Reborn with the SSS-Rank Creator System-Chapter 14: Your son is useless

In an instant, Xiphos and the sub-leader vanished from their spots, reappearing mid-air as the metallic clash of swords rang out like thunder. Sparks exploded at the point of impact, and the force of their clash sent a sharp shockwave that rippled through the clearing, toppling nearby shrubs and shattering brittle stones in their path.

The sub-leader snarled, his muscles bulging as he pushed against Xiphos' blade. "Bone Forging brat dares to face me? I'm in the seventh stage of Muscle Forging!"

Xiphos didn't flinch, but beneath his calm facade, rage and sorrow burned deep. Elena's warmth, her kindness—it was all gone. He had never known a mother's touch until her, and now that warmth had been ripped away. His grip on the sword tightened.

"Then you'd better act like it," he growled.

They separated with a sharp gust of pressure, each sliding several feet back. Without pause, they re-engaged. Xiphos' strikes were clean, elegant, his blade gliding like flowing water. The sub-leader relied on brute power, and it showed in the way chunks of the terrain were torn apart and old wooden beams splintered under the weight of their wild clashes.

Their battle continued evenly, neither gaining ground. Xiphos used the terrain to his advantage, darting between fallen beams and trees while slashing at exposed limbs. But the sub-leader's raw strength forced him to keep moving, avoiding direct exchanges.

Then, as the pace intensified, Xiphos exhaled slowly and activated a technique passed down to him by his master—a sword form beyond simple slashes, where illusion followed steel. It was a technique he had kept hidden until now. As he moved, his sword left behind shimmering afterimages, illusions that mimicked the same trajectory and speed.

The sub-leader's eyes widened. "W-what? How many swords do you have?!"

He slashed at one of the illusions, but it passed through harmlessly. In that moment of confusion, the real blade nicked his side. Xiphos flowed through the motion and spun, the illusionary afterimages masking his real position.

The sub-leader grunted, his breathing heavier. "Cheap tricks won't save you!"

"They're not tricks," Xiphos said softly. "They're training."

The sub-leader roared and slammed his blade into the ground, sending a fissure tearing through the soil. Xiphos leapt aside, rebounding off a splintered log and landing in a controlled crouch. His sword shimmered again, multiplying as he moved.

After few more exchanges, the sub-leader staggered back, his body covered in cuts and bruises. Blood dripped from a deep gash along his thigh, his left arm hung limply from a severe cut, and his once-dominant swings now lacked their previous force. His breathing had become ragged, his muscles twitched from exhaustion, and his vision blurred from the relentless onslaught. Every attempt to strike back had been met with a cold, calculated counter from Xiphos, his afterimage technique disorienting him at every turn.

"Shit... shit... how can you be this strong?!" the sub-leader spat, his grip on his sword tightening in desperation. His feet dug into the broken ground as he tried to steady himself. He lunged forward again, attempting a wild downward slash, but Xiphos sidestepped effortlessly, his sword flicking upward in a perfect arc. The sub-leader barely managed to block, but the impact sent him stumbling.

Xiphos remained eerily calm, his blindfold fluttering slightly from the wind of their battle. "You're done"

The sub-leader gritted his teeth, frustration boiling over. He swung wildly, his attacks becoming sloppy. Xiphos ducked, pivoted, and delivered a precise slash across his chest, sending the man skidding backward, gasping for air.

This fight is over, Xiphos thought as he stepped forward, his sword poised for the finishing blow.

But just as his blade was about to descend, the sub-leader let out a guttural roar and lunged backward, shoving his hand into his robes. Before Xiphos could react, the man crushed a dark pill between his teeth and swallowed it in one motion.

A moment of stillness.

Then, black aura erupted from his body, spreading like a thick fog. The air around him turned oppressive, heavy with a twisted energy. His wounds stopped bleeding, his muscles bulged unnaturally, and his eyes burned with a feral light. The very ground beneath him splintered, spiderweb-like cracks forming from the sheer pressure he now emitted.

Xiphos immediately felt the change. His instincts screamed at him. This wasn't the same opponent anymore.

"What... what is that?" Xiphos muttered, gripping his sword tighter.

The sub-leader let out a deep, menacing chuckle. "Let's see how you fare now!" he bellowed before vanishing from sight.

Xiphos barely had time to react before a fist slammed into his gut, sending him hurtling through the air. His body crashed through trees, splintering them on impact, before skidding along the dirt. Blood filled his mouth as he forced himself to his feet, only for the sub-leader to appear right in front of him again.

