Chapter 114: Puny humans

Atlas threw his hands down, dragging a ridge of earth upward to slow the ihe. The ground rumbled and split, stone and hardened sand rising in a jagged wall between them and the creature. It was a desperate move, buying them seconds at most, but seconds were all they had.

The ihe cleared the obstacle effortlessly, skidding across the surface with terrifying speed. Its claws dug into the stone as it vaulted over the barrier, tail whipping behind it for balance. The creature’s movements were fluid, almost graceful, as if the laws of physics bent slightly in its favor. It landed on the other side without breaking stride, eyes still locked on its prey.

Ken counterattacked, shadows lashing out like spears, wrapping around the ihe’s limbs. The darkness coiled tight, binding the creature’s arms and legs, constricting with enough force to crush steel. For a moment, it held. The ihe’s advance stopped, its body locked in place by the shadowy restraints. Ken’s face was tense with concentration, sweat dripping down his forehead as he poured more energy into the attack.

Then the creature flexed, sheer strength tearing through the darkness as if it were smoke. The shadows shredded apart, dissipating into wisps that faded into nothing. The ihe didn’t even look strained. It simply moved forward again, as if Ken’s attack had been nothing more than an inconvenience.

Ken cursed under his breath, already repositioning. He couldn’t afford to stay still. The ihe was too fast, too powerful. Every instinct he had screamed at him to run, but he couldn’t. Not with Atlas here. Not when retreat would mean certain death for both of them.

Ken stayed moving, shadows folding and unfolding around him, blocking strikes that came too fast to track. The ihe’s claws slashed through the air, each swipe precise and lethal. Ken’s shadows intercepted them, hardening into barriers that absorbed the blows, but each impact sent shockwaves through his body. He could feel the strain building, his energy reserves draining with every second. Each exchange drove him further on the defensive. There was no opening to counterattack. No moment where the creature left itself vulnerable. It was relentless, methodical, and impossibly strong.

The ihe adapted, its reactions flawless, tail whipping around Ken’s guard and slamming into Atlas. The strike came from an angle Ken couldn’t see, couldn’t block. The thick, muscular tail hit Atlas like a battering ram, lifting him off his feet and hurling him backward.

Atlas crashed into the ground, breath knocked from his chest, blood running from a shallow cut along his arm. The impact rattled his bones, and for a moment, he couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. Pain radiated through his body, sharp and overwhelming. His vision blurred, and he tasted copper in his mouth. He tried to push himself up, but his arms wouldn’t cooperate. His body felt heavy, unresponsive.

Ken saw it and stopped attacking. The shadows surged inward instead, layering thickly around Atlas like armor. They wrapped around his torso, his limbs, forming a protective cocoon that would absorb the next strike. Ken planted himself in front of him, breathing hard, eyes locked on the ihe, every ounce of power focused on keeping Atlas alive.

His chest heaved with exertion. His legs trembled. The shadows around him flickered unsteadily, barely holding their form. He was running out of energy. He could feel it—the exhaustion creeping in, the limits of his ability approaching fast. But he couldn’t stop. Not yet. Not while Atlas was still alive.

Ken told Atlas through gritted teeth that the ihe was too strong and he wasn’t sure he could hold on much longer. His voice was strained, barely more than a whisper. “I’m… I’m not sure how much longer I can keep this up.”

Atlas heard the words, and fear gripped him like a vice. He’d never heard Ken sound like that before. Never heard that kind of desperation, that kind of defeat. Ken was the one who always had a plan, always had a way out. But now, there was nothing. No clever trick. No last-minute save. Just a monster standing in front of them, and the slow, creeping realization that they were going to die here.

Atlas began to fear as he knew that the end was near. His breathing was shallow, his vision still swimming. He tried to gather his strength, tried to summon the energy to fight back, but his body wouldn’t respond. The pain in his arm throbbed with every heartbeat, and his ribs ached from the impact. He was helpless. Completely and utterly helpless.

The ihe stood a few meters away, watching them with those glowing eyes. It wasn’t rushing in for the kill. It was savoring the moment, enjoying their fear. Slowly, it tilted its head, and then it laughed. The sound was low and guttural, almost like a purr mixed with a growl. It was a sound that spoke of amusement, of superiority, of absolute confidence.

Then it spoke.

Its voice was deep and resonant, each word deliberate and precise. The language was perfect, with only the slightest hint of an accent that made certain consonants sharper, more hissing. “Humans,” it said, almost mockingly. “Always so fragile. So weak. You fight with your little powers, your little tricks, and you think yourselves strong.” It took a step forward, tail swaying lazily behind it. “But you are nothing. You have always been nothing.”

Ken’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing. He didn’t have the energy to argue. All he could do was stand there, shadows still flickering around him, and hope that somehow, someway, they would survive this.

The ihe continued, its tone growing colder. “Your kind are inferior to ihes, and it will always be so. You hide behind your walls, your treaties, your rules, and you pretend that you are safe. You pretend that you have won.” It laughed again, the sound echoing through the empty streets. “But the truth is, you are prey. You have always been prey. And the only reason you still draw breath is because we allow it.”

The words hit like physical blows. Atlas felt his chest tighten, his fear deepening. He wanted to shout, to deny it, but he couldn’t. The ihe was right there, proving its point with every casual movement, every effortless strike.

The creature’s eyes narrowed, its gaze shifting between Ken and Atlas. “The treaty,” it said, almost spitting the word, “was a joke. A meaningless piece of paper signed by cowards. Earth cannot enforce it. Your military cannot stop us. Your soldiers cannot fight us. And if we choose to return, there is nothing—nothing—you can do to stop us.”

It took another step forward, and Ken instinctively took a step back, his shadows pulling in tighter around Atlas. The ihe noticed, and its mouth curled into something that might have been a smile. “Look at you,” it said. “Cowering. Trembling. This is what humanity is. This is all you have ever been.”

Ken’s hands were shaking. Not from fear alone, but from the sheer effort of maintaining his defenses. His energy was nearly spent. The shadows around Atlas were thinning, barely holding together. He didn’t know how much longer he could keep this up. Seconds, maybe. A minute at most.

The ihe’s expression shifted, the amusement fading into something colder, more final. It crouched slightly, muscles coiling, preparing to strike. Its tail lifted, poised like a scorpion’s stinger.

It then told the two of them to prepare to die now. The words were delivered without emotion, without malice. Just a simple statement of fact. “You have fought well, for humans. But this is where your story ends. Prepare yourselves.”

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