Reincarnation Of A Swordsman: The Omni Mage

Chapter 244: Kyle-Hunting In A Desert

Following his words, Kyle vanished.

The Hydra-Wyrm's heads swiveled, trying to track him, but he was already there.

First head. [Air Steps] up its side. [Blazing Impact]. The head flew off.

'One.'

He didn't wait to land. He kicked off the severed, gushing stump, using the spray of ichor as a smokescreen.

Second head. It was already turning to fire. He was faster. He came from beneath, his blade an upward silver flash that split its jaw and skull in two.

'Two.'

A tentacle tried to swat him. He spun and his blade cut it cleanly, using the severed appendage as a stepping stone.

Third and fourth heads. These ones were close together, firing their beams at where he had been.

He shot between them like a bullet, his katana a horizontal blur.

ZING!

Both heads were severed in a single, perfectly executed [Blazing Impact].

Four.

One second had passed. The stump of the first head was just beginning to steam.

Fifth head. The central one. It roared in panic, sensing its doom. It opened its maw to fire at point-blank range.

Kyle was already inside its guard. He ran straight up its snout, his katana held high, and drove the blade down, plunging it hilt-deep into the monster's massive, glowing red eye, piercing straight into its brain.

Five.

All in less than two seconds.

A catastrophic, echoing shriek tore through the sky. The regeneration on the first stump sputtered and died. The entire, mountainous beast froze. Then, like its smaller brethren, it dissolved, collapsing into a torrent of crimson particles that was so vast it created a momentary whirlwind.

When the dust settled, a single, massive Sunstone Crystal, the size of his head, lay glittering on the black sand.

Kyle, breathing heavily, walked over to claim his prize. But as his fingers brushed its surface, the ground began to shake again. And again. And again.

He looked up, his blood running cold.

From every direction, the dunes were exploding. One, two, five... ten... fifteen Tier-6 Hydra-Wyrms, identical to the one he had just fought, erupted from the sand, their thirty-five heads turning in unison to stare him down. He was surrounded.

"This," Kyle muttered, a bead of sweat tracing a line through the grime on his face, "It can't be a random encounter. This is a trap."

There was no time for strategy. There was only survival. For the next twenty minutes, the desert was a storm of plasma beams, shadowy tentacles, and the flash of silver. It was no longer a duel; it was a desperate war of attrition. He replicated his strategy, a frantic, three-second dance of death, over and over.

Kill one. Dodge five beams. Kill another. Get grazed by a tentacle that tore his shirt. Kill a third...

He was fast, but he wasn't invincible. The sheer number of attacks was overwhelming. He was collecting bruises, burns, and small cuts. His lungs burned, and his arms ached from the strain of executing [Blazing Impact] dozens of times in a row.

Finally, with a guttural roar, he plunged his blade into the eye of the fifteenth Hydra-Wyrm. It dissolved, and the battlefield fell silent.

The sand around him was a scorched, glassed-over crater, littered with massive Sunstones. The timer in his vision read [19:13]. Forty minutes had passed.

Kyle's chest was heaving. He was covered in black ichor and his own blood. He stumbled, planting the Aurora Fang into the sand, and dropped to one knee.

"Phew..." he gasped, wiping his brow. "I guess... that's all."

The silence of the Ashen Wastes returned, broken only by his ragged breathing and the ever-present howl of the wind. He needed a moment. Just one moment.

He was so focused on catching his breath, on the burning of his lungs, that he almost missed it.

There was no sound or even a tremor, it was just a flicker. A disturbance in the air to his left. A flash of white light so fast it was barely perceptible.

His instincts, honed by thousands of kills, screamed a fraction of a second too late.

He tried to move or bring his sword up, but he was exhausted. He was too slow.

Searing, agonizing pain exploded across his back. A force like a thunderbolt slammed into him, lifting him off his feet and sending him flying.

He crashed into a dune, sand filling his mouth and his vision blurring as he coughed, a spray of blood painting the black sand.

He rolled over, groaning as his entire body was on fire. A deep, perfectly clean cut ran from his right shoulder to his left hip, hissing with a faint energy.

He looked up and his eyes struggled to focus. Where he had just been kneeling, a figure now stood.

Silver hair... A cold, arrogant smile.

Milo.

In his hand, he held a single, small Sunstone Crystal, one of Kyle's, no doubt, tossing it up and catching it. He hadn't just appeared; he had run there, struck Kyle, and stolen a crystal, all in less than a second.

"You're strong, Kyle," Milo said with condescending pity. "But you're so, so slow."

Kyle could only watch. Physically, he was running on fumes, his body pushed past its breaking point.

But if there was one thing Kyle never ran out, it was his infinite mana. His muscles might be failing, but his magical reserves remained a vast, undisturbed ocean.

Milo didn't give him a second to breathe. The silver-haired boy's arrogant smile twisted into a deadly sneer.

Crackling arcs of blue and white lightning suddenly erupted from Milo's skin, enveloping him entirely. He transformed into a being of living thunder, the raw elemental energy supercharging his already terrifying speed.

"Die," Milo whispered. The word barely left his lips before he vanished.

He became a literal bolt of lightning tearing across the black dunes, leaving a scorched, glass-lined trench in his wake.

He materialized directly in front of Kyle, throwing a devastating, lightning-infused punch aimed squarely at Kyle's chest, fully intending to blow a hole straight through his heart.

But the impact never came.

Milo's fist passed cleanly through Kyle's torso as if striking nothing but smoke and shadows. The sudden lack of resistance violently threw Milo off balance.

Carried by his own monstrous momentum, he tumbled forward, his boots digging deep into the obsidian sand as he skidded several meters away before finally catching himself.

Milo looked around, his silver eyes wide with confusion.

Where there had been one exhausted swordsman just a second ago, there was now an army.

Hundreds of Kyles completely surrounded him, blanketing the scorched crater. Some were crouching low with their katanas drawn, others were mid-stride in a sprint, and a few were already leaping into the air, blades raised for a strike.

Kyle was simply everywhere.

Milo realized this was not going to be the simple execution he had thought.