Gunmage-Chapter 26: The blade unseen

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Lugh stumbled forward, vision splitting between two worlds. Each movement was disorienting, a chaotic dance between conflicting perceptions.

The battlefield twisted and warped in his sight—shadows stretched unnaturally, figures flickered between existence and nothingness, and depth itself seemed to shift unpredictably.

His movements were unsteady, but he had already closed the gap.

His opponent, the towering knight, did not hesitate. It moved like an executioner, its every strike a sentence of death.

The blade attack came fast and heavy. It was a brutal diagonal slash, aiming to split Lugh into two uneven halves. The moment he recognized the real strike among the countless ghostly projections, he twisted his body and rolled left.

The force of the swing cut through the air with a high-pitched wail, missing his ear by a hair's breadth. But the world spun as he landed, his equilibrium shattered. His skull felt as if it were splitting apart, the two realities warring within him.

A breath. A half-second to gather himself.

Then another attack came from behind. Lugh felt his head detach from his body, then he fearfully ducked down.

The enchanted blade slashed, slicing strands of his black hair. The near-miss sent a chill through his spine, but he had no time to dwell on it—another threat was fast approaching.

Lyra.

Her body no longer obeyed reason. Her hair, formerly cropped short for practicality, had now become a writhing, bladed mass, lashing out like a swarm of vipers.

Each strand moved independently, stabbing, slicing, seeking blood.

The lieutenant, Dain, barely held his ground against them. His enchanted dagger clashed against the living weapon, sparks flying as he deflected the onslaught. The force behind each impact sent shockwaves up his arms, rattling his already fractured bones.

She was losing herself.

Her expression, once disciplined and sharp, had contorted into something primal—twisted lips, wild eyes, a grotesque snarl of desperation and rage. This was something Lugh had never seen before, this was magic corrupting the body, untethering it from the mind.

Dain cursed between gritted teeth, his voice barely carrying over the chaos.

"Kid, whatever you're doing—finish it. Now!"

Lugh sidestepped another strike from the knight, his mind racing. His gaze flicked toward its belt—a holster. A weapon.

An opening.

A horizontal slash and Lugh slid under, his small frame replicating the lieutenant's earlier movements with surprising ease.

He lunged, yanking away the knight's sidearm, but when his fingers closed around the object, confusion gripped him.

It was empty.

Or rather, it seemed empty.

Through his left eye, he saw only an ordinary, vacant sheath. But through his right—the eye that now bore the burden of another sight—he saw something else. A dagger. A pristine, bluish blade, glowing faintly, its edge humming with an eerie presence.

His breathing slowed.

Lugh's fingers hesitated for only a moment before closing around the hilt. A cold shudder ran through his body the instant he touched it, an unnatural chill seeping into his bones. It was unlike anything he had ever felt—like grasping the void itself.

To the others, it looked like he was holding nothing but air.

Aldric's voice cracked through the battlefield.

"Lugh, what the hell are you doing?!"

Lugh ignored him. He had no time to explain.

The knight reacted immediately. A suffocating pressure filled the air as its grip tightened on its longsword. Then, with terrifying speed, it swung. The sheer force obliterated everything in its path. The ground split. Air warped.

Lyra let out a strangled cry as she spat blood, her body recoiling from the pressure. The sheer weight of its existence bore down upon them all.

The knight vanished once more, its shadow flickered, and in the next moment, it was upon Lugh.

Both hands gripped its longsword, the enchanted blade swinging down like a guillotine, aiming to end him in one swift, brutal strike.

But Lugh had already acted. The invisible blade in his hand descended, plunging deep into the knight's shadow.

The effect was instant.

The knight froze before jolting violently, staggering back as if something had pierced its very existence.

Lugh didn't hesitate. He twisted the dagger and ripped it through the shadow, dragging the wound wider and deeper.

His two eyes—one white, one black, both with red pupils—glowered with unhinged madness.

Lyra, still caught in her battle trance, did not stop. Her hair lashed forward, cocooning around the knight, tightening like a burial shroud. It fell to one knee, struggling against its bindings.

Even in its final moments, its presence remained indomitable.

The knight inhaled, then with sheer force of will, reversed its grip on its longsword. Its entire body coiled like a bowstring, muscles straining as it prepared its final act.

It hurled the weapon.

Not at Lugh.

At Lyra.

The air screamed as the longsword tore through space, spinning like a harbinger of doom.

Lyra moved—but she was too slow.

The blade slammed through her shoulder, pinning her to the ground. The force of impact sending shockwaves through her body. She let out a broken scream.

The pain. The agony.

Her mind, once spiraling into oblivion, was dragged back into brutal, unforgiving clarity.

Her magic stuttered, flickering out of control. The hair that had once bound the knight loosened, unraveling into lifeless strands.

The knight, still kneeling, let out a final breath. Its voice, deep and inhuman, echoed across the battlefield.

"Weakness shall not go unpunished."

Then, silence.

The knight did not move again.

Aldric collapsed to his knees, breathless. His fingers trembled, his mind struggling to process the madness that had unfolded before him.

"Is it... is it over?"

No one answered.

Dain stared at the fallen knight with soulless eyes. Emil hadn't stopped shaking. And Lyra—Lyra was still pinned to the ground, her body wracked with pain.

Lugh exhaled, the tension in his shoulders not fading. He took a step forward, and felt himself fall.

"What the—"

Then, the world cracked.

A deep, ominous sound echoed beneath them—a rupture in reality itself.

Lugh looked down, there was no floor.

The ground, once solid beneath his feet, had vanished into an endless abyss.

His next step met nothing but empty air.

He fell.

The others fell with him.

Weightlessness consumed them, the battlefield disappearing above as they plummeted into the void.