer, his silence speaking.

"I’ve been training for decades. I’ve been fighting for decades. I’ve been killing for decades. I’ve reached stage three through hard work and determination."

Paul still didn’t answer, his expression unchanged.

"You? You’re just a child. A street rat. A nobody. You reached stage three through luck. Through chance. Through accident."

Paul smiled, a cold, dangerous smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

"Luck had nothing to do with it," he said, his voice flat.

Lord Ashworth laughed, a cold, mocking sound.

"We’ll see," he said, his voice low.

He charged, his body surging forward.

He was faster now, the speed incredible. Much faster, the pace blinding. His flames propelled him forward, the fire pushing. He moved like a rocket, the trajectory straight. He moved like a meteor, the force immense. He moved like a god of fire, the power overwhelming.

Paul dodged, his body moving. Barely, the margin thin. The flaming fist passed inches from his face, the heat intense. The heat scorched his skin, the pain sharp. He stumbled back, his balance wavering.

Lord Ashworth didn’t stop, his assault relentless. He spun, his body twisting. He kicked, his leg extending. His flaming foot connected with Paul’s side, the impact thunderous. Paul flew backward, his body tumbling. He crashed into a wall, the stone crumbling. The wall crumbled, the structure collapsing.

Paul pushed himself up, his arms straining. His side was burning, the pain intense. His ribs were cracked, the bones broken. He was hurt, his body damaged.

Lord Ashworth laughed, a cold, mocking sound. "You see? This is the power of stage three. This is the power of a true fire talent user."

Paul didn’t answer, his silence speaking. He just stood there, his form steady. His wind swirled around him, the air moving. His expression was calm, the features unreadable.

Lord Ashworth charged again, his body surging. He threw a punch, his fist flying. Paul dodged, his body moving. He threw another, the fist swinging. Paul dodged, his form twisting. He threw another, the punch cutting. Paul dodged, his body shifting.

But Lord Ashworth was faster now, the speed increased. Stronger, the force greater. More relentless, the assault unceasing. His attacks were coming faster, the pace quickening. Harder, the impact heavier. More deadly, the threat greater.

Paul was struggling, his body failing. He was dodging, his form moving. He was blocking, his arms raising. He was countering, his hands striking. But he was losing ground, his position weakening. He was being pushed back, his body retreating.

Lord Ashworth threw a flaming kick, his leg extending. Paul blocked it with a wind shield, his hand raising. The shield shattered, the barrier breaking. Paul flew backward, his body tumbling. He crashed into another wall, the stone crumbling. The wall crumbled, the structure collapsing.

Paul pushed himself up, his arms straining. His body was broken, the damage severe. His wind was flickering, the energy fading. He was exhausted, his strength depleted.

Lord Ashworth walked toward him, his steps slow. Slowly, the pace measured. Deliberately, each step placed with purpose. His flames burned brighter, the light intensifying. His eyes glowed redder, the color deepening.

"You’re weak," he said, his voice flat. "You’re pathetic. You’re nothing."

Paul didn’t answer, his silence speaking.

"I’m going to kill you. Slowly. Painfully. I’m going to make you suffer."

Paul still didn’t answer, his expression unchanged.

"I’m going to make you watch as I kill your elf friend. I’m going to make you listen as she screams. I’m going to make you beg for death."

Paul’s expression didn’t change, his features still. But his eyes were colder now, the gaze icy.

"You won’t touch her," he said, his voice low.

Lord Ashworth laughed, a cold, mocking sound. "Oh? And who’s going to stop me? You?"

"Yes."

"You can barely stand. You can barely breathe. You can barely fight."

"I can still fight."

"Then fight."

Paul charged, his body surging.

He threw a punch, his fist flying. Lord Ashworth caught it, his hand closing. He squeezed, his grip tightening. Paul’s bones cracked, the sound sharp. He screamed, his voice piercing. He pulled back, his arm retreating. He kicked, his leg extending. Lord Ashworth blocked, his arm raising. He countered, his fist flying. Paul flew backward, his body tumbling. He crashed into a wall, the stone crumbling.

Lord Ashworth walked toward him, his steps slow. His flames burned brighter, the light intensifying. His eyes glowed redder, the color deepening.

"Pathetic," he said, his voice flat. "Absolutely pathetic."

Paul pushed himself up, his arms straining. His body was broken, the damage severe. His wind was gone, the energy depleted. He was exhausted, his strength fading.

Lord Ashworth raised his hand, his arm extending. Fire gathered in his palm, the flames swirling. It swirled, the motion circular. It grew, the size increasing. It compressed, the density rising. It became a spear, the weapon forming. A long, thin spear of pure flame, the shape deadly.

"Goodbye," he said, his voice low.

He thrust the spear forward, his arm extending.

Paul closed his eyes, his lids lowering. He waited for the end, his body still.

Then something happened, the moment sudden.

An iron spear stabbed through Lord Ashworth’s fist, the weapon piercing.

Lord Ashworth screamed, his voice piercing. He stumbled back, his body retreating. He clutched his hand, his fingers gripping. The fire spear dissipated, the flames fading. The iron spear was still there, the weapon embedded. It was embedded in his palm, the metal deep. Blood poured from the wound, the liquid warm.

Paul opened his eyes, his lids rising. He stared, his gaze fixed. His mouth was open, the jaw dropping.

A figure stepped out of the shadows, the form emerging.

It was Cheeky, her identity clear.

Her hands were raised, the palms open. Her metal swirled around her, the weapons orbiting. Her expression was determined, the features set. Her eyes were fierce, the gaze burning.

"Stay away from him," she said, her voice firm.

Lord Ashworth stared at her, his eyes fixed. His face was twisted with rage, the features contorting. His hand was bleeding, the wound deep. His flames were flickering, the fire wavering.

"You," he spat, his voice venomous. "You did this?"

Cheeky didn’t answer, her silence speaking.

"You’re an elf. You’re a slave. You’re nothing."

Cheeky still didn’t answer, her expression unchanged.

"You think you can stop me? You think you can hurt me?"

Cheeky smiled, a cold, dangerous smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

"I just did," she said, her voice flat.

Lord Ashworth screamed, his voice piercing. His flames exploded outward, the fire surging. They scorched the ground, the stone blackening. They cracked the stone, the surface splintering. They filled the air with heat, the temperature rising.

"I’ll kill you!" he shouted, his voice desperate. "I’ll kill you both!"

Cheeky didn’t move, her body still. She just stood there, her form steady. Her metal swirled around her, the weapons orbiting. Her expression was calm, the features unreadable.

"Try," she said, her voice flat.