Chapter 97: The Breaking Point

Chapter 97: Chapter 97: The Breaking Point

Benjamin stood up.

His body was whole again. His wounds were closed. His bones were mended. His skin was unmarked. The regeneration had done its work, slow and steady, pulling his broken body back together piece by piece.

He rolled his shoulders. He cracked his neck. He looked at Brutus.

Brutus was still standing. Barely. His chest was heaving. His arms were trembling. His legs were shaking. The golden aura around him was flickering, pulsing weakly, struggling to hold on.

"You’re still standing," Benjamin said. "I’m impressed."

Brutus didn’t answer. He couldn’t. His mouth was dry. His throat was raw. His breath came in short, sharp gasps.

"But you’re slowing down," Benjamin continued. "I can see it. Your movements are heavy. Your reactions are dull. The technique is eating you alive."

Brutus raised his fists. They were shaking.

"I’m not done," he said.

"You are."

Benjamin raised his hand. Wind gathered in his palm. A blade formed. Purple. Crackling. Deadly.

He lunged.

Brutus blocked. The impact sent him sliding backward. His feet dug into the ground. He stopped. He charged.

He threw a punch. Benjamin dodged. He kicked. Benjamin blocked. He slammed. Benjamin sidestepped.

The fight resumed.

But it was different now.

Brutus was slower. His attacks were weaker. His movements were heavy. The golden aura was fading.

Benjamin was faster. His attacks were sharper. His movements were fluid. The purple aura was blazing.

They clashed again. And again. And again.

Each exchange left Brutus weaker. Each blow drained more of his strength. Each second brought more pain.

Elara watched from the edge of the clearing. Her body was broken. Her mana was gone. She couldn’t help. She could barely stand.

Paul was beside her. He was in the same condition. His wind was gone. His mana was depleted. He was leaning against a rock, breathing hard.

"He’s not going to make it," Paul said.

Elara didn’t answer. She just watched.

Brutus threw a punch. Benjamin caught it. He squeezed. Brutus’s bones cracked. He screamed. He pulled back. He kicked. Benjamin blocked. He countered. Brutus flew backward. He crashed into a tree.

He stood up. Slowly. Painfully.

Blood dripped from his nose.

He wiped it away. He charged again.

Benjamin laughed. "You’re bleeding."

Brutus didn’t answer.

"You’re bleeding from your nose. That means the technique is damaging your internal organs. Your brain. Your lungs. Your heart."

Brutus threw another punch. Benjamin dodged.

"You’re dying," Benjamin said. "Slowly. Painfully. And there’s nothing you can do about it."

Brutus kept fighting.

He threw punches. He threw kicks. He used every form. Every technique. Every ounce of power he had left.

Benjamin took it all. He regenerated. He counterattacked. He mocked.

"You’re a fool," Benjamin said. "You could have run. You could have surrendered. You could have lived."

Brutus didn’t answer.

"But you chose to fight. You chose to die. For what? For people who don’t even know your name?"

Brutus threw a punch. Benjamin caught it. He twisted Brutus’s arm. Brutus screamed. He pulled back. He stumbled.

"For a guild that will forget you?" Benjamin continued. "For a family that isn’t even your real family?"

Brutus charged. He tackled Benjamin. They crashed into the ground. Brutus punched. Again. And again. And again.

Benjamin took the blows. He regenerated. He pushed Brutus off. He stood up.

"You’re persistent," he said. "I’ll give you that."

Brutus stood up. His legs were shaking. His arms were trembling. His vision was blurring.

Blood dripped from his ears.

He wiped it away. He charged again.

Elara watched. Her eyes were wet. Her hands were clenched.

"Brutus," she whispered. "Stop. Please stop."

Brutus didn’t stop.

He kept fighting. He kept attacking. He kept pushing.

Benjamin kept dodging. He kept countering. He kept mocking.

"You’re bleeding from your ears now," Benjamin said. "That means your brain is swelling. You’re going to die soon."

Brutus threw a punch. Benjamin caught it. He squeezed. Brutus’s hand cracked. He screamed.

"Your bones are breaking," Benjamin said. "Your muscles are tearing. Your organs are failing."

