Kanoru's role is clear—attack. His two allies, the pegasus and the manticore, take turns blocking the rhino's strikes. Alone, neither can withstand the beast, but together they hold the line, their efforts just enough to deflect its attacks. Their own blows barely scratch the rhino's elemental skin, while Kanoru's grey energy can at least carve shallow wounds into it.
But even his attacks don't cause the festering damage they usually do. The rhino's energy level matches his own. There's no overwhelming edge.
With their current strength, they can't kill the rhino outright. They have to wait—for it to exhaust itself. That will take time. Hours, maybe an entire day. And in a war this large, time is dangerous. The Greyrose Circus still holds the advantage elsewhere. Every moment spent here could cost them the battle.
This is Kanoru's full power. He can't push any further in the short term. Not unless he comprehends a new element, and that's not something he can do mid-battle.
He's hit his ceiling. And he knows it.
The only path forward is what he started earlier—comprehending the rune formation within the grey energy. Understanding how the wind, water, and fire runes are arranged, how they merge, how they resonate. Only then can he truly apply the grey energy, form proper spells, and draw on the world's support to amplify their power.
Until now, he had relied on explosive energy as it was—raw, unstable, but strong enough to crush Spirit Lords. He hadn't needed refined spells. His priority had been breaking into the Spirit King Realm as quickly as possible. But now, everything has changed. The enemies are stronger. One after another, they surpass him in energy or power. Without spells, without precision, he can't keep up.
Worse, every use of grey energy wastes chakra. He has to split his chakra into six streams, convert each into a separate alien energy, then merge them again into the grey form. Every step bleeds power.
What he needs is a direct conversion—chakra to grey energy in one step, and back again. Instant, fluid, efficient.
So, as he circles the rhino, dodging red lightning and lashing attacks, part of his mind breaks off from the fight. Like before, he starts to comprehend—analyzing the grey energy's structure, tracing its rune matrix, searching for a way to make it his own.
The sky ripples with pressure as the battle rages on.
The white pegasus spreads its wings, trails of mist curling from its feathers. Water gathers around its body, shaped into translucent shields that refract beams of light. With a flap, it hurls both elements forward—light-laced water spears striking the red rhino's side. Steam erupts on impact, but the beast barely slows.
The manticore roars next. Roots burst from the clouds beneath its paws, coiling upward to snare the rhino's legs. Earth pillars rise in jagged bursts, slamming into the titan's chest, trying to stagger him. But the rhino just barrels through. Its red thunder chains flare with violent energy, breaking the binds and shattering stone.
Kanoru weaves between them—fast, precise, relentless.
His grey blade slices forward, dragging across the rhino's hardened elemental skin. The wound festers, a thin black line blooming across the beast's side. But within seconds, red thunder flashes through the wound, closing it. The phantasm's regeneration is monstrous.
The rhino counters with a full-body charge.
Kanoru darts away, but the beast's tail, wrapped in red lightning, lashes toward him like a whip.
Before it strikes, a cold burst explodes between them—Pegasus.
The celestial horse throws itself between them, a radiant water-light shield flaring just in time to absorb the blow. The impact sends it spiraling, feathers scorched, but it catches the wind again with a shrill cry.
The rhino twists, turning toward Kanoru again.
This time, the ground itself rises—a wall of earth, roots reinforcing its base.
The manticore lunges beside it, biting down on one of the thunder chains to hold it back.
Kanoru sees his chance.
He vanishes in a flicker of wind, reappearing above the rhino's neck. His sword slams down, grey energy crackling across the edge. It cuts deep—but only for a breath. Lightning pulses again. The wound seals. The rhino roars in rage.
And again, it targets Kanoru.
And again, he's shielded.
Sometimes by cold mist and holy light. Other times by vines and stone. But always—just in time.
Three titans dance in deadly rhythm. One defends. One binds. One strikes.
And the red thunder roars on.
An hour passes. Kanoru comprehends little, but it's enough—he shapes grey energy into physical weapons, sharpening his strikes. The increase is only ten percent, but even that matters. Every cut he lands runs deeper.
Then, from the horizon, a colossal blue whale phantasm emerges, gliding silently through the clouds. Its pressure sweeps across the sky.
Kanoru senses no hostility. An ally.
The manticore's voice echoes in his mind, steady and clear. *"It's Qin. I heard he connected a hundred elemental runes."*
The rhino senses it too—and changes.
His fury erupts. The red thunder twists violently around him, his strikes turning erratic, brutal. He knows. If he fails to kill or injure any of the three, his bell of death will toll. It already rings—a faint hum beneath the thunder—but the whale's approach turns it louder. If Qin joins the fray, it will scream.
Desperation drives results.
The rhino's claw tears through the manticore's phantasm, shredding it and exposing the true form within. At the last second, as a killing blow descends, Kanoru flashes between them.
The impact crushes the air. Kanoru flies back, blood bursting from his mouth, his breath stolen. He recalls a devouring water blob just to begin healing. Pain stabs deep into his ribs, but he's still standing.
The rhino turns—rips a wing from the pegasus.
