CHAPTER 1006: HELPLESS FIGHT

Lyrel and Caelthar froze where they stood, their minds unable to process what they were seeing.

"How... how did he do that?" Caelthar asked in disbelief. His voice trembled and his eyes locked on the arrows hanging silently above Krono.

Lyrel’s brows furrowed deeply and her sharp gaze narrowed as if just her focus could solve the mystery before her.

She searched her memory, racing through every scrap of knowledge and every tale of legendary Mages or forbidden rituals.

But no matter how hard she tried nothing fit what she was seeing right now. Nothing even came close.

"I don’t know," she admitted at last, her voice clipped with frustration. "He doesn’t look like he’s using any powerful elemental Magic or even a forbidden spell. There’s no ripple in the air, distortion, or flare of energy. It’s... it’s as if the arrows are just frozen in time itself."

"Frozen in time?" Caelthar repeated, incredulous, his lips parting as his eyes stayed glued to the sight. "Are you saying that man can actually control time?"

"I said I don’t know!" Lyrel snapped with irritation. Not at him but at her own confusion clawing at her brain.

She prided herself on knowing the theories of Magic and being able to see the patterns behind power. But this was beyond her.

While they wrestled with their disbelief, the battle in front of them roared forward.

Eccar had already closed the gap between himself and Dorrak in an instant.

The village chief’s body bulged with the unnatural strength of his forbidden Magic and his aura whipping like a black storm around him.

With each breath he shouted like a beast, swinging with wild ferocity.

His fists crashed down at Eccar with incredible force and his legs kicking out with vicious force.

Eccar met him head on. He did not weave or dance and just simply stepped into the storm with calm precision.

When Dorrak’s fist came down at him Eccar lifted an arm and blocked it with effortless ease.

The impact shook the ground, dust rising in a cloud, but Eccar stood unmoved. His smirk never gone from his face.

"HRAAAAAHHH!"

Dorrak roared and lashed out again and again. His kicks tore through the air, his punches flew in relentless succession, his entire body thrashing in desperation and rage.

But his every attack was met by Eccar’s calm and effortless defense.

He raised a forearm to block, ducked low under a sweeping kick and changed his stance as though he had all the time in the world.

The more Dorrak attacked, the more hopeless it became.

With a sudden brutal move, Eccar caught Dorrak’s arm in the middle of his swing.

His grip tightened and a second later the bone snapped like dry wood.

"AAAAAAAARRGH!!!"

Dorrak screamed, his voice echoing across the village, but Eccar was not done.

He moved again and drove his knee into Dorrak’s leg with a sharp crack.

"AAARRGHHH!!!"

Another scream tore from the chief’s throat as his body buckled.

He was still flailing and trying to fight back. He swung his remaining arm with savage force.

But Eccar caught that too then breaking it with the same terrifying ease.

One by one, limb after limb, Eccar dismantled him until the once-proud leader was nothing more than a broken figure thrashing helplessly in the dirt.

Dorrak still let out a guttural cry of rage and pain but his body no longer obeyed his instinct.

He lay there while writhing, his forbidden power raging through him but unable to lift him from the ground. Every time he regenerated, Eccar broke his limbs again and again.

The villagers could only stare in disbelief as their mighty chief who had ruled them with iron strength and never once tasted defeat lay broken in the dirt, thrashing like a wounded beast in pathetic manner.

For a long moment, silence hung in the air, thick with shock.

Then anger erupted like wildfire. Shouts rang out fueled by rage and fear and the people surged forward to Eccar with weapons in hand.

They attacked with their swords, spears, daggers, halberd, etc.

Those with knowledge of Magic raised their hands and conjured bolts of flame, jagged shards of ice, and streaks of lightning.

But he did not flinch.

The first sword came down at his head and he moved faster than the eye could follow, stepping aside and hit the attacker’s chest with the back of his hand.

The villager flew backward, landing in the dirt and gasping for air but he was still alive.

A spear darted toward his side and Eccar dogde, seized the shaft, and snapped it in two before shoving the wielder away with a single kick.

Magic exploded around him again but when the smoke cleared, Eccar stood unscathed.

His scales shimmered faintly beneath his skin, absorbing everything they could throw at him.

He stepped forward casually and launch his own attack. One punch to the gut sent a man sprawling. A palm strike to the chest dropped another man. A sweep of his leg toppled three more who had dared to charge at once.

It was not a battle but it was a massacre of pride. He never killed them but just struck them once and each opponent collapsed, groaning in pain, and unable to rise.

In less than a minute, the dirt ground of the village was littered with bodies. Their weapons scattered and their Magic fizzled out.

Eccar stood in the center of it all with a smile on his face. His arms loose at his sides as though he had merely swatted away insects.

The villagers still conscious stared at him in a mix of horror and despair. Their faith in their chief’s strength shattered and their hope drained dry.

At that moment, Krono walked forward from the edge of the field.

His presence was calm but also felt heavy, each step echoing against the silence now choking the village.

Behind him, the arrows that had hung in the air all this time finally fell and stabbed the ground in a chorus of steel.

Krono’s golden eyes swept over the battered villagers.

"Now... will you talk?" He paused. "Or do you still wish to throw yourselves into a fight you cannot win?"

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