With the inclusion of the Fallen Commander, the situation had devolved from bad to worse.
Gradually picking off one hundred well-versed murderous freaks while reserving his powerful skills was already complicated enough. Now he had to account for a far more frightening nightmare capable of moderating the partially entropic attack patterns of the Fallen Gladiators.
Order was good in some cases.
If read correctly, Kieran could grasp his opponents' rhythm and devise patterns to counteract how they moved, attacked, defended and shifted during combat.
However, establishing order also wasn't in Kieran's favor.
Suppose the Fallen Commander mustered greater competence than it had already showcased thus far. In that case, it could potentially devise a method to disrupt Kieran's rhythm.
Such was the duality of war—fickle and challenging as well as mercurial and paradoxical. The same strengths Kieran wielded could become his weakness.
Yet, Kieran ambled along to meet the Fallen Commander, his gaze calm and firm, carrying an unshakable ferocity.
A new whetstone had arrived before him.
His currently unperturbed and inflexible gait sang the tune of boundless temerity. Since the Fallen Commander could conjure long-range slashes at will, Kieran closed the distance with a violent, tumultuous crimson storm brewing behind his back.
Five uniform and tantalizingly sinister blood twisters scarred the ground.
A casual sway of his arm was like a decree of a battle god, permitting the comparatively tame tempest to run amok and cause rampant, chaotic and oddly blissful mayhem.
As these Sanguinem Tempest swept with unceremonious disinterest for the faintest of life, Kieran kept his eyes locked on the Fallen Commander.
"I'm thinking far too critically for a situation requiring pure grit. Overwhelming odds? Possible tactics? I merely need to force my way through like an unparalleled blade passing through its challenger," Kieran thought aloud.
These words were used to convince himself that although the rounds to come were shrouded in mystery, he shouldn't let those debilitating thoughts paralyze him now.
"Stronger…" The Fallen Commander's deep shrill sounded, but this time it spoke of recognition, accepting the power of Kieran's skill.
Still, it didn't view Kieran as an equal. All he could ever be was an opponent that it must eliminate.
The atmosphere stilled with palpable tension as a silent standoff ensued between Kieran and the Fallen Commander. Yet in the background, the five Sanguinem Tempests continued to wreak pure havoc upon the Fallen Gladiator, dismembered limbs and peculiar metal shards being thrown about haphazardly.
The already austere environment now embodied disarray.
Finally, after a few seconds, the momentum of the tempests diminished significantly, marking the beginning of Kieran's true fight of this round. The skill hadn't eliminated all of the Fallen Gladiators, but it did halve the cohort's numbers.
Avoiding the swift swordsmanship of the Fallen Commander, Kieran parried some of the absurdly fast strikes that came his way. Sometimes, they happened so quickly that the clangor of the first strike overlapped with Kieran defending against the second.
In terms of battle prowess, this Fallen Commander undoubtedly reached the standard of a Boss. If Kieran had to specify which rank, he'd say perhaps an Epic Boss. However, its level also had to be taken into account.
Needless to say, it was much higher than Bundal.
Of course, throughout the battle, Kieran didn't remain purely defensive. This trial was the perfect whetstone for all the irritating obstacles he faced.
The first was the matter of his blood.
Every time he suffered a wound from the Fallen Commander, Kieran's body was forced to acclimate to its new healing potency, which in turn made Kieran more aware of the sensations that accompanied the ability.
A deeper cognizance of his blood's usefulness would help him stimulate it faster. It was like a mind-muscle connection… except it was mind… to blood.
Aside from recognizing the value of this increased cognizance, stress, which was usually viewed as a negative stimulus given its adverse effects on one's health, be it physical, mental, or emotional, assisted Kieran greatly.
A natural inclination awakened within him when a substantial amount of stress and pressure was placed upon Kieran. Partially harmless, the proclivity drove Kieran to command his blood. It wasn't gentle either.
The tone Kieran's inner voice used was quite… domineering.
But, unsurprisingly, as Quintessential Aether was born from a World Source, which typically housed a Worldly Will, it was rebellious by nature, seeking to adhere to its creator's wish.
The challenge was shattering this defiance and molding it into loyalty purposed for Kieran's benefit. This wouldn't happen after one or two tries, nor would it occur after one hundred.
Kieran could attest to that.
After all, he and the Fallen Commander had exchanged upwards of three hundred strikes, many of them resulting in Kieran's currently accumulating wounds.
After their most recent clash, Kieran was forced back, coming to a grinding halt moments later. He huffed, contemplating if he should activate Dread Culling to end this all very quickly.
