Chapter 368: Red death!!

The EDF fleet carved through Sirius Prime’s atmosphere like falling hammers, their hulls screaming against the frozen air. Commander Stones’ voice crackled through every comm channel, raw with fury.

"All ships, commence orbital bombardment. Target coordinates locked. Show this bastard what happens when you mess with Earth Defense Force."

The sky exploded.

Plasma cannons, particle beams, and kinetic rounds hammered down in a relentless barrage. Each blast shook the ground beneath Noah’s feet, turning the frozen wasteland into a hellscape of steam and molten rock. The bombardment was surgical in its intensity—five solid minutes of concentrated firepower that left the air itself burning.

Noah pressed against Lucas’s electrical barrier, watching the destruction through crackling energy. His knuckles were white around Excaliburn’s hilt, rage coiled tight in his chest like a spring.

"Come on," Noah whispered through gritted teeth. "Stay down."

But even as he said it, he knew better. Harbingers didn’t stay down.

The bombardment stopped. For a moment, there was only the hiss of superheated air and the distant crack of cooling stone. Smoke rose from a perfect crater where Kruel had been standing.

Then the ground trembled.

It started small—a vibration that could have been an aftershock. But it built, growing stronger, deeper, until the very bones of the planet seemed to groan. Cracks spread across the frozen surface like a spider’s web.

That’s when they heard it.

Laughter.

Rich, delighted laughter that echoed across the wasteland. Through the smoke and debris, something moved—not climbing out of the crater, but shooting straight up like a rocket.

The shockwave from Kruel’s leap split the ground in every direction. Noah felt the ice shift beneath his feet, heard the distant rumble of avalanches in the far mountains. The Harbinger’s ascent tore through the atmosphere, his trajectory carrying him toward the fleet hanging in the sky.

"He’s going for the ships," Lucas breathed, his face pale.

What followed was systematic destruction.

Kruel reached the first dreadnought and his fists punched through its hull like paper. He moved from ship to ship with brutal efficiency, each leap carrying him through vacuum while the fleet burned around him. Within minutes, the sky was full of falling debris and escape pods.

"Pathfinder Team 7, this is Lyra." Her voice was tight with barely controlled panic. "We’re alive, but we lost half the crew getting off the ships."

"Copy," Noah replied, his voice cold as space. "Get to the rally point."

Kruel descended like a falling star, landing with casual grace on the frozen ground. The fourth horn on his forehead gleamed dully, and his damaged eye had healed to a scarred mess. The Harbinger looked around at the devastation and smiled.

"Impressive fireworks," he said, brushing dust from his shoulders. "Though I’ve seen better."

Cassandra limped over, her face grim. Blood stained her uniform, and her left arm hung useless at her side. "You see that ice around Storm?"

Noah followed her gaze. The ice cocoon pulsed with internal lightning, like a heartbeat made of electricity.

"He’s healing himself," Noah realized. "The ice is keeping him stable."

"Good." Cassandra’s eyes never left Kruel. "Listen carefully. I heard you could transport thousands into your domain. Can you do that here?"

Noah shook his head. "Not scattered like this. Everyone would need to be grouped together." He paused, his grip tightening on Excaliburn. "And I don’t want to run."

Cassandra studied his face. When she spoke, her voice was barely a whisper. "That one there is different. Far different from the others. You’ve put down a two horn before. And it was not the same with the first one you encountered on Cannadah. Three-horns are still in the realm manageable. We lose people, but with coordination and luck, we can put them down. But this?" She gestured toward Kruel. "This is a four-horn. I’ve only seen two others in my entire career."

She leaned closer. "Humanity has killed exactly two four-horns in our history. Both times, the Supreme General was on the field personally."

"How many?" Noah asked.

"Two. Out of maybe a dozen encounters." Her voice was hollow. "If we stay here, we all die."

Noah felt the weight of her words, but his jaw only set harder. "If we run, he hits another world. Another family like mine." He met her eyes. "Take whoever wants to leave. But some of us are staying."

