SSS Talent: From Trash to Tyrant

”Last chance, Dravok.”

Dravok heard the warning and stayed exactly where he was. Turning around now would make the entire journey pointless, and the five Primordials understood his answer the moment he refused to move.

They attacked together, the first blade coming from the front while a spear cut in from his right and one of the women moved toward his left. Dravok raised one arm and activated [Origin Guard] across his forearm just before the first strike landed.

The impact pushed his arm inward, but the reinforcement held. He immediately concentrated mana over the side of his ribs as the spear struck, then shifted the protection again before the third attack reached his shoulder.

Their precision was what made the exchange dangerous. None of them wasted movements on broad swings; every strike aimed for something important, from the heart and throat to the knee, temple and lower spine.

Dravok could not protect everything at once. [Origin Guard] worked because he concentrated an enormous amount of mana into the exact place about to be hit, and spreading it across his whole body would only weaken the technique.

A black blade drove toward his chest, so Dravok reinforced directly over his heart and took the strike there. The weapon failed to break through, but another presence vanished from his vision at the same moment.

The Primordial used [Godstep] and appeared behind him. Dravok did not turn, reading the shift in mana and reinforcing the back of his skull a fraction before the weapon came down.

CLANG! rang through the stone as the attack struck and slid away. Two more attacks arrived from the front at once, forcing Dravok to protect his throat while a second blade caught his thigh before [Origin Guard] fully formed.

Blood ran down his leg, and another strike clipped his shoulder before he escaped the formation with [Godstep]. The five followed immediately and rebuilt their positions around him before he could create more distance.

The fight continued like that for several minutes. Dravok redirected blades, blocked with his hands and forearms, used [Godstep] whenever they nearly trapped him and relied on [Origin Guard] whenever avoiding a hit became impossible.

Even then, injuries accumulated. A cut opened along his back, another weapon pierced partway into his side before he caught the shaft, and dark blood gradually soaked through his clothes.

Dravok finally clicked his tongue. He kept his voice controlled when he tried one more time.

”You’re not listening. I need to speak with him. It’s urgent, and the sooner I do it, the better.”

Serren kept his weapon raised while the black markings along his arm continued shifting. He showed no sign of reconsidering.

”Then tell us here.”

”I can’t.”

”Then you don’t get through. You disappeared when our people needed you. You don’t have the right to return years later and demand a private audience.”

Dravok already understood that reasoning with them was not going to work. Worse, their reaction told him far more than they realized, because these people hated him only for abandoning the Primordials.

Trafalgar carried a far heavier name. His mother was the woman their people blamed for bringing about the end of their race, and if this was how they received Dravok, there would be no conversation waiting for her son. The conclusion came immediately into his mind: ’Kill on sight.’

The five attacked again, and this time Dravok stopped fighting only to defend himself. He had given them enough chances to listen.

He caught Serren ’s black weapon with his palm, [Origin Guard] reinforcing the point of contact. At the instant skin met metal, Dravok compressed another mass of mana into the same place and released [Ruin Pulse].

The first impact stopped the weapon, while the second travelled through it. A compact burst of force ran down the blade and into Serren’s arm, striking beneath the surface and making his fingers open involuntarily.

Dravok was already moving before Serren recovered. He used [Godstep] to cross the distance to the second Primordial and struck him once in the chest with an open palm, controlling the physical blow before another [Ruin Pulse] drove the real force inside.

The man folded forward, unable to breathe for several seconds. Dravok turned into the third attacker, caught her shoulder and sent another pulse through the reinforced flesh, disrupting the muscles beneath it until the entire arm dropped.

The fourth received the same technique through the abdomen. The fifth tried to retreat after seeing what Dravok was doing, but another [Godstep] placed Dravok beside him before a palm struck his upper thigh and [Ruin Pulse] followed through the contact.

Five controlled attacks had stopped the entire assault. None carried enough power to kill, but all five Primordials were left fighting to recover while their bodies refused to respond properly after the internal impacts.

For someone like Dravok, those few seconds were enough to kill every person standing there. He looked at them once and chose not to use the opportunity.

Instead, he activated [Godstep] again and crossed the broken terrain in one explosive movement. A second followed immediately, then a third, putting enough distance between him and the five that chasing him became pointless.

His injuries caught up with him as he moved. Blood ran from his side, shoulder and back, far darker than ordinary human blood while it remained against his body.

Several drops fell from his fingers and struck the stone. The moment they touched the air properly, their color shifted toward red while faint golden glints remained suspended within each drop.

It was Primordial blood, dense enough that even its appearance differed from the blood of the races outside the Dead Meridian. Trafalgar carried traces of the same bloodline, but what ran through Dravok was considerably purer.

Back at the entrance, Serren finally forced feeling into his arm while the others recovered around him. One of the women stared toward the direction Dravok had disappeared.

”Do we follow him, Captain Serren?”

Serren remained silent for several seconds before lowering his weapon. He knew how quickly Dravok could increase the distance now that he had decided to leave.

”No. We won’t be able to keep up.”

The weapons around the group began disappearing immediately, dissolving from their hands as the black markings across their bodies slowly stopped moving. Serren let his own weapon vanish before turning back toward the path behind them.

”We need to report this. They need to know Dravok came back.”

The other four followed him without argument. None of them attempted to chase the former God of War.