Path of the Unmentioned: The Missing Piece-Chapter 166: The Endgame [7]

(Author’s Note: I’ve changed both commanders’ ranks to Grade 3 Gold. I’ll also make the necessary edits in the previous Chapters as soon as possible.)

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Kyle watched as Rodrick’s blade came down in a brutal arc, severing Halric’s legs in one clean strike.

Blood sprayed across the scorched earth, painting the dirt crimson. Halric didn’t scream.

He just collapsed. His body twitching. His breath ragged. His sword. Shattered.

His pride... broken.

Kyle didn’t move.

He had expected this.

Even though both Halric and Rodrick were Gold-rank fighters. There was a clear difference between them.

Rodrick wasn’t just stronger. He was smarter. More ruthless. More desperate.

And now, after that fight. He was wounded. Exhausted.

’Good.’

That had been the plan all along.

Kyle had known Rodrick wouldn’t kill Halric right away. The man was too proud for that.

Too consumed by his own rage. He’d want to savor the moment, drag out the suffering.

It was a gamble. But if Rodrick had gone for the kill, they would have intervened and saved Halric.

And that was exactly what Kyle had counted on.

Now, Rodrick turned toward him.

Their eyes met across the battlefield.

Flames still flickered around Rodrick’s greatsword, the steel glowing red-hot.

His armor was dented, his cloak torn, blood dripping from fresh wounds. But his gaze?

Pure, undiluted hatred.

Zalrielle trembled in Kyle’s grip. The spirit blade humming with anticipation.

She could feel it too... the storm about to break.

Kyle’s grip on Zalrielle tightened as Rodrick advanced. His greatsword carving a molten path through the dirt.

The air shimmered with heat. The scent of burnt metal and blood thick in the air.

Then... movement.

A ripple in the darkness behind Rodrick.

Eleanora materialized like a shadow stepped out of the void. Her estoc gleaming with inky black energy.

She struck like a viper, fast and merciless, her blade aimed straight for Rodrick’s exposed neck.

"Die," she whispered.

The darkness around her weapon detonated.

A swirling vortex of pure shadow erupting at point-blank range. It roared forward, swallowing light, warping the air.

The ground beneath it crumbling into nothingness.

Rodrick’s eyes widened... Just for a moment.

Then he moved.

With a snarl. He twisted, slamming his greatsword between himself and the shadow blast.

Crimson mana flared, forming a shield of swirling fire.

The darkness crashed into it.

For a heartbeat, both forces clashed. Black void gnawing at searing flame, flame pushing back against the chill.

Then, with a final shudder. The darkness punched through. But Rodrick was already gone.

He sidestepped in a blur, letting the remnants of Eleanora’s attack blast past him.

It hit a group of knights, both Red and Black, erupting in a silent explosion.

When the smoke cleared, there was only a crater left behind.

Rodrick exhaled, rolling his shoulders.

"Nasty little trick," he muttered, turning his gaze to Eleanora. "Let’s see how you handle mine."

He raised a finger.

A tiny sphere of fire sparked into existence. No bigger than a marble. But it pulsed with power.

Then it shot forward. Fast as lightning.

Eleanora’s body tensed. She vanished into shadows just as the fireball hit.

BOOM.

A wall of earth erupted where she had been, soaking the blast.

But the explosion still sent dust and fire flying, and even through the barrier, the shockwave slammed into her.

She stumbled back, catching herself. Before melting into shadow again.

Rodrick turned to the source of the earth wall.

Cassian.

The red-haired fighter stood tall, fists clenched. His gauntlets were glowing with a mix of red and dark brown light.

Fire and earth magic swirled at his command, mixing in volatile heat waves.

Rodrick’s lip curled. "Trying to fight me with fire, boy?"

Cassian smirked. "Ah, ah—not fire."

He slammed his fists on ground.

"Magma."

The ground beneath Rodrick glowed.

Rodrick looked down. A split-second too late.

The earth liquefied... Boiling lava surged upward like a living wave, roaring toward him.

He laughed.

Then jumped.

The magma geyser exploded behind him, sending a column of molten death skyward.

Rodrick spun midair, flipping as if weightless, and landed several meters away. His boots sizzling as they touched the scorched ground.

"Cute," he said with a grin. "But not enough."

Then he blurred.

One second, he was standing there.

The next...

CRACK.

His fist crashed into Cassian’s gut.

The blow sent Cassian flying. No words. No sound... just shock in his wide eyes as his body arched from the impact.

He soared through the air and smashed through a broken barricade, wood splinters exploding around him.

Rodrick didn’t wait.