Monitoring his surroundings to avoid fatal attacks from his rear while maintaining high-intensity combat with the commander-level opponent was downright exhausting.
Not even his monstrous Stamina could keep him from feeling the subtle onset of exhaustion encroaching on his remarkably mundane body.
Yet it was only the third round.
Kieran couldn't fathom how Ronan had succeeded in reaching the 5th. No, based on Veradin's words, he had reached the 6th.
'Though I know I'm holding back, I can't help but wonder if Ronan struggled with this round as I have. If he employed Weightless World… the answer is likely no.'
The memorable scene of weightlessness, the inability to control how his body reacted to the mercurial forces acting upon him, played in Kieran's mind. These Fallen Gladiators would have been sitting ducks before that ability… perhaps even this Fallen Commander.
In most cases, comparing one's feat was a foolish act—the ploy of a cruel demolitionist. More often than not, comparison was the source of many envy-fueled machinations.
But when one's twisted nature wasn't potent enough, it tended to drain the will to act, creating a dull, lifeless puppet lacking the slightest conviction that made one human.
An aimless, purposeless individual without an internal dogma to follow.
However, there was a third outcome attributed to comparison—one rarely talked about simply because of its scarcity—fuel. It took a perverse, self-indulgent, and admittedly masochistic person capable of putting themselves through mental anguish for the sake of improvement.
In order words… it required a main character.
Mind awash with the desire to prove his ability to stand beside a budding powerhouse like Ronan, Kieran obstinately fastened his grip on Crimson Ashrune.
It was time to end this battle.
A strange pulse of disorienting bloody energy inundated his surroundings, attempting to puzzle the Fallen Commander. It may not have a tangible mind, but it did possess a thought process.
So, in theory, Blood Pulse should succeed in dismantling the cohesiveness of its thoughts.
The Fallen Commander staggered briefly, revealing its unsteady condition. It was the perfect time to act. However, while he made his move, Kieran realized he had made a grave oversight.
The Fallen Commander molded sentience was a product of these rivers of blood. It could supply more to return it to its former glory.
It was a surprise, to say the least, but it wasn't a dire development.
Kieran had a makeshift and honestly hit-or-miss solution in mind. It involved something he should not rely upon given the prior warnings he had received.
But defiance was deeply embedded in his bones. He was it, and it was him.
He existed to defy and mystify.
Left with no other foreseeable option as the Fallen Commander abruptly regained clarity from its previously muddled state, Kieran relied upon his Aspect.
The chaotic and dreadful energy came alive, but he didn't aim an attack at the commander's body. He cut the air beside it, severing an odd immaterial connection barely visible to his eyes.
Once cut, the Fallen Commander's lucidity dimmed by several tones, but it remained formidable and superior to the Fallen Gladiators, whose numbers were now a pittance, robbed of its praiseworthy quantity.
What Kieran had just cut was the near-invisible threads of the crimson river. They littered the War Phantasmagoria, and numerous more snaked toward the Fallen Commander after being severed.
Considering he couldn't keep his Aspect active for long without severely fatiguing his mind and soul, nonstop severance of these threads was not a sustainable option.
He had to finish off the Fallen Commander quickly. For this, Kieran had a practical skill in mind.
Kieran made use of Blood Wave's short cooldown, fusing it with his Aspect's frightening capacity to augment his skills, turning them into attacks that practically ignored most, if not all, defenses.
Based on the current appearance of these Blood Waves, they resembled arcs of might born in the depths of hell—infernal, ominous, and ruinous. Every trait perfectly mimicked Kieran's innermost being.
A being not even he was aware of.
By the time the threads reattached to the Fallen Commander's strikingly fearsome armor, reigniting its malevolent sentience, Kieran's attacks were upon it.
"Wild Crash!"
"Blood Wave"
Two basic True Berserker skills, yet the rugged might of these combined skills rivaled all of the strikes from Dread Culling unleashed all at once.
Come to think of it, Kieran had never attempted to merge his Aspect with Dread Culling.
He had only weaponized the Aspect itself against Thrax. What would that combination look like? Kieran's curiosity grew thinking about that.
Meanwhile, after releasing his attacks empowered by his Aspect, Kieran panted, falling to a knee, belatedly stabbing his sword into the ground for support.
He was forewarned. This Ruinous Negation Aspect, which carried semblances of several Origin Principles, was too demanding for an Intermediate Being to unleash safely.
Despite these concerns, Kieran had prevailed. Against the third round, at least.
All one hundred of his enemies had been dealt with. But this action merely paved the way for an even more bizarre peril.