Cassandra was quiet for a long moment. Then she straightened, her voice carrying across the battlefield. "All personnel not part of Pathfinder Team 7, fall back three hundred kilometers. Establish a perimeter."

She turned back to Noah, and something twisted in her chest. Here she was, telling a nineteen-year-old to fight a monster that had killed hundreds of seasoned soldiers. Here she was, about to hand him a weapon that could crack planets.

But looking at his face—at the cold fury there, the absolute determination—she knew he’d fight with or without her blessing. At least this way, he’d have a chance.

She reached into her gear and pulled out a small briefcase marked with the EDF insignia. "The combination is 7-7-4-1."

Noah’s eyes widened as he recognized what she was giving him.

"I know," she said quietly. "I know how this looks. But you’re the only one here fast enough to get close, and that blade of yours..." She paused, thinking of all the Harbingers that sword had killed. "It’s our only real weapon against him."

Part of her wanted to stay. Part of her burned with the same rage she saw in Noah’s eyes, wanted to fight this bastard herself despite her injuries. But she was a soldier, and soldiers made hard choices.

"It’s been an honor, Pathfinder," she said, stepping back. "Give him hell."

As the retreat began, Noah felt the weight of the briefcase in his hands. A planet-buster. The ultimate last resort. He looked at Kruel, who was watching the evacuation with amusement.

"How touching," the Harbinger said. "As you humans would say, "The little lambs think they can hurt the wolf," "

Noah didn’t answer. Instead, he reached out through his bond with Nyx, feeling the dragon’s rage burning like a furnace in his mind. The Red Death was within his mist, waiting, ready, every instinct screaming for violence.

’Now,’

He didn’t have to repeat himself a second time.

Nyx erupted from the red mist like a living nightmare.

The dragon was magnificent in his fury—scales gleaming like molten metal, slit for eyes burning with red hot hate. His roar shook the air as he descended on Kruel, but this wasn’t wild desperation. This was calculated violence, refined by pure instincts.

Kruel’s smile widened as he met the charge. His fist came up to intercept Nyx’s descending claws, the impact sending shockwaves through the frozen ground. For a moment, they were locked together—dragon and Harbinger, fury against fury.

"Finally," Kruel breathed, his voice thick with anticipation. "Something interesting."

Nyx twisted, his massive tail whipping around in a devastating arc. Kruel ducked, his hands reaching for the dragon’s throat. But Nyx had been fighting Harbingers before Kruel. Hell, his first exposure outside the domain, he dropped Harbinger bodies, left and right—he knew every trick.

The dragon’s head snapped forward, his jaws closing on Kruel’s outstretched arm. Teeth that could crush stone found purchase in the Harbinger’s flesh. Black blood streamed down Kruel’s limb as he tried to shake the dragon loose.

"Persistent," Kruel snarled, his free hand driving into Nyx’s ribs. The blow lifted the dragon off his feet, but Nyx held on, his jaws working deeper. "But ultimately futile."

They separated, both breathing hard. Kruel’s arm was mangled, bone visible through torn flesh. Nyx’s ribs were cracked, his movements slightly labored. But neither gave ground.

"You heal fast," Kruel said, watching the dragon’s wounds knit themselves back together. "Let’s see how fast."

And just like that, Nyx opened his mouth and released a blast.

The dragon’s Inferno Storm turned the air to plasma, a concentrated blast of heat that could melt through starship hulls. Kruel walked through it, his skin blistering and charring. His face contorted in pain and determination as he reached for Nyx’s throat.

That’s when Lucas struck.

The young soldier had been circling above, reading the flow of battle. Joining in too soon would have him crippled by either one of the behemoths. He saw his opening when Kruel was focused on Nyx, when the Harbinger’s attention was entirely on the dragon trying to incinerate him.

Lucas twisted his body as he fell, angling his descent to maximize impact. Lightning coiled around his form like living armor, electrical energy building to a crescendo. His leg came down in a perfect axe kick, every muscle fiber aligned for maximum transfer of force.

The kick caught Kruel in the base of the skull with the sound of breaking stone. The Harbinger’s head snapped forward, his grip on Nyx loosening as electrical discharge coursed through his nervous system.

