When unleashed at its limits, Baneful Cyclone was an unfathomably destructive skill capable of claiming an absurd amount of lives.

As the name suggested, it was a skill that channeled Kieran's negative emotions, but augmented, weaponized and sharpened their detestable qualities.

Then, it exploded outward.

Like a storm of bloody resentments, the fallout of a grim reaper's rampage, the blood that constituted the attack was diabolical enough to achieve startling amounts of damage to all that it touched.

Though he was pinned against 10,000 enemies, with this skill, Kieran's presence seemed to expand and contest this frightening contingent of fallen creatures of war.

Yet, there was one individual that remained inured to the bloody lacerations inflicting their armor. That individual was naturally Adeia.

Except, her appearance had now undergone another change. Some may not consider the stark transformation to be that shocking, but Kieran could sense the fierce rigidity coursing beneath that streamlined and miniaturized figure.

Adeia's previous bulky armor had fallen apart, swiftly crumbling to dust. The remnants of that destroyed armor returned to the crimson rivers of blood, intensifying its activity until it matched the level of an active volcano.

Tectonic changes occurred as the entirety of the War Phantasmagoria's landscape trembled. These tremors came from undulations of energy that Adeia's streamlined and somewhat lithe body could no longer accommodate.

Her power seemed to return in set intervals once her current condition acclimated to the change. Though, that was understandable, seeing as the entire trial was designed to train and sharpen by continually introducing new perils, hardships and ungodly amounts of pressure.

Of course, sometimes introducing too harsh of an obstruction was counterintuitive, leading to some discrepancies and issues that weren't accounted for. After all, not everyone could steel themselves to handle anything thrown at them.

Sometimes, they broke.

Like ceramic dolls in a toddler's hand, whose blissful youth leaves them oblivious to the concept of gentleness or softness.

In her new set of obsidian armor, where the breastplate's curvature highlighted the curves of her body, her vambraces revealed the compact strength of her forearms, while her greaves poorly covered the gray skin that seemed reminiscent of fresh ash.

As Kieran lifted his gaze, he noticed that in Adeia's eyes, a portion of that burning resentment had vanished, replaced by a budding coldness that seeped into his bones, his movements stricken by what appeared to be fear-induced paralysis.

Adeia's callous expression seemed befitting of one destined to overlook battle, resigned and condemned to be the slayer of countless lives.

Could a person like that obtain retribution? Did they deserve salvation? After all, everything in life revolved around choices, whether unavoidable, inevitable, or willful.

"Come. Reveal to me the power that has led you here," Adeia said.

Her voice had become more effeminate, losing its former foreboding deepness. It was clear that some sort of shackle on her was being shattered, but it only related to her power, not her freedom.

Kieran suspected that she could never truly be free of this place until something stronger.. something more potent.. something almighty, extricated her from this place.

Trial grounds created by a Relic were not something any random person could destroy. For one, it required a certain level of familiarity in terms of dealing with Relics.

Or better yet.. it demanded a power that transcended the conditions of the Relic's creations.

The number of people that held this strength in Xenith was few and far between. Hoping for salvation in that form was pointless—a recipe for limitless and eternal despair.

After unleashing his Baneful Cyclone, utilizing his blood that had finally decided to work in accordance with his desires as it finally understood his demise was its demise, Kieran could tell his grasp of his current strength was waning quickly.

Like an ocean fed into a colossal sieve, Kieran's brutal propensity for massive amounts of destruction diminished swiftly.

The increasing severity of his situation made Kieran question why this trial made him feel so desperate.

Was there something about interacting with a Relic that transcended the limits of this "game" they played? What would happen to him if he died inside a Relic's space?

Kieran had asked himself this question before.

Back inside the Ancient Rune Oasis, a sense of absolute despair, inescapable and firm, washed over him every time his Mystic Tether sustained damage.

An instinctual fear was awakened in the depths of his being, telling him that he couldn't afford to fail in that environment.

However.. why would such a fear be present if it was nothing more than a game they accessed through VR Equipment? Though, as Kieran barreled toward Adeia, adamant about ensuring his survival, another question assailed Kieran's mind.

What if the danger of it all wasn't death in the sense most humans believed?

What if dying here would result in him losing himself forever?

What would happen to a body that was without a functioning soul to drive the vessel?I think you should take a look at

Armed with these questions, Kieran found a new hankering for answers.

