Solo Cultivating in Superhero Academy
Chapter 148: Keith’s improvement
CHAPTER 148: KEITH’S IMPROVEMENT
The moment the words "Now it’s time to get serious" left Elius’s lips, the very fabric of the battlefield shifted.
A crushing stillness fell over everything. The crackling of residual lightning from Zhark’s fists dimmed into silence. Fraven’s telekinetic hold trembled as if the pressure around it was being squeezed by an invisible force. Shania’s illusions flickered and bent at the edges, as though even the light itself no longer trusted what it was seeing.
And then the swords moved.
No warning. No burst of power. Just a ripple of motion—so fluid, so terrifyingly graceful—that even time seemed caught off guard.
The five swords spun from behind Elius’s back like serpents slithering out from a den. Not slow. Not fast. Just inevitable. Each one gleamed with spiritual energy far sharper than before—no longer fractured by his exhaustion, no longer dulled by the aftereffects of the soul switch. Their edges curved with elegance and horror, like scythes of a forgotten executioner, their tips drawn not toward Zhark or Shania or Fraven...
...but Keith.
Elius’s eyes locked on him, and in them, Keith saw something ancient. Something cold. Something final.
The first sword came low—blazing toward Keith’s knee with a scream of condensed air. Keith barely brought his leg up in time, a crack of impact sending him skidding ten meters backward across the ruined stone floor. Sparks rained from the strike, but he didn’t fall.
The second sword curved around from behind—aiming directly for Fraven’s head. But Keith spun, faster than a man should, and slapped the blade aside with a backhand reinforced with solarion gold aura. His arm trembled from the shock, bones rattling from the sheer force of it—but he endured.
"Fraven! Shania! Zhark!" he barked. "Fall back! I’ll hold him!"
"You’ll what?" Zhark shouted, thunder sparking again in his palms. "Are you insane—!?"
Keith didn’t answer. The third sword was already shrieking toward Shania’s position, angled like a bolt of divine punishment meant to cleave her in half. She screamed, too slow to dodge, her hands glowing as she tried to summon a wall of illusion.
But she didn’t need to.
Keith was there.
He wasn’t supposed to be fast enough.
He wasn’t supposed to be strong enough.
But he was.
His body blurred as he intercepted the blade mid-air, grabbing it with both hands, bare-handed. solarion gold aura erupted from his palms as the blade screamed and hissed, burning into his flesh like molten steel—but he held on. Blood dripped from his hands. The sword vibrated violently, trying to escape.
Keith twisted.
And threw it.
It spun end over end, crashing into a distant stone pillar and embedding deep in the rock.
Shania gasped, falling to her knees. "Keith..."
But Keith didn’t look back. The fourth sword was incoming—this one aimed not at a vital point, but at his shoulder. A feint?
He ducked low, letting it skim just past his ear—and then the fifth sword came from above, a vertical strike meant to cleave his skull in two.
Keith lifted both arms, crossed them.
CLANG!!!
The sword slammed down with such force that the ground beneath him cracked in a wide spider web of fissures. He dropped to one knee, arms shaking, elbows numb. His solarion gold aura armor sizzled and warped from the impact, but he gritted his teeth and stood back up.
Then—
All five swords hovered in a circle around Elius, now glowing brighter than ever, spinning like a hurricane of death.
Elius stepped forward. His smile was gone. His eyes narrowed.
"I see," he murmured. "You’re not just stalling anymore."
Keith’s lips bled. His arms were sliced in several places. One knee was beginning to give out. But his eyes blazed with unshakable fire.
"You won’t lay a finger on them," he said.
"Oh, won’t I?" Elius raised his hand. The swords spun faster, forming concentric rings of death.
And then—
They launched.
All at once.
Five blurs of death. Five lines of solarion gold aura-blade destruction. Each one perfectly angled to strike a different vital point, arcing in patterns only Elius himself could have devised.
Keith moved.
But not away.
Forward.
He charged into the heart of the formation. Hands open. Body screaming. Blood flying. And each time a sword neared someone—he was there.
One he kicked out of the air with a flying spin that should have shattered his leg.
Another he caught and redirected with a shoulder check that split his shirt down the middle.
The third blade punctured his side, but only shallowly—because he grabbed the hilt and shoved it sideways, twisting it out of trajectory.
The fourth—he punched. Punched so hard the flat of the blade bent mid-flight and veered off-course.
The fifth came last.
Elius controlled it manually—his finger guiding its aim with surgical precision, driving it straight toward Zhark’s exposed back as the thunder-user prepared another lightning barrage.
Keith howled.
He roared.
And then he appeared between Zhark and the blade, letting it slam into his own chest.
SHHHHHINK!
The sword buried itself halfway into his torso. Blood spurted. Keith’s eyes rolled—but he stayed upright, holding the blade by the hilt with both hands even as his legs buckled.
Shania screamed.
Fraven shouted something incoherent.
Zhark turned in horror.
Elius, for a moment, looked... stunned.
But Keith grinned. His teeth were red. His lips trembling.
His body was torn. His solarion gold aura exhausted. His lungs probably punctured.
And yet—he smiled.
"I told you," he rasped. "You’re not laying a finger on them."
Elius tilted his head.
The five swords floated back into the air—blood-stained, gleaming, now circling Elius once more like an imperial crown.
"You’ve changed," Elius said softly. "You weren’t like this before."
Keith coughed once, then looked up through bloodied eyes.
"I had to change," he said. "Because of you."
A pause.
Elius’s eyes narrowed slightly. Not with anger. Not with contempt.
With thought.
He watched Keith stand tall, despite the blade still lodged in his chest.
And then, slowly, Elius smiled again.
It was not the cold, condescending smirk of a predator. Not the cruel grin of a sadist toying with weaker prey.
It was a small, genuine smile.
A flicker of something ancient and buried.
"It seems you’ve learned a lot," Elius said.
Keith nodded.
"It’s thanks to you," he said. "Older brother."