Chapter 520: You Lost

Kragzor’s fist was already committed, the weapon art fully charged, the ball of power too far along to stop.

He couldn’t defend himself.

He could only try to redirect the attack upward, turning the downward punch into an upward strike.

The massive fist’s edge rose to meet Damian’s descending form.

And both attacks landed simultaneously.

BOOOOOOOOOOOM

The explosion erased everything in a sphere of pure white energy.

The sound went beyond hearing, became a physical force that radiated outward in waves.

The IronJaw Domain shattered like glass, the jaws dissolving into fragments of breaking reality.

The rain itself was blasted away, creating a dome of clear air that expanded and expanded.

And when the light finally faded–

****

[Several Moments Earlier - Outside the Domain]

The entire giant army stood at attention, weapons held ready, their eyes locked on the Domain’s boundary.

Among the thousands of assembled giants, whispers began spreading through the younger warriors.

"Will the Chief win?"

One of them whispered it quietly, the words barely carrying.

Another responded, just as quiet.

"He is the weakest among all fourteen chiefs... That human seemed strong, strong enough to make the Chief use his domain..."

"But he is still a Chief! One of the greatest geniuses our race has produced!"

"The human’s armor looked stronger than ours... And did you see how he caught that first punch?"

Their whispers continued, uncertainty bleeding through.

Behind them, older giants stood with crossed arms, their expressions calm and unbothered.

One of the commanders spoke, his voice carrying casual confidence.

"The young ones always worry too much."

Another nodded agreement.

"Even if Chief Krazgor Ironjaw is the weakest among the fourteen, there is no human who could handle him in single combat."

"Their prodigies are soft, trained in academies instead of real war."

"This will be over soon."

Their conversation carried the weight of experience, of having seen countless battles, of knowing their kind’s superiority.

Then, without warning–

CRACK CRACK CRACK

The Domain sphere began fracturing, lines of light spreading across its surface.

BOOOOOOM

And it exploded outward, fragments dissolving into nothing as reality reasserted itself.

The blast wave reached the assembled army, making even the largest warriors brace themselves.

Dust and debris filled the air, obscuring vision completely.

For several long heartbeats, nobody could see what had happened.

Then the dust began settling, pulled down by the returning rain, and shapes became visible.

The younger giants saw it first.

Their Young Chief knelt on one knee in the mud, his chest heaving, his hands braced against the ground.

And at a distance away, a smaller figure lay completely still.

The black armor was fully caved in across the torso and arms, dented so severely it had to be crushing the body underneath.

The surface was burned and scorched, the metal warped from extreme heat.

Both horns had broken off cleanly, the stumps jagged and smoking.

The figure wasn’t moving, wasn’t breathing as far as anyone could tell.

By every measure, it looked like their Young Chief had won.

The younger giants began relaxing, tension bleeding from their shoulders.

But then several of the old commanders started moving, their massive forms breaking into runs toward the battlefield.

Their faces showed something the younger warriors didn’t understand.

"What are they–"

The question died as Krazgor’s voice boomed across the battlefield, cutting through confusion.

"Warrior..."

He took a breath, his chest still heaving from exertion.

"Even though you possess strength that surpasses most races I have encountered..."

His hand gestured toward Damian’s motionless form.

"Ultimately, you are far weaker than me in direct combat."

Another breath, steadying himself.

"You fought with courage and skill that I respect, but respect doesn’t change the outcome."

His voice became harder.

"You lost."

Silence fell between the two warriors.

Then the black armored figure began to stir, the chest plate rising and falling with breath.

Damian’s hands pressed against the muddy ground, his body pushing upward with movements that looked agonizing.

He rose to his knees, then to his feet, swaying slightly but standing.

His whisper emerged from behind the damaged helmet, quiet but carrying clearly through the rain.

"Indeed..."

He straightened further, his posture becoming steady.

"You won the battle."

His head lifted, the helmet facing Krazgor directly.

"But it is I who won the war."

’Huh?’

Krazgor’s thoughts came confused.

’What is he talking about? What war? He can barely stand, he’s–’

"CHIEF! YOUR HELMET!"

The shout came from the rushing commanders, their voices overlapping in desperate warning.

"CHIEF, CHECK YOUR HELMET!"

Time seemed to slow down.

Krazgor’s massive hand rose, moving toward his head almost in slow motion.

His fingers touched metal, found the helmet’s surface, traced across it.

And froze completely.

The top section was gone, sheared away so cleanly it looked like it had been cut with a blade designed for that exact purpose.

The advanced protective plating that was supposed to shield his head, the technology that made his mind invulnerable, had been destroyed.

Goosebumps erupted across his entire body, his skin crawling with sudden horrified understanding.

’No...’

His mind raced backward through the battle, replaying every exchange with new context.

The first strike to his chest, testing the armor’s strength. Then the second, the third, the hundredth strike...

All of them targeting only two points: Chest or back.

’From the very start of the battle, his goal was never to kill me...’

Over and over and over, until his mind started expecting it, started forming a pattern, started building a habit.

’It was to destroy my helmet.’

His hand trembled against the top of his exposed head.

’Everything was calculated... Every risk he took, every strike he landed, all of it building toward that final moment...’

The sonic blink he’d revealed only at the end, the skill held back until the perfect opportunity.

’And for him to risk everything for this...’

The final realization settled like ice in his chest.

"Such planning... Such brilliance in misdirection... Such commitment to a single goal... Such complete and utter madness to risk death for it..."

His eyes found Damian’s standing form, seeing the human warrior in an entirely different light.

"You..."

The question formed, carrying weight that made the air itself feel heavier.

"Who are you? Are you the Chosen One of humanity?"

The rushing giant commanders were almost upon them now, their weapons drawn, ready to finish what their Chief had started.

But they were still meters away when Damian’s hand rose, fingers extending towards the sky.

His voice emerged from behind the damaged helmet, each word requiring enormous effort.

"I... am... Despair."

His fingers came together–

SNAP

–And the snapping sound cut across the battlefield like a gunshot.