But.. he couldn't and wouldn't use himself as a test subject to ascertain the answers to these questions. Kieran would have to find a more practical and less dangerous alternative to confirm his suspicions.

It would require some heartless decisions, but if it was for the sake of understanding why he returned and what Zenith Online truly was, and how it related to the X-hancers that seemed to be at the core of it all, given its effects, Kieran was willing to engage in cruel acts.

Moving with reckless abandon, which made his speed and power enviable, Kieran unleashed his swordsmanship to the peak of what he understood.

There were sharp slashes full of deceit thanks to subtle and precise feints.

He then followed up with an implementation of sudden and admittedly dishonorable strikes, made to fill in the deficit in his sword strikes.

After that, Kieran ruthlessly unleashed a desperate chain of attacks.

With the disturbing force and harrowing ferocity of a natural disaster concealed inside a human body, Kieran maintained a tempestuous flurry of especially lethal attacks.

Each of these strikes aimed to maim and mutilate Adeia's body. There was absolutely no honor or dignity in the way he currently attacked.

It was all supported by his primal urge to survive, to emerge the victor.

Meanwhile, Adeia's callous eyes radiated a cold sensation of murder. When she moved, it was precise, disrupting the chaotic rhythm of Kieran's desperate onslaught.

Yet, Kieran recovered from the disruption, returning with redoubled persistence, both fervent and unhinged.

Despite his attempts, however, Adeia only seemed to grow into a more insurmountable opponent with each successive strike. Subsequently, a few moments after her changes, red veins covered in a slimy mucous membrane moved up her arms and legs, drastically increasing her striking power.

Moments after this change, Kieran was forced back, his bruised and battered body colliding with the large rock knoll in the background.

An indent the size of his body formed, the outer edges crumbling, some of the debris falling into his matted and blood-soaked hair.

"As much as I desired it.. it seems this ardent hope of mine will not be fulfilled. As I have for the last thousands of years, I will continue to be condemned to my unfortunate and never-ending duties. It was a valiant fight, but this is where it ends. You have done everything you could to battle and endure. But in the end.. you couldn't kill and survive just like the others."

While she spoke, Adeia raised Deidamia high above her head, the beautifully-forged odachi, enveloped in a surge of deathly and violent energy. Since she had determined Kieran to be incapable of bringing her salvation, Adeia decided it was time she stopped clinging to this pitiful amount of hope she mustered.

It was sad. And standing there, she looked somber and sullen under it all. At the moment, her powerful and lithe body withered in Kieran's perspective, her presence becoming gaunt, haggard, and wistful.

These changes didn't truly take place, but it was how the hallucinating Kieran perceived them. In these final moments of despair, Kieran could feel how Adeia's innermost reluctance betrayed her current actions.

His throat was dry from his desperate straits, and his one good eye seemed unfocused and hazy, but Kieran lifted his head to witness the sword drop.

Silence overwhelmed the War Phantasmagoria, followed by a thunderous explosion and a cataclysmic tremor. A vast cloud of dust, debris and broken rocks erupted skyward, but Adeia revealed a genuinely displeased frown.

"Why won't you die? What.. are you clinging to?"

Some distance away, a glint of red, nearly imperceptible and horrifyingly weak, shone.

It was the remnants of Crimson Ashrune's Sacrificial Barrier, layered with his bracelet's special skill, the Ordinance of Protection.

Superimposed, they withstood the trauma of Adeia's attack. From the start, Kieran was resolved not to die. He hadn't completed the task given to him, after all.

Not to mention, he couldn't ignore this gnawing feeling that his soul had created.

It urged him not to die. It pleaded for him to continue growing stronger. To not give in.

And so, that's what he intended to do. Kieran was not going to give up, no matter how emaciated and cadaverous his current state felt and appeared.

Dragging his moribund body forward, losing the enhancement of Abhorrent Paroxysm, Kieran staggered.

"I can't die. Not until I've achieved what I said I would. And you.. you can't die, either. Perhaps there's a greater purpose for you. We just need to find it. No.. we will find it."

Suddenly, the air around Kieran changed, growing bright red as if it were drowning in a giant sea of blood.

The feeling of it was unlike anything Adeia had ever witnessed, and it certainly was not something she expected Kieran to be capable of.

Not in his current condition, nor when at his best.historical