Xiphos lifted his sword just in time, blocking a powerful downward slash, but the force behind it was unlike anything before. His knees buckled, the ground beneath him erupted in a concussive burst, displacing soil and cracking the landscape around them, and his arms screamed in pain from the impact. The sub-leader didn't let up—his attacks came like a storm, relentless and overpowering.

For the first time in this fight, Xiphos was on the losing end.

They clashed again and again, the illusions no longer enough. Each hit Xiphos blocked rattled his bones. He was pushed back, bruised, bloodied—but his focus never faltered.

Then the moment came. The sub-leader raised his sword overhead for a decisive strike. Xiphos stepped into the swing, allowing the blade to tear across his shoulder. It wasn't a reckless move—it was calculated. He had realized the sub-leader's new strength left too few openings. If he tried to dodge or parry again, the next blow might be fatal. But if he took this hit... if he endured the pain and traded injury for position, he could land the strike that mattered.

If I miss this, it's over, he thought. But if I don't try, I'll never win. Elena, you gave me the strength to fight. Now give me the will to finish it. Pain flared through his body, hot and sharp, but he clenched his jaw and endured it. I can't let it end like this... not after everything she gave me... The image of Elena's smile flashed in his mind, grounding him.

As the blood flowed freely from his wound, Xiphos planted his foot and twisted his torso, channeling every last ounce of control into his strike. In that instant, his sword moved in a flawless arc, cutting through the air like a whisper.

A flash.

Steel tore through flesh with a sickening sound. The blade cut deep—starting at the base of the sub-leader's ribcage and slicing diagonally through his torso. Bone cracked, muscle split, and a geyser of blood erupted from the wound. The black aura that had been raging around him flickered violently, its shape collapsing and distorting as if resisting the finality of death.

The sub-leader gasped, his body reeling. The corrupted energy surged once, trying to hold him together, but it was futile. The strike had torn through his core, and the unnatural boost granted by the pill could no longer sustain him.

Xiphos staggered a step back, his face pale, blood soaking through his robe from the deep gash across his shoulder. His entire left arm burned with pain, his legs wobbled slightly beneath him, but his sword remained steady—held with the iron will of someone who had nothing left to lose.

"You're done," he said, voice cold, low, and final.

The sub-leader stumbled once, then dropped to his knees. His blade slipped from his hand and clattered onto the broken ground. He stared ahead blankly for a moment—then fell forward, face-first into the dirt, unmoving.

Read 𝓁at𝙚st chapters at ƒrēenovelkiss.com Only.

Meanwhile, as Xiphos clashed with the sub-leader, Theos stood still, his eyes locked onto the leader who sat atop a mound of corpses like a king over carnage. His eyes, now pitch black from overwhelming killing intent, burned with silent fury. The air around him grew colder, every breath laced with hatred.

His gaze shifted to Samuel, who was struggling to stay conscious under the leader's boot. Their eyes met.

"S-Sorry... Theos," Samuel whispered. "Your father is... weak. I couldn't even save your mother. I'm sorry... for being a burden to you."

Theos felt something break inside him. A single tear traced down his cheek, hot against his frozen skin. But his rage didn't fade—it sharpened. His expression twisted—not with sorrow, but with purpose and fury.

"No, Papa," Theos whispered, voice tight. "Don't apologize. If anyone's at fault... it's me. Your son is useless. I wanted to become strong... but I lost what was most precious."

His voice deepened, shaking with fury. "I will kill him. I will not just kill him... I'll erase his soul so it can never reincarnate. I promise you, Papa."

He lowered his gaze slightly. "Sorry, Mumma... your son is useless. But I will take revenge. I swear it."

The leader looked down and scoffed. With a mocking chuckle, he kicked Samuel aside like garbage. Samuel's body rolled motionless, unconscious.

Theos didn't even blink.

The leader laughed, his grin twisted and devilish. "Oye, boy," he sneered. "You think you can take me down? Me?"

He stood, spreading his arms like a performer on stage.

"First, I'll kill you. Then, I'll kill everyone else left here. Maybe I'll burn what's left of this pathetic village to ash. Hahahaha!"

Theos stepped forward. The world no longer mattered. Only the man who dared to hurt his family. His fingers curled slowly into fists. The cold around him grew sharper. The earth beneath him began to crack.

His eyes, still locked on the leader, burned with a single thought: You will die.