THE HEADLESS ENIGMA

CHAPTER 45

[AT THE EASTERN WOODLAND SECTOR...]

The headless body of Lord Aerror Of The Fallen remained upright as The Plague charged toward it. However, just before the Behemoth could close the remaining distance, Aerror raised his arm and began moving it in a controlled circular motion. The gesture was deliberate and measured, as though he were commanding something far beyond the reach of his immediate surroundings.

Above them, the dark, murky clouds began to shift.

The thick mass of clouds that had gathered over the woodland slowly rotated, forming a vast spiral that expanded across the sky. Powerful winds swept through the surrounding area as the vortex continued to take shape. The force of the circulating air bent the nearby trees and sent loose debris spiralling across the ground, while the clouds above grew increasingly turbulent.

The Plague noticed the change immediately.

Rather than retreating, he became visibly excited. The prospect of facing an opponent capable of such control only seemed to heighten his enthusiasm. He leaned forward and accelerated toward Aerror, determined to close the distance before whatever the Unknown-Class was preparing could fully manifest.

Then the clouds split with a deafening crack.

A powerful bolt of lightning descended from the spiralling vortex, striking directly toward The Plague. The Behemoth reacted at the last possible moment, throwing himself sideways as the bolt tore through the ground beside him. He avoided the strike by the narrowest of margins, the force of its impact sending a violent shockwave across the surrounding terrain.

The Plague regained his footing almost immediately.

"Now we're talking!"

His excitement had not diminished. If anything, the display had only encouraged him to press forward. He changed direction and attempted another approach, moving at a speed that blurred his form. However, Aerror's arm continued its slow, circular motion, seemingly unaffected by the Plague's movements.

The intensity of the vortex increased.

Another bolt of lightning descended from the clouds, followed by a second and then a third. Each strike targeted The Plague's position, forcing him to alter his course repeatedly. The lightning struck the earth with tremendous force, leaving deep craters in its wake and scattering debris across the woodland.

The Plague evaded each strike through a combination of speed and precise movement. His figure blurred across the battlefield as he weaved between the descending bolts, constantly searching for an opening that would allow him to reach Aerror.

But every attempt brought another strike.

The closer he tried to get, the more violent the lightning became. The intervals between the attacks continued to shrink, leaving him with less time to react. What had initially been a single, narrowly avoided strike had become a sustained barrage, with each successive bolt threatening to cut off his approach.

Despite the destruction surrounding them, Aerror's headless body remained stationary. His arm continued moving in the same controlled circular pattern, directing the storm above him without any apparent urgency.

The Plague was beginning to understand the problem.

This was not simply an indiscriminate discharge of lightning. The strikes were interfering with his movements, preventing him from closing the distance. Every time he attempted to advance, the storm responded by increasing the pressure.

He was being kept at bay.

"Is it just me, or did his divine energy levels just get higher?" The Plague wondered as he narrowly avoided another bolt. "He also has absolute mastery over the elements. It almost feels like I'm fighting a god or something."

He landed on a relatively undamaged section of ground, briefly assessing the situation before moving again. His gaze remained fixed on Aerror's motionless body.

"Come to think of it, he has never initiated a Release. Not even once."

The realization gave him pause.

Throughout their confrontation, Aerror had relied on his physical abilities, his blade, his blue flames, and the strange manipulation of reality that allowed him to move in ways ordinary beings could not. Now, even without a head, he was controlling the storm above them with an apparent degree of precision.

Yet he had still not initiated a Release.

The Plague understood that the distinction mattered. Whatever Aerror was doing, it did not appear to be the full extent of his abilities.

Another bolt struck the ground nearby, forcing The Plague to move before he could consider the implications any further.

His own Release remained an option. Under ordinary circumstances, activating it would give him access to a far more devastating long-range attack, allowing him to engage Aerror without having to cross the distance separating them.

But Thanatros was not an ability he could unleash carelessly.

The consequences would extend far beyond his opponent. If he initiated his Release in the middle of the woodland, the resulting deterioration could spread across the surrounding environment, leaving destruction on a scale that would be difficult, if not impossible, to reverse.

There might not even be anything left to repair.

For now, The Plague had to rely on his speed and continue searching for an opening. However, with every passing moment, the storm grew more violent, and Aerror's circular movements remained as controlled as ever.

The Plague was fast enough to evade the lightning.

But he was finding it increasingly difficult to advance.

And for the first time since the battle began, the Behemoth of the Eighth was being forced to fight entirely on his opponent's terms.

[AT THE NORTHERN MOUNTAIN RANGES...]

Far from the Eastern Woodland Sector, another confrontation was unfolding among the Northern Mountain Ranges.

The surrounding peaks stood beneath a turbulent sky, their slopes marked by the disturbances left behind by the earlier clash. At the center of the confrontation stood Agent Lynx, whose remaining divine energy had already been strained by the summoning of his Ancient Art.

Before him hovered The Darr, Lord of the Skies.

The colossal feathered serpent spread its enormous wings, maintaining its position above the mountain terrain. Its vast presence dominated the surrounding air, while its gaze remained fixed on the mysterious child standing in its path.

Neither side had withdrawn.

Lynx knew the danger of the situation. His reserves had been heavily depleted, and the contract sustaining The Darr remained his most important advantage. Without it, he would have little chance of surviving a direct confrontation with the Unknown-Class.

The Darr, however, had already made its decision.

The child standing before them was no ordinary practitioner. There was something about his presence that reached beyond the boundaries of the Ancient Arts, something even the Lord of the Skies could not fully identify.

And yet, the Darr had declared that Lynx was under its protection.

The child had challenged that declaration.

Now, with the mountain winds sweeping between them, the confrontation was about to escalate.