[Oliver’s PoV]

  “Well? Are we going to stand here talking… or is one of you going to let me take your head?”

  The Empress’s roar shattered the deadlock.

  She swung her massive sword, a weapon far too large to be that fast, with the casual ease of someone flicking a branch. The air itself screamed as the blade cut through it, the pressure wave alone strong enough to rattle the ground.

  Had Oliver been a fraction slower, the strike would have split him in half.

  [Observation]

  The world turned black and white.

  Every motion, every attack, every defense became visible to him. He could see the flow of her strikes before she made them, the subtle shifts in her stance that telegraphed her next attack.

  She swung again.

  Then again.

  A second strike. A third. A fourth.

  Each one faster, heavier, deadlier than the last. Her sword tore through the air, the shockwaves rippling across the battlefield like miniature explosions.

  But now, as [King], there was nothing she could do that he couldn’t read.

  Every arc of her blade, every change in momentum, every subtle shift of her stance unfolded before him like the pages of a book.

  As long as he wasn’t exhausted, and as long as he was faster, he could avoid her.

  He slipped under one swing, twisted away from another.

  But there was a problem.

  The Boon didn’t work on two targets at once.

  He could read the Empress, predict her every move, but that left him vulnerable to the other enemy.

  And Stewart wasn’t standing idle.

  Oliver had seen countless Ranger weapons in his life. Most of them were lances, swords, and pistols. Yet, in some rare cases, they could be more sophisticated weapons, such as a bow, tonfa, or rapier. However, what Stewart used went even beyond the unusual.

  It was savage. Unpredictable.

  A chain weapon running the full length of Stewart’s arm and trailing across the ground like a serpent. At the end of it swung a spiked orb, massive and brutal.

  Every movement Stewart made was confusing and chaotic.

  The chain hissed and snapped through the air, the spiked orb whirling in violent arcs. One moment, it was sweeping low across the ground, kicking up dust and debris; the next, it was carving through the air at impossible angles.

  With a single pull, he could change direction mid-swing.

  Oliver ducked beneath one strike, the orb grazing the top of his armor with a screech of tearing metal. Sparks exploded across his visor. He twisted, rolled, and avoided a second swing that shattered the concrete where he’d stood a second before.

  The Empress attacked from the other side, her massive sword cleaving through the space between them. The shockwave from her strike collided with Stewart’s, creating a storm of dust and light that rattled the ruins around them.

  Oliver moved fast, but even then, he could feel the pressure mounting.

  Two opponents. Both lethal. Both relentless.

  He pivoted, using his arms to redirect a blow from the Empress’s blade, then leapt back as Stewart’s chain came whirling toward him again.

  The sound it made was deafening, a metallic shriek, followed by the deep whump of displaced air as the spiked orb tore through space.

  And finally, it hit him.

  The impact was cataclysmic.

  The orb slammed into his chest, the spikes biting into his armor before detonating with a burst of kinetic force. The blow launched him off his feet like a ragdoll, the world spinning around him.

  He crashed through the side of a half-collapsed building, his body smashing through walls and support beams before finally slamming to a stop in a cloud of dust and rubble.

  For a moment, everything went silent.

  The only thing that remained was the pain. A deep, pulsing ache spread through his ribs.

  Oliver groaned, pushing himself up through the debris. Dust and gravel slid from his armor as he staggered to his feet, his breathing steady but heavy.

  “Shit,” he muttered, shaking his head as bits of concrete fell from his shoulders.

  He wasn’t panicking. Not yet.

  That hit had hurt, but he was far from done.

  He flexed his fingers, feeling the Energy spread once more.

  I can’t let them both focus on me.

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  Oliver’s thoughts were sharp, precise, already focused on what he needed to do.

  If she’s using that armor the same way the other Orks do, it’s only a matter of time before it starts to drain her. Especially if she’s channeling a Unique Crystal.

  He glanced around, assessing his position. He’d crashed into the upper floors of a half-destroyed skyscraper. The wind howled through the shattered windows.

  Oliver didn’t hesitate.

  He bent his knees and hurled himself off the edge.

  The air screamed past him as he dropped dozens of meters in a heartbeat. Adjusting [Prometheus] to reinforce his legs, he braced for impact.

  He struck the ground with brutal force. A shockwave rippled outward, sending dust and debris exploding into the air.

  Before the smoke could clear, he was already moving.

  Oliver darted forward, his twin daggers gleaming in his hands. He aimed for the Empress’s back, her focus locked on Stewart.

  It was a calculated move. Keep distance from the White Ranger, force the two of them to fight each other, and strike when the opportunity presents itself.

  His blades flashed, carving through the air in blinding arcs.

  The Empress turned in time to block the first strike with her massive blade, sparks cascading between them. Her strength was monstrous; even through his armor, Oliver could feel the impact's shock reverberate through his bones.

  He twisted away before she could counter, sliding behind her again.