The moment the ground trembled beneath his boots, he moved.

His greatsword flared with molten light as he twisted and swung upward. Just in time to parry a flash of violet lightning streaking toward his head.

Serena dropped from the sky like a thunderbolt.

Her glaive crackled with raw energy, arcs of electricity dancing up and down its polished steel.

She struck hard, and fast, her strikes carving the air in a deadly rhythm.

Each swing forced Rodrick back, step by step. Lightning flashing and sparking with every clash.

But he was smiling.

"Faster," he said, eyes glowing faintly with ember-red light. "Hit harder."

Serena’s gaze sharpened. She twisted on her heel, feinted left, then spun. Her glaive a blur of purple light. Electricity surged at the tip.

"[Rend]"

The word left her mouth like a trigger.

A focused bolt of lightning exploded from the blade, lancing straight for Rodrick’s chest with pinpoint precision.

He didn’t move.

He reached out. Barehanded, and caught it.

The lightning hissed and screamed in his palm, struggling to escape. Rodrick’s grin deepened.

Then he clenched his fist.

The bolt shattered with a sharp crackle of air. Pieces of electric mana flickering out into smoke.

Serena’s breath hitched.

She barely had time to react before Rodrick’s sword came up in a wide arc.

CLANG!

Cedric was there.

His longsword blazed with golden flames, fire and light intertwined. As he met Rodrick’s swing head-on

The two blades crashed together, sparks flying in every direction. The heat distorted the air between them.

Cedric’s boots slid back slightly, but he held his ground.

"You are not the only one who can play with fire," Cedric said, teeth clenched.

Rodrick chuckled. "Oh? Then show me something worth watching."

He shoved forward.

The force of his strength alone sent Cedric staggering back, his heels carving grooves in the dirt.

But the blond knight quickly righted himself, sword glowing brighter. Fire curling around his shoulders like a cloak.

And then... Kyle moved.

He stepped into view from the left, ten paces away. His blade, Zalrielle, was already raised.

The air around him cracked and shifted. Lightning shimmered across the silver of his sword, coiling like a serpent.

A freezing wind followed, coating the edges of his blade in shimmering frost.

His eyes were calm. Cold.

Rodrick noticed him and grinned wider.

"Finally. You."

Kyle didn’t answer.

He slashed.

A wave of lightning shot forward, bright and fast, and right behind it... Ice.

Jagged, razor-sharp shards of frozen wind tore through the air, spiraling with the crackling storm.

Two elements, fused into one relentless force, howled toward Rodrick like a storm given shape.

Rodrick didn’t flinch.

He lifted his sword and swung straight into the oncoming magic.

A burst of fire erupted from the blade.

BOOOOM!

The impact was explosive. Lightning clashed with flame, ice hissed and shattered under the heat.

A deafening shockwave tore through the battlefield, throwing up a cloud of dust and debris that blotted out the sun for a moment.

The wind roared.

When the smoke finally cleared, Rodrick was still there.

Steam curled from the edges of his blackened armor. A shallow scorch mark ran across his shoulder, but that was it.

He was grinning.

"Is that all?" he asked, voice almost playful.

Kyle narrowed his eyes but didn’t speak. He already knew the answer.

Even together... they were barely hurting him.

Even exhausted... even wounded...

Rodrick was a Gold-ranker.

And not just any Gold-ranker.

He was something else entirely.

Rodrick rolled his shoulders. Then he moved.

A blur.. Faster than any of them could track.

Kyle’s eyes widened.

He barely had time to lift Zalrielle before Rodrick was right in front of him.

The greatsword came down like a thunderclap.

CLANG!

The impact rattled Kyle’s bones, his arms screaming in protest.

The blow sent him skidding backward across the ground, his boots carving trenches into the earth.

Sparks flew from his sword as it locked with Rodrick’s.

But there was no time to breathe.

Rodrick followed.

A second strike.

Then a third.

Each swing hit like a battering ram, hammering Kyle’s guard until cracks began to form in his stance.

On the fourth strike..

Rodrick’s boot slammed into his chest.

CRACK.

Kyle felt the shock ripple through his ribs. Air left his lungs in a burst.

He flew.

He hit the ground hard, rolling twice before sliding to a stop. Dirt filled his mouth. His vision spun.

He coughed, struggling to sit up.

Rodrick didn’t even look winded.

He turned, slowly, surveying the battlefield like a general bored of the war.

"Pathetic," he muttered.

His greatsword burned again, glowing red-hot as he raised it over his shoulder.

The fight wasn’t over.

But the battlefield had already chosen a victor.

Rodrick... was in control.

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