The chains of Twin-Link Cataclysm lashed forward, slicing through the air with a high-pitched shriek as Garrick lunged at Norzulm.
The golem lay behind him can't move, the domain's recoil already biting into Garrick's shoulders, but he ignored the pain.
This was no longer a team fight. The others—Mélanie was trapped in the cube.
Lily's ghosts distracted Otes and Enéas pinned—they were merely just an spectators now.
Only the two of them remained in the clearing.
"Big words for a cube-slinging show-off!" Garrick roared, swinging both greatswords in a cross-arc.
The invisible chains whipped around Norzulm from two sides at once, aiming to crush ribs and sever limbs.
Norzulm snapped his fingers once.
A wall of perfect cubes materialized in a tight sphere around him, each face shimmering with compressive force.
The chains slammed into the barrier with a deafening clang, sparks flying, but the cubes held—barely.
Norzulm said calmly. "Chains are just fancy string. And string wasily breaks."
He flicked two fingers. The fractured cubes exploded outward in a storm of razor-edged shards, forcing Garrick to leap backward.
One shard grazed his cheek, drawing a thin line of blood.
In the dim light of his small Paris apartment, Loki sat alone at the battered upright piano tucked against the wall.
The window was open; distant traffic hummed below.
His fingers slammed into the keys.
The third movement of Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata erupted fast, and relentless.
His dark hair fell over his bored blue eyes as his hands blurred across the keyboard, the melody savage and beautiful at once.
The whole room vibrated.
A half-empty coffee mug rattled on the side table. Loki's expression never changed—still that same quiet boredom—but the music poured out of him.
Garrick twisted mid-air, chains retracting and lashing again in a whirlwind pattern. "Dual Fang—Heavenly Guillotine!"
The linked blades spun overhead, the silver chains forming a deadly spinning cage that closed in on Norzulm from every direction.
Norzulm simply stepped forward. One massive cube formed beneath his feet, launching him upward like a piston.
He passed straight through a gap in the chains, landed behind Garrick, and drove a palm strike into the Hunter's spine.
The impact sounded like a sledgehammer on steel.
Garrick staggered, coughing blood, but spun instantly, swords slashing in a desperate X form.
The chains followed, wrapping around Norzulm's left arm and squeezing. Stone-like cracks formed in the white-haired man's sleeve as the compressive force met the domain's razor energy.
"Not bad," Norzulm admitted, voice still ice-cool. "But you're burning mana like a rookie." He clenched his fist.
The cube around his arm detonated inward, shattering the chain link and sending Garrick flying ten meters into a tree trunk with a sickening crack.
Loki's hands continued to play through the piano keys.
His face stayed blank, almost sleepy.
The music filled the tiny apartment, spilling out the open window.
Garrick pushed himself up, breathing ragged, both swords trembling in his grip.
The Twin-Link domain flickered dangerously at the edges—recoil setting in.
"You... talk too much." Garrick roared and lunged, swords leading, chains following in a deadly figure-eight.
Norzulm's left hand snapped up—bare palm catching the first greatsword mid-swing.
The impact rang like a church bell. Garrick's wrist bones cracked audibly.
Before Garrick could pull back, Norzulm's right fist drove straight into his solar plexus. Ribs shattered—four of them at once.
The air exploded from Garrick's lungs in a wet gasp.
Norzulm didn't stop. He stepped in closer, grabbed the second sword by the blade with his bare hand—ignoring the razor chain energy cutting into his palm—and yanked Garrick forward off-balance.
A brutal knee slammed into Garrick's thigh; the femur snapped with a sickening pop. Garrick's leg buckled.
"You're swinging toys while I'm using hands," Norzulm murmured, almost mocking. "How does that feel?"
Garrick tried to scream an incantation reinforcement—too late.
Norzulm's elbow smashed into his jaw. Teeth shattered and blood sprayed.
Another punch to the collarbone—crack—then a vicious uppercut to the floating ribs—more fractures exploding like gunfire.
Garrick's domain flickered, chains weakening, but still active. He was being beaten to death inside his own ultimate technique.
Norzulm finished the combo with cold precision: left hook to the temple, right cross to the sternum, spinning back-fist to the spine, and a final palm strike directly to the heart.
The last blow landed with a wet, crunching thud. Garrick's eyes widened in shock and agony. Every major bone in his upper body was fractured.
Blood poured from his mouth.
Garrick tried to stand up breaking his limits.
The chains of Twin-Link Cataclysm lashed forward in one final, desperate frenzy—silver energy screaming through a thousand whips.
Garrick poured every last drop of mana into the strike, body shaking, domain flickering at the edges.
"I'll end this—Heavenly Guillotine!" he roared, blades spinning overhead in a lethal vortex.
"You can still fight after all of that?" Norzulm then met the attack head-on.
Cubes spun into existence around both of them, turning the clearing into a deadly cube maze.
Garrick slashed through one, only for two more to slam shut from the sides, forcing him to duck. Norzulm appeared in the gap, fist already cocked.
Their eyes locked for a split second—silver chains versus floating cubes.
Forest's exploded with the sound of clashing magic and raw fury.
Norzulm didn't even move his feet. He simply raised one hand.
A single, perfect cube the size of a massive building snapped into existence inches from the sky.
The cube slammed into it with a deafening CRACK.
The cube didn't shatter. It absorbed the impact, then pulsed once—compressing the entire domain's energy inward like a black hole.
Silver chains snapped, and dissolved into harmless sparks.
Twin-Link Cataclysm domain collapsed with a pathetic pop.
Both greatswords clattering from his numb fingers.
Blood dripped from his mouth, his arms hanging limp, shoulders torn from the recoil. He's chest heaving, vision fading away.
Garrick's body was crushed under the pressure of the cube.
He had landed… one scratch. A single thin red line across Norzulm's left cheek, barely visible under the white hair.
That was it. Everything else—every attavl, every slash, every arcane's-fueled strike—had been turned aside or absorbed without a trace.
Norzulm tilted his head, brushing the tiny cut with a fingertip. A faint smear of blood came away.
"Hm. You actually drew blood. Congratulations," he said, voice flat and bored. "That's more than most A-Ranks manage before they pass out."
Norzulm snapped his fingers.
He exhaled through his nose, cubes orbiting lazily around him once more.
Not a single bead of sweat on his face. Not a single torn thread on his coat.
"Pathetic," he muttered, turning away.
Then, with one last crashing chord that rattled the window panes, the piece ended.
Silence swallowed the apartment.
Loki's hands lifted slowly from the keys. He stared at the window for a few seconds, his expression unchanged.
Norzulm glanced at Garrick's body, then at the rest of the party still trapped
Mélanie slumped and still panting, "H-how..?"
Lily's ghosts flickering, Otes and Enéas were pinned silent.
"Garrick....." Otes muttered his voice low, eyes glued to Garrick's crushed body.
Norzulm flicked his wrist.
All the cubes dissolved at once and appeared right next to him.
The battlefield was clearly his without a single real effort.