Lucas hit the ground in a combat roll, already moving as he channeled more power. His hands came up, fingers spread wide, and lightning erupted in a focused beam that caught Kruel center mass.

The electrical attack actually staggered the Harbinger. For a moment, he looked genuinely surprised, smoke rising from his scorched chest.

"Coordinated," Kruel noted, his voice carrying grudging respect. "Better than the usual rabble."

His counterattack was swift and brutal. A double-handed strike that folded Lucas around his fists, ribs cracking under the impact. The young soldier’s breath left him in a rush as he was launched across the battlefield.

But the distraction had given Nyx the opening he needed. The dragon’s Magma Bomb attack filled the air with superheated projectiles, each one exploding on impact. The barrage was devastating, overwhelming even Kruel’s enhanced durability.

The Harbinger’s roar of pain shook the ground. His skin was a patchwork of burns and blisters, his healing factor struggling to keep up. But instead of retreating, he pressed forward, seeking to end this quickly.

He and Nyx grappled in the crater, two titans locked in brutal combat. The dragon’s tail lashed out, its spiked tip catching Kruel under the chin. The Harbinger’s head snapped back, his own strike going wide.

"Enough games," Kruel snarled, his hands finding purchase on Nyx’s throat. "Time to finish this."

That’s when Noah struck.

He had been circling like a predator, Excaliburn held in a reverse grip, waiting for the perfect moment. Much like Lucas, he couldn’t get in between them just like that. He saw his moment when Kruel lifted Nyx off the ground—the Harbinger’s guard was down, his attention focused on the dragon in his grasp.

Noah’s blade cut through the air like a whisper of death, the void-wreathed edge aimed at the joint where Kruel’s neck met his shoulder. The Harbinger’s eyes widened as he caught the movement in his peripheral vision.

"The Black Death," he breathed, recognizing the weapon instantly. Every Harbinger knew that blade—the sword that left wounds that never healed, that could end their kind permanently.

Kruel released Nyx, throwing himself backward. The void-edged blade missed his throat by inches, but Noah was already flowing into his next attack. His footwork was precise, economical, each step calculated to maintain optimal range and angle.

Excaliburn reversed direction in a rising cut that would have opened Kruel from hip to shoulder. The Harbinger twisted away, the blade’s edge actually touching his skin for a split second.

Where the void energy made contact, Kruel’s flesh began to dissolve. Not burn, not cut—dissolve, as if reality itself rejected his existence. The Harbinger’s face twisted with pain and something that might have been fear.

"You cannot touch me with that," he growled, his voice carrying genuine desperation. "I won’t allow it."

The three-way battle intensified. Noah and Lucas moved with coordination, their attacks timed to perfection. When Kruel dodged left to avoid Excaliburn, Lucas was there with a lightning strike that forced the Harbinger to dodge right—directly into Noah’s follow-up.

But Kruel was adapting, learning their patterns. His fist lashed out, catching Lucas in the ribs and sending him flying. The distraction cost him though—Noah’s blade came closer than ever before he recovered just narrowly enough to avoid being decapitated.

"Persistent little insects," Kruel snarled, his movements becoming more desperate. "But you’re only delaying the inevitable."

He had forgotten about Nyx.

The Red Death Dragon had been circling, waiting, his predator’s instincts tracking every movement. He saw his moment when Kruel was entirely focused on Noah’s blade, when all the Harbinger’s attention was on the weapon that could end him.

Nyx’s body began to glow with internal fire. This wasn’t just his regular flame—this was his Primordial Molten Fusion, the one ultimate ability he’d unlocked. Much like storm who had evolved alongside Noah, Nyx now had a new trick up his hide.

Every scale became superheated, every breath turned to plasma. The dragon’s form blazed like a living star as he prepared to unleash everything he had.

The air around him began to warp and shimmer. The ground beneath his feet turned to glass from the radiant heat. This was it—the attack that would end everything, one way or another.

Kruel looked up just as Nyx’s breath reached its crescendo, and for the first time since his evolution, genuine fear flickered across the Harbinger’s features.

"..."