Thorns last breath

The forest lay still—drowned in suffocating silence.

Around him, twisted vines and snarling thorns clawed against the moonlight like rebels in the dark.

The air was thin, heavy with the scent of rot and vine.

Each breath burned deep in his lungs—poisoned fire racing through his veins.

A carpet of brittle leaves stretched beneath his feet, hiding the cold earth of the camp.

He staggered forward.

Wounds burned.

Muscles screamed like they'd tear apart at any moment.

Blood and dirt streaked his face.

But his eyes—silver and cold—held a calm, unyielding resolve.

Every breath, every heartbeat… thundered in his ears like war drums.

His fingers curled tight around the hilt of his sword.

The blade shimmered faintly in the moonlight, a sliver of steel and fate.

Ahead—she waited.

The Necrothorn.

No mindless beast, but a predator carved from vine and venom.

Emerald eyes glowing with quiet, deadly intent.

Her slender form woven from countless small vines, crowned with curling thorns that twisted like a sinister halo.

Karze stopped, barely meters away.

He relaxed his free hand.

Fingertips twitched—and then, silver strings—thin as needles—unfurled silently, glowing faintly beneath the moon's gaze.

She stepped forward.

"Why throw your life away…"

Her voice cut through the stillness.

Her hand extended, and a long, green-bladed sword materialized, gleaming with lethal grace.

She gripped it tight, lips twisting into a smile carved from thorns.

"Is she really worth it?"

Karze's gaze locked on her blade, calm and calculating.

A quick glance at the challenge screen.

Ten minutes.

"I need to end this. Now."

Lowering his center of gravity, he dashed forward—blurred motion slicing through the cold air.

She followed.

"Another useless trick… how pitiful."

Vines whipped forward, massive and snarling, slicing through the air.

Karze moved like smoke—fluid, precise.

His silver strings sliced through the green assault like a hot blade through silk.

A vine lunged for his head, grazing him, leaving a shallow cut.

Six more surged.

Every dodge was deliberate, every strike calculated to save energy.

No matter how many thorns she threw, he danced through them—cutting, weaving, relentless.

He stepped on one vine, severed it clean, and closed the distance—refusing to give her momentum.

She lunged, and they collided—shockwaves exploding, leaves raining like blood-red snow.

They hit the ground but wasted no time.

Blades sang—a deadly melody known only to them.

Steel clashed—shattering the silence, birthing a brutal symphony.

Their battle was fierce—violent—a raging storm of fury and precision.

She moved with twisted grace.

Her sword slithered like a serpent—coiling and striking unpredictably.

Karze felt every wound flare.

Muscles tore.

Bones cracked.

She was strong.

But he was skilled.

He flowed like smoke, bent like water, struck like a viper.

Mind sharp as ice.

Eyes razor-focused—seizing every crack in her defenses.

But she healed faster than he could wound her.

Blood poured from dozens of cuts.

Glancing at the screen again—three minutes.

Neither yielded.

Speed intensified.

Their forms blurred—light and shadow colliding.

Steel and thorn danced.

Sparks and vines flew in chaos.

The mountain trembled beneath their fury.

Suddenly, a grin twisted her lips.

Dozens of vines attacked from behind.

Karze didn't flinch.

As they closed in, he sliced them all down—wood raining like splinters of death.

Shock flashed across her vine-woven face.

Behind him, five silver strings shimmered—dancing, ready to strike any threat.

She clenched thorny teeth and roared—a screech that tore through Karze's ears like jagged glass.

Lightning-fast, she lunged for his throat.

He dodged—barely—falling back several meters.

"You're very annoying, human. You know that?"

She stood unbroken—unyielding despite exhaustion and wounds.

Karze barely held himself upright—body screaming in pain.

Every breath felt like lungs on fire.

His muscles howled in agony.

Thorns pierced his thigh, fiery leaves burned his arm and side—poison enough to fell ten men.

Yet she stood tall.

He was bleeding out, but still alive.

Pain twisted his face as he shut his eyes and slowed his breath.

Whispered—voice cold and hard as steel:

"DEATH'S HAND."

In an instant, he vanished—shadows swallowing his form.

The Necrothorn's eyes darted—scanning, searching.

"Got you…"

She spun and thrust her blade to the right—only to find Karze's body there, her hand plunged deep into his chest.

He coughed—blood spilling from cracked lips.

"That was your big move?

I was kinda excited se—"

Her words faltered—confusion flickering across her vine-wrapped face.

She staggered back—limbs trembling as if refusing to hold her weight.

"Wh-what have y—"

She collapsed to her knees.

Eyes locked weakly on him.

Something was missing—but she didn't know what.

Karze ignored his own agony—the massive wound in his chest—moved regardless.

He sat up, dark eyes alive and sharp.

"Still disappointed, my queen?"

Her emerald gaze shifted to his left hand.

Shock flared—her scowl deepened.

Resting there—shimmering green—a glass jewel.

Her heart.

"You little pri—"

He crushed it before she could finish—without a breath of hesitation.

She looked at him, a flicker of emotion—neither hate nor love—only sympathy.

Her voice drifted—a fading whisper in the dark:

"You're gonna regret saving her... one day you will."

That was her last breath.

Karze rose—pain crashing over him like a tidal wave.

His chest burned like a torch aflame.

Bones ached as if ready to shatter.

"To hell with that…"

He groaned, taking a step—then collapsed back to the earth.

Eyes locked on the challenge screen.

One minute.

He bared his teeth—spat blood—rose to one knee.

"Get up, damn it."

His body refused.

But stubborn as ever, he summoned his silver sword and leaned on it.

Still, he collapsed, leaves crashing beneath him—breaking the silence like a dying scream.

He lay still.

Eyes burning with fury—staring toward where he came from.

Then NEXAR's voice echoed in his mind.

Soft. Soothing. Deadly.

"You have overcome your challenge.

For your thrilling display, you have received a new attribute…"

Her voice faded as darkness crept in.

"Vital Flux."

At the word, energy flooded through him—wounds knitting faster than thought.

Seconds later—he looked unharmed.

"Hold on, Evae…"

And then he was gone.

Faster than time could catch.

Where he had just lain—a red holographic screen hovered.

Its face etched with ancient runes and swirling designs.

At its center—two glowing runes read:

"One minute."

The screen flickered—then glitched—vanished like a whisper of death.

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