It looks fatal. But it's only a phantasm. The real body remains untouched.
Yet violence is not without cost.
A deep, jagged scar now crosses the rhino's front chest—left by the pegasus's counterstrike. And when the manticore's phantasm was destroyed, its real body sank sharp teeth into the rhino's neck. The wounds lie on the phantasm, not the real body, but that changes nothing. To maintain its strength, the rhino must heal them—and that burns energy.
Kanoru steadies himself, just as a deafening shockwave erupts.
Qin arrives—his massive whale form slamming into the red titan like a falling sky.
The rhino stands its ground—then falters.
In raw strength, the rhino can't win. He knows it.
His massive body begins to hum—a low, ominous vibration—and red thunder surges around him like a storm given form. The sky responds, darkening as thick clouds of red lightning gather overhead. Bolts rain down across the battlefield, not focused but scattered, wild, uncontrollable. Each thunderclap splits the air, but their power is dispersed.
Kanoru narrows his eyes. This isn't an attack meant to kill—it's desperation. A final gamble to either survive or drag someone down with him.
"This is it," Kanoru mutters. "His last move."
He and the pegasus brace. Behind them, the manticore raises a barrier of roots and stone, protecting his weakened form. They only need to endure. Wait. Let the storm pass—and the rhino, drained of energy, would be easy to finish.
But Qin doesn't wait.
Energy erupts around him, forming a dark pool of water beneath his feet. From its depths, shadowy chains slither up, each tipped with barbed hooks. With a flick of Qin's hand, the chains shoot forward, aiming straight for the heart of the storm.
They hit the red thunder barrier—and stop. For a moment, they writhe in place, crackling under the force. Then they pierce through.
The chains stab deep into the rhino's phantasm. The red thunder rhino gives one final roar before its form collapses. The phantasm shatters like broken glass, and the red clouds above begin to dissolve. Thunder fades into silence.
Where once stood the beast, now stands the small humanoid rhino, blood leaking from his lips, eyes wild and red with exhaustion.
He growls something in his language.
Kanoru's senses spike. Elemental fluctuations swell violently.
"He's going to self-destruct!" Kanoru shouts, already turning to escape.
Edward and the manticore don't hesitate—they flee, flying fast and far through the thinning clouds.
But no explosion comes.
They turn back, confused—just in time to see the humanoid rhino halfway submerged, his body being dragged into Qin's dark water pool. The surface ripples, then stills.
No roar. No flash. No thunder.
Only silence.
The rhino died under the spell of Qin.
The storm clears. The sky, once rumbling with red thunder, slowly returns to its natural hue. The battlefield quiets.
Kanoru hovers in the sky, bruised and drained but still standing. The manticore lands nearby, his true form revealed—a towering beast with thick fur and golden eyes, his phantasm no longer stable. Not far off, the white pegasus dissolves into mist, revealing a tall man with silver hair and a faint smile—Edward.
Qin cancels his phantasm. The massive blue whale shrinks, folding in on itself until only a small, hovering blue whale remains, its form rippling like mist.
Kanoru approaches with a half-smile. "Impressive, Qin. You finished it."
The manticore grunts. "Yeah. That last attack—you tore right through him."
Edward crosses his arms, nodding. "That storm would've lasted hours. You saved us time and effort."
Qin waves a fin lazily. "You three drained most of his energy. I just pulled the trigger." His voice is calm, deep, but carries quiet gratitude. "If I'd gone alone, it would be difficult to kill him so easily."
Kanoru chuckles. "Still. You made it look easy."
For a moment, the four of them float there in the quiet aftermath, the battlefield scattered with scorched earth and fading traces of red lightning.
Then Kanoru sighs. "I need to check on my people. They'll be worried. And there's still plenty of enemies out there."
Edward nods. "Same. I've got scouts I need to regroup with."
The manticore snorts. "I'm returning to the west ridge. The younger ones need guidance."
They all glance at Qin.
He turns toward the east, where a faint pillar of crimson light rises in the distance—the Sacred Continent. "I'll head toward that blood light. To see if I can destroy it."
Kanoru watches him for a moment, then nods. "Be careful. The Greyrose Circus would deploy more monsters there."
Qin hums. "Exactly why I'm going."
With that, the four part ways.
Kanoru wastes no time. To recover lost energy, he targets enemy stragglers—Spirit Lords, Spirit Realm, even Tier-0—cutting through them like a blade in water. Their deaths fuel his chakra, help restore balance.
Then he returns to the Black Hill region. His army is intact. Morale high. Relief flickers through him, but he doesn't linger.
His thoughts are already on Athia. At home.
He flies fast, carving through clouds and wind. His home had remained untouched during the war, and he'd chosen not to return before. Letters kept him connected. He knew his sister had broken into the Spirit Realm and now stood on the edge of the Spirit Lord's breakthrough.
She is also married and has two children, one son and one daughter.
But the tides have shifted. Reinforcements of the Greyrose Circus are pouring in. Even the last two leaders have come down from wherever they were hiding.
Kanoru doesn't say it aloud.
But he knows this peace won't last.