Brutus pulled his hand free. He stumbled back. He fell to one knee.

Benjamin walked toward him. Slowly. Deliberately.

"You’ve lost," he said.

Brutus looked up at him. His eyes were bloodshot. Blood dripped from the corners.

"No," he whispered.

"You have. Accept it."

Brutus pushed himself up. He stood. He raised his fists.

"I haven’t lost," he said. "Not yet."

Benjamin sighed. He raised his hand. Wind gathered.

"Then I’ll end this."

He threw the wind blade.

Brutus dodged. Barely. The blade cut through his shoulder. Blood sprayed. He stumbled. He caught himself.

He charged.

Benjamin threw another blade. Brutus dodged. Another. He dodged. Another. He dodged.

He reached Benjamin. He threw a punch. Benjamin caught it. He squeezed. Brutus’s fist cracked. He screamed.

Benjamin punched him in the stomach. Brutus doubled over. He gasped. He choked.

Benjamin punched him in the face. Brutus flew backward. He crashed into a rock. The rock shattered.

He lay there. His body was broken. His blood was everywhere. His vision was dark.

He tried to stand. His legs wouldn’t work.

He tried to move. His arms wouldn’t work.

He tried to breathe. His lungs wouldn’t work.

He lay there. Broken. Dying.

Elara ran toward him. She fell to her knees beside him. She grabbed his hand.

"Brutus," she said. "Brutus, stay with me."

Brutus looked at her. His eyes were unfocused. His breath was shallow.

"I’m sorry," he whispered. "I tried."

"You did good," Elara said. "You did so good."

"I tried to keep my promise."

"You did. You kept it."

Brutus smiled. A weak, tired smile.

"Good," he said.

His eyes closed.

His body went still.

Elara stared at him. Her heart stopped.

"Brutus?" she whispered. "Brutus!"

He didn’t respond.

"No," she said. "No, no, no."

She shook him. She slapped his face. She screamed.

Paul crawled toward them. He was crying. He was shaking.

"He’s not dead," he said. "He’s not dead. He can’t be dead."

Elara checked his pulse. She checked his breath. She checked his heart.

"He’s alive," she said. "Barely. But alive."

Paul collapsed with relief. He sobbed. He laughed. He cried.

"He’s alive," he repeated. "He’s alive."

Benjamin walked toward them. His wind blade was ready. His eyes were cold.

"Move," he said.

Elara looked up at him. Her eyes were burning.

"No," she said.

"Move, or die with him."

"No."

Benjamin raised the blade. "Then die."

He swung.

Then a shadow formed under Brutus.

A dark pool. A swirling vortex. A door.

Fluffy emerged.

She grabbed Brutus by the collar. She pulled. He slid into the shadow. He disappeared.

Benjamin stared. His mouth fell open.

"What—" he started.

Fluffy disappeared. The shadow closed. Brutus was gone.

Benjamin screamed. He slashed at the ground. The shadow scattered. But Brutus was gone.

"No!" Benjamin shouted. "No!"

He looked around. He saw Elara. He saw Paul. He saw the empty space where Brutus had been.

"Where is he?" he demanded. "Where did you take him?"

Elara didn’t answer. She was staring at the shadow. At the empty space. At where Brutus had been.

"He’s safe," she whispered.

Benjamin raised his blade. "I’ll kill you both. Then I’ll find him. Then I’ll kill him too."

He swung.

A gunshot rang out.

The bullet hit Benjamin’s blade. It shattered. He stumbled back. He looked around.

Daniel walked out of the shadows.

His hands were in his pockets. His expression was calm. He looked like he was taking a stroll through a park.

Behind him were Lyra, Cheeky, and Brick Head.

Daniel didn’t look at Benjamin. He didn’t acknowledge him. He just walked past him.

He walked toward Paul.

Paul was on the ground. His body was broken. His face was bruised. His clothes were torn.

Daniel stopped in front of him. He looked down at him. His expression was calm.

"Man," Daniel said. "You look like shit."

Paul looked up at him. His eyes were red. His face was a mess. He was exhausted. He was broken. He was alive.

He laughed. A weak, tired laugh.

"Tell me about it," he said.