  He couldn’t match either of them in raw power, not with the Blue Crystal. However, precision was all he needed.

  When he channeled [Prometheus] to its maximum, he could go toe-to-toe with them for a few seconds, but that wasn’t the plan.

  He didn’t need power. He needed timing.

  The Empress swung her sword at Stewart, their blades colliding in a shockwave. He saw his opening.

  Oliver darted in low, his movements a blur. His first strike cut across the back of her leg—shallow, but enough to make her stumble.

  “Vermin!” she roared, spinning, her blade slicing through the air where he’d been a moment before.

  He was already gone.

  Another opening, another cut.

  Her armor sparked, the orange glow flickering where his dagger had pierced the joint.

  “Coward!” she snarled, her voice shaking the ground.

  Oliver didn’t respond. He was already moving again, weaving through like a phantom. Every time she turned toward him, Stewart pressed his attack, forcing her to divide her focus. Every time she turned toward Stewart, Oliver struck again.

  A third slash.

  This one found its mark, cutting deep, slicing through the gap beneath her armor. A burst of black blood sprayed across the ground.

  The Empress froze, her breath catching, her molten eyes flaring with rage.

  “You think that will work on me?!” she bellowed, her voice booming like thunder.

  Oliver landed a few meters away, his blades still gleaming with her blood. He straightened, his expression calm, almost amused.

  “It seems to be working just fine,” he said, a grin spreading across his face.

  The moment Oliver finished speaking, the Empress moved.

  She turned toward him for the briefest heartbeat, her eyes locking onto his, and then with a roar of power, she hurled her greatsword.

  The massive blade spun through the air like a comet, its orange glow cutting through the haze of smoke and fire.

  He barely had time to react.

  Instinct took over. He twisted to the side, the sword slicing past him. The weapon embedded itself somewhere behind him with a thunderous crash, sending shards of rubble flying.

  But she didn’t follow up.

  Instead, the Empress turned her attention back to Stewart, her focus unwavering, as if she had completely abandoned her weapon.

  Oliver frowned, his breath steady but his instincts screaming.

  That’s not right.

  Someone like her, someone who fought with precision and fury in equal measure, would never throw away her weapon so carelessly.

  What is she—

  He raised his arms on reflex, reinforcing his guard.

  He kept his eyes open, scanning the field, searching for movement—

  Then he saw it.

  A flicker. A streak of light in the distance.

  The sword.

  It was coming back.

  The massive blade wasn’t lying where it had fallen. It was flying, cutting through the air like a guided missile, spinning end over end.

  It was returning to her.

  Or rather—to him.

  Oliver’s eyes widened.

  “Shit.”

  There was no time.

  He braced himself, crossing his arms in front of his chest as the blade hit.

  The impact was like being struck by a meteor. The force of the blow slammed him backward, his boots carving trenches through the earth until he crashed into a half-collapsed wall.

  For a moment, he thought he might hold it.

  Yet, pain flashed through his arms as the sword’s edge sliced through his armor, leaving a thin, burning line across his forearm. The armor sealed almost instantly, but the sting was sharp.

  The sword tore free, spinning away into the air before looping back toward its master like a predator returning to its den.

  Oliver lowered his arms slowly, his breathing steady, but his pulse hammering in his ears.

  He looked up in time to see the Empress catch her blade mid-spin, the weapon locking seamlessly back into her grip.

  “You’re quick, little human,” she said, smiling. “But not enough.”

  Oliver flexed his fingers, feeling the ache in his arms subside. The faint cut still burned, a line of pain that reminded him of exactly what he was up against.

  At least things must be going better for Stewart, Oliver thought.

  But the moment he spared a glance toward the White Ranger, he knew he was wrong.

  The Empress was a force of nature. An apex predator wrapped in armor and rage, every movement radiating raw, destructive power. She wasn’t just strong; she was relentless, her every action precise and brutal.

  Stewart looked small beside her.

  Even his weapon, the massive chain and spiked orb, seemed almost pathetic in comparison, a child’s toy against a barbarian.

  He swung it anyway.

  The chain whirled through the air, arcs of Energy trailing from its path as Stewart built momentum.

  Then he let it fly.

  The weapon screamed through the air, slicing through smoke and flame, aimed straight for the Empress’s chest.

  The impact should have been catastrophic.

  But she didn’t even flinch.

  The Empress pivoted her massive frame and met the attack head-on.

  Her fist slammed into the center of the orb with a single, thunderous blow.

  The result was instantaneous.

  The collision produced a shockwave so powerful that it shattered the windows of the surrounding ruins. The air itself seemed to split apart, the force rippling outward in concentric rings that blasted through the plaza.

  Oliver instinctively raised his arm to shield his visor as debris tore past him.

  I need more power. This alone won’t be enough to deal with her.

  [Synchronization Status]

  The HUD flickered, recalculating.

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