Unmade Chapter 31: Chapter 31: Desperation

Read chapter 31 of Unmade by churro on NovelPedia.

Beneath the five black suns, two figures stood facing one another across the endless sea of blood. One was a towering man clad in shattered black metallic armor. Half of his chest and his entire upper right arm were exposed, his skin marred with wounds both ancient and fresh. He held a long, thick spear raised above his head in a stance that defied conventional combat forms, a strange posture, unreadable, and yet undeniably lethal. Opposite him stood Vale, his feet anchored on the rippling surface of the bloody sea. His stance was low, guarded, his blade held at his side and angled upward, ready to intercept or strike. His armor was in ruins, sliced open, dented, and stained with too many wounds delivered by the chained man throughout their relentless duel. Every breath he drew was ragged and painful, hoarse enough that it sounded like his lungs were tearing apart with each inhale. His internal organs were damaged. His bones trembled. Yet he forced his body to stand. He forced it to obey. Because this battle wasn’t over. Not until one of them fell. Vale’s eyes burned with unwavering resolve, though the chained man’s expression remained forever hidden behind the obsidian mask marked with a single golden sun. Vale had never seen the man’s real face. It didn’t matter. At this moment, nothing mattered except survival. No… more than survival. Victory. Vale gritted his teeth and narrowed his eyes. Beneath the surface of the blood-red sea, his foot shifted ever so slightly, a tiny adjustment, but one his opponent would surely notice. Even so, Vale couldn’t afford hesitation. Not now. A thin stream of blood escaped the corner of his mouth, trickling down his chin. He didn’t notice. He didn’t care. The drop fell in slow motion, or at least, it felt that way, stretching the moment into an eternity as it inched toward the ocean below. When it finally met the sea, the world snapped forward. Vale moved. He launched himself with terrifying speed, slicing across the bloody surface like a phantom. At the exact same moment, the chained man surged forward as well, the blades embedded in his back rattling violently with each step. Dozens of meters separated them. It took them less than a second to cross it. Both had long since transcended human limits. Vale had clawed his way to this level through death after death, killed repeatedly by the chained man only to rise again, his skills sharpened each time. He studied every book the chained man gave him. He trained his body until it broke, then trained it again. He stretched his flexibility, refined his reactions, strengthened his mind. And in that instant, as they closed in on each other, Vale felt something curious swell in his chest. A smile. A small, grateful smile. He realized, if only for a fleeting heartbeat, that the chained man might have cared for him in his own brutal, monstrous way. But sentiment wouldn’t win this fight. Vale couldn’t lose. He wouldn’t. Not if he ever hoped to return to the real world. They closed in. Vale adjusted his grip, switching his blade to his left hand. He saw the chained man shift, the spear poised to thrust toward Vale’s exposed right arm. A perfect opportunity to counterattack. Vale knew his metallic right arm wouldn’t break from a simple stab, he could use that moment to strike back using his left. A faint grin tugged at his lips. But then, The spear moved. Not forward. Not sideways. No, it twisted in a way that defied reality itself, bending space around it like a puppet tugging on invisible threads. In an instant, its trajectory shifted, impossibly and instead angled straight toward Vale’s left arm. The arm holding his sword. Vale’s eyes widened in horror. He couldn’t stop. He was far too close. There was no dodging, no retreat, no plausible escape. He met the chained man’s masked gaze as the spear struck him, his earlier resolve flashing violently across his pale eyes. Then came the pain. White-hot. Soul-deep. The spear drove into his flesh, tearing throu