In the heart of a forest shrouded in darkness, where jagged branches clawed out from colossal, lifeless trees, the faint screech of Lowkey's sword echoed in the distance, grating against the plague horns of the Sul rank — the Ember Horse.
Lowkey's body was hurled through the air, colliding with a massive tree with a sharp, resounding crack, then sliding limply down its trunk until he crumpled to the ground, letting out a faint clatter. Blood gurgled up as he coughed, his trembling hand straining to move, to grasp, to act — but to no avail. His arms lay sprawled uselessly on the ground, as though drained of all strength.
With each passing moment, his body's state grew more perilous. If this battle dragged on any longer, death would be the only outcome.
A faint groan escaped between his clenched teeth as he tightened his grip on his sword. His gaze, though shaking with exhaustion, was fixed intently forward.
Just a few meters ahead loomed the silhouette of the black Ember Horse, panting heavily where it stood.
The beast pawed fiercely at the earth before it charged, thundering toward the battered figure of Lowkey, sprawled like a marionette with its strings cut beside the massive tree.
Lowkey's eyes locked onto the rampaging black horse, its wicked dark horns lowered, his own hand wrapped feebly around the hilt of his blade — though he could no longer lift it. Right now, he couldn't even utter a word.
The sharp clatter of hooves grinding against the ground filled the air like a haunting rhythm, each strike showering red sparks as the black horse pounded closer. But just before it reached Lowkey, one of its ears flicked slightly to the left…
Suddenly, another silhouette emerged before Lowkey, whose eyes flew wide in shock.
The next instant, the black horse's horns were smashed by the powerful strike of a white hybrid horse's iron-shod hoof, sending up a spray of pus before one of the metallic horns cracked clean off.
The horses' hooves were no ordinary appendages — their steel ends were weapons in their own right, designed not only to traverse harsh, rugged terrain but to kill.
The scene resembled a car losing control at 120 kilometers an hour — the black horse's body veered off course, flipping over from the sheer force before it crashed into one of the blood-veined trees, roaring as it struck.
Now both the black horse and Lowkey lay sprawled across the scattered trees, while the only figure still standing in that cursed forest was the white hybrid horse, neighing in triumph, its piercing gaze locked onto the staggering black beast by the tree.
With poised grace, the white horse pawed the earth, its breath erupting from its lungs in a sound like a jet engine warming up, ready to charge once more at the opponent still struggling to steady its bloodied body.
Lowkey had never been its enemy; its true target was always the black Ember Horse.
A high, piercing neigh broke through the forest, followed by the relentless clatter of the white horse's hooves tearing through the sand as it charged madly toward the black horse, devouring the ground with wild speed.
Then, suddenly, its hooves lifted from the earth — the white horse was soaring, quite literally flying toward its prey.
Three meters in the air, wind whipping through its pale mane, it darted forward — but a jagged branch loomed ahead, poised to slice its body.
With a deft strike, the horse kicked against the air, pushing itself just enough to avoid the branch, though it lost its balance. Still, it hadn't escaped unscathed — the branch scored a shallow gash across its back, like a knife through cheese.
Landing, the white horse found itself face-to-face with Lowkey, who struggled to rise. But instead of attacking him, the horse swiveled its ears toward him and cast him a calm, almost peaceful look, before turning its gaze back to the black horse with a low, rumbling snort.
Shock was plain on Lowkey's face; his eyes widened slightly, unable to believe what he was witnessing. A flying horse — that spared him?
By now, both the black horse and Lowkey had pulled themselves up, each preparing for the next brutal round of battle, joining the white hybrid already standing.
Lowkey gritted his teeth, sweat beading coldly on his brow as he assumed a ready stance. His hand trembled, but his glare was sharp, burning with fury toward the black horse.
The black horse now bore only a single horn, its body riddled with gashes and bruises. Clearly, the fight was taking its toll on it as well — but it stood its ground, its face carved into an expression of unmistakable defiance.
Once again, the white horse bolted forward, hooves ringing out with an ear-splitting clang, tearing toward the black beast at full speed, leaving Lowkey in the dust. At the same moment, the black horse's hooves flared with glowing red sparks, like embers, as it launched itself toward the white horse, horn aimed to kill.
From a distance, Lowkey watched, poised, his eyes sharp as he waited for the opening he needed.
In the instant before the horses collided, the white horse suddenly halted, pivoting sharply to unleash a brutal backward kick to the black horse's face.
The black horse's head twisted, narrowly dodging the blow that instead slammed into its belly, forcing a deafening roar from its throat, followed by a shrill, piercing neigh. Snarling, it drove its remaining horn deep into the very gash the branch had left in the white horse's back.
The white horse let out another agonized roar, its body beginning to falter under the pain; its hind leg quivered violently from the strike.
Sensing his moment, Lowkey, having regained a sliver of strength, surged forward, sword in hand, sprinting toward the entangled horses. Before him, the black horse violently tore the white horse free of its horn, turning to face Lowkey with a murderous glare, body aligned to charge.
Only moments away from collision, Lowkey's face remained inscrutable, his sharp gaze locked on his opponent, his brows knitting tighter with every step.
Though the horse before him was panting, worn, Lowkey himself was no better — this was a gamble.
Clenching his teeth, he pressed forward, while the black horse hurtled toward him, closing the distance.
At the moment of impact, Lowkey thrust his blade toward the black horse's violet eye — but in a swift, brutal motion, the beast drove its lone horn toward Lowkey's chest.
The only sound was a sickening crunch — his armor crumpled inward, nearly pierced through by the sheer force of the horse's charge. His sword, meanwhile, never reached its mark.
With a desperate motion, Lowkey dragged his blade toward the base of the horse's horn — but a heartbeat later, his body was flung through the air with a high, whistling scream, smashing into yet another massive tree with a thunderous crash.
He lay motionless on the ground, his armor punctured by the embedded horn. Only the faint, ragged rise and fall of his breath betrayed that he was still alive.
A few meters away, the black horse bled profusely from the base of its missing second horn, gasping for breath, its chest heaving in ragged bursts.
---
Lowkey felt a spray of something wet slap his face, a burst of bright light searing against his closed eyelids. Blinking them open, his vision blurred in the blinding sunlight, he felt white dust stinging his skin.
Before him loomed the massive hindquarters of a horse, its iron-shod hooves spraying sand into his face.
Lowkey coughed weakly, lifting a hand to swipe away the grit.
"Stop — I'm awake… get your damn ass out of my face!"
He grumbled with furrowed brows, clear irritation etching his face.
A few meters off to the right, Lowkey spotted the lifeless corpse of the black hors
e sprawled on the ground, part of its skull split open, raw brain matter exposed.