SSS Talent: From Trash to Tyrant

Chapter 391: Chapter 391: The Fall of the Thal’zar [V]

Six lycans remained.

They tightened their formation after the shooters fell, circling warily, rain dripping from fur and armor alike. Their confidence hadn’t vanished, but it had shifted, sharpened into something more cautious now that the threat behind Trafalgar and Karon was gone.

Two of them advanced together.

Not by plan, just by instinct, stepping into the same line as they pushed forward, shoulders nearly brushing as they tried to overwhelm through pressure rather than finesse.

Trafalgar saw it immediately. He drew in a measured breath and let mana flow.

Pure, dense energy wrapped around Maledicta, coating the blade in a tight, controlled sheath. The rain hissed faintly as droplets touched the edge and vanished. The weight in his grip changed, heavier and sharper at the same time, the sword humming with restrained force.

Then he moved.

Trafalgar drove forward in a straight charge, boots tearing through mud and blood as he closed the distance in an instant. The two lycans barely had time to react, their bodies tensing as they realized too late that they were aligned perfectly for what was coming.

He swung once.

[Morgain’s Linebreaker].

The blade cut through the air and released a compressed wave of cutting energy that surged forward in a brutal line. It slammed into both lycans at the same time, the impact lifting them off their feet as if they weighed nothing. Bones cracked under the force, bodies snapping backward before crashing into the ground several meters away, skidding through mud until they came to a stop.

Neither of them rose.

One twitched briefly, then went still.

The other lay unmoving, breath crushed from his lungs, clearly out of the fight.

The effect was immediate.

The remaining four faltered, their formation breaking as the space between them widened without conscious intent. What had been a coordinated threat fractured into hesitation and repositioning.

Trafalgar slowed, not pressing further yet.

He let the mana around his blade fade, the glow receding until Maledicta returned to its normal, ominous presence. His breathing remained steady, controlled, eyes already tracking the next movements.

Four lycans remained.

They spread out instinctively, no longer pressing forward as a single unit, each one adjusting their stance as they searched for openings that no longer existed. Their breathing was heavier now, rain matting their fur, muscles tensing with the growing realization that the balance had shifted against them.

Trafalgar made a decision and stuck to it.

He did not draw on another skill.

The mana within him stayed contained, held in reserve for whatever might come next. This part would be finished the old way.

Karon moved first.

Roots crept up from the ground again, not erupting violently this time, but rising just enough to interfere. Ankles were caught. Steps were shortened. Momentum was stolen at the worst possible moments. The terrain itself became an enemy, turning every attempt at a charge into an uneven, frustrating struggle.

Trafalgar advanced through the gaps Karon created.

Every strike was chosen.

A lycan lunged, claws flashing. Trafalgar sidestepped, letting the attack pass, then drove the pommel of Maledicta into the side of its jaw. Bone cracked. Before the creature could recover, the blade followed through, cutting deep across its chest and dropping it to the ground where roots immediately pinned it in place.

Another came in from the right, faster, more desperate. Trafalgar met it head-on this time, steel colliding with weapon in a burst of sparks. He leaned into the clash, using raw strength to force the lycan back, then twisted and struck low, taking the leg out from under it. The fall was hard. The finish was harder.

The rain washed blood from his blade between movements.

The third fought longer.

It pushed through the roots by force alone, muscles straining, refusing to fall even as exhaustion crept into its movements. Trafalgar punished every mistake it made, each block followed by a counter, each miss answered with a cut that left it slower, weaker, bleeding more with every exchange. When it finally collapsed, it did so without ceremony, breath leaving it in a long, rattling exhale.

The last lycan hesitated.

That was enough.

Karon’s roots surged once more, locking it in place just long enough for Trafalgar to close the distance and end it with a single, controlled strike.

Silence crept back into the space they had cleared.

Four bodies lay in the mud.

The rain continued to fall.

The area was secure.

The rain did not ease.

It kept falling steadily, washing blood into the mud until the ground became a dark, slick mirror of what had just ended there. The bodies were already still, half-submerged, steam rising faintly where warm blood met cold water.

Trafalgar and Karon remained standing where they were.

Neither celebrated. Neither spoke at first.

Their breathing was controlled, measured, the kind that came from long habit rather than relief. The zone around them was quiet now, cleared of movement and threat.

Hooves splashed through the mud.

Trafalgar turned as a stag with golden-yellow fur emerged through the rain, its antlers catching dull light as it slowed. Aubrelle sat astride it, cloak soaked, posture steady despite the battlefield around her. The familiar’s presence carried a quiet weight, something older than the war itself.

”The area is secured,” she said clearly as she came to a stop.

Karon inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment.

Moments later, Arthur arrived at a brisk pace, rain dripping from his armor as he saluted sharply.

”My lord.”

Trafalgar looked at him.

”How many casualties?”

Arthur didn’t hesitate.

”Only one, my lord.”

Trafalgar held his gaze for a second, then nodded.

”I see. Recover the body now. We’ll take him with us. His family deserves a proper burial.”

Arthur straightened.

”Understood.”

He turned immediately, already issuing quiet orders as he moved back into the rain.

Trafalgar shifted his attention to Aubrelle.

”Come with me,” he said. ”We’ll get out of this rain for a moment.”

She guided the stag toward a nearby structure, its stone walls offering at least partial shelter. Garrika followed them inside without being asked, shaking water from her hair as they crossed the threshold.

The rain drummed against the roof above.

Trafalgar looked between them. ”How are you holding up?”

Garrika answered first, rolling one shoulder. ”I’m fine,” she said. ”No injuries.”

Aubrelle nodded.

”I’m alright too. Garrika covered me while I focused on my summons.”

Garrika glanced at her, then gave a short nod.

”Team effort.”

Trafalgar let out a slow breath.

Outside, the rain continued to fall.

The zone was secured.

But the war was far from over.