Path of the Unmentioned: The Missing Piece-Chapter 107: The Manic One [4]

The cultist’s fingers dug into Kyle’s wrist like steel claws.

His grip was crushing. Unrelenting. Kyle’s bones creaked under the pressure, and pain shot up his arm like a streak of fire.

But Kyle didn’t care.

He gritted his teeth, eyes blazing with fury, and gathered what little mana he had left.

Lightning surged.

A burst of blue energy exploded from his palm. Hitting the cultist square in the face.

The jolt made the cultist flinch.

His grip loosened, just enough.

Kyle yanked his wrist free and didn’t waste a second. He stepped in, raising Zalrielle high, and stabbed with everything he had.

The blade crackled with lightning, glowing along its edge.

The cultist tried to twist away. But not fast enough.

The blade sliced across his side, tearing through layers of leather and skin. A deep line opened across his ribs.

Blood welled up and dripped onto the floor.

The man’s expression darkened. His eyes narrowed, and the playful light inside them flickered out.

"You," he growled, voice low and sharp, "are annoying."

Then he drove his fist straight into Kyle’s ribs.

CRACK.

Pain exploded through Kyle’s chest. The punch hit like a hammer, lifting him off his feet.

He flew back and slammed into the train wall.

Metal bent with a heavy clang as his back hit it. The breath was knocked out of him. His lungs burned, and blood filled his mouth.

He didn’t even get the chance to slide down.

Because the cultist was already there.

Moving like a shadow.

Dagger flashing.

Kyle raised Zalrielle just in time.

CLANG!

The impact rattled through his arms. His muscles screamed. His burned legs nearly gave out beneath him.

But the cultist didn’t stop.

A knee slammed into Kyle’s gut. Folding him over.

His vision pulsed red.

Then came the second dagger. A quick, shallow slice across Kyle’s shoulder.

Not deep. But sharp. Burning.

Like acid.

Kyle gasped. Stumbling sideways. Struggling to breathe.

He tried to raise his sword.

Too slow.

The cultist lunged again, and this time. He struck true.

The dagger plunged into Kyle’s side. Just under the ribs.

Not a killing blow.

A hurting blow.

Kyle’s eyes widened.

Pain flared through his body.

But he didn’t cry out.

He clenched his jaw. Grabbed the cultist’s wrist with his free hand, and pushed.

BZZZT!

Lightning exploded from his palm at point-blank range.

The cultist jerked violently as electricity surged through him. His body locked up. Smoke curled from the edges of his coat, rising in wisps.

Kyle didn’t wait.

He reached down. Grabbed the handle of the dagger still stuck in his side, and ripped it free.

Then, with a roar. He swung Zalrielle in a wide arc.

But the cultist recovered too fast.

Faster than Kyle expected.

He ducked under the slash—

And slammed his forehead into Kyle’s face.

CRUNCH.

Kyle’s nose broke instantly. Pain exploded behind his eyes. Blood poured from his nostrils, hot and thick.

His vision swam.

Everything turned blurry.

The cultist straightened. Wiping a smear of his own blood from the corner of his mouth.

Then he smiled again.

That cold, cruel smile.

"Four affinities," he mused, voice soft and mocking. "And you are still losing."

His voice was low, almost amused, but beneath it. Something darker stirred, frustration, maybe.

He stepped closer, dagger raised. Eyes locked on Kyle like a predator about to make the final kill.

Then—

A shadow lashed out from the side.

Thin. Weak. But fast.

It wrapped around his ankle like a whip and pulled just enough to throw him off-balance.

The cultist hissed and jerked his foot back. Twisting to break the hold.

Eleanora stood a few feet away, legs shaking, barely able to stay upright. Her estoc was gone.

Her hair clung to her face, soaked with sweat and blood.

Her hands trembled violently. But her eyes... Her eyes were defiant flames in a broken body.

She raised one glowing hand.

"[Light Bind]," she whispered, voice barely audible.

A narrow beam of golden light shot out. Thin, almost fragile. But it hit the cultist square in the eyes.

He flinched. Throwing an arm up to shield himself.

His mistake.

Kyle didn’t need more than that.

He moved.

Zalrielle responded like it had been waiting. Humming. Pulsing. Crackling in his grip.

All four elements surged at once.

Blue-white lightning danced along the blade. Sparking bright and wild.

Ice spread across the edge. Frost crystalizing in sharp, deadly layers.

Wind gathered behind the strike. Blasting forward with a sudden burst, making Kyle faster. Faster than he’d ever been.

Water followed. A razor-thin film that sharpened the sword’s edge to its absolute limit.

The metal floor buckled under his feet as Kyle lunged.

The cultist turned. Too late.

The blade came down.

He twisted at the last second. Trying to avoid a fatal blow.

He didn’t succeed.

Zalrielle sank deep into his shoulder. Slicing through leather, muscle, and bone.

SHHHHHK.

Blood sprayed across the floor.

The cultist let out a breathless, choked laugh. It wasn’t pain this time. It was disbelief.

Then his hand shot out like a viper.

And closed around Kyle’s throat.

His fingers tightened like iron.

"Enough," the cultist snarled.

Then he slammed Kyle into the floor.

WHAM.

And again.

CRACK.

The metal floor bent beneath the force of the impact.

The cultist raised his dagger high. Ready to drive it into Kyle’s chest—

And that’s when Eleanora moved.

She didn’t think. She just ran.

She had no weapon.

No magic left.

Only her fists and sheer desperation.

She launched herself at the cultist with a scream and slammed her fist into the side of his face.

It barely made his head turn.

The cultist didn’t even look at her.

He just swung his arm, and backhanded her like she was nothing.

Smack.

Her body hit the ground hard. Her head bounced once. Blood smeared across her lip.

She didn’t move.

The cultist turned back to Kyle.

He raised the dagger again—

And then he stopped.

Something was wrong.

His head snapped up.

A sound.

A roar.

From above.

BOOOOOOM!

The train’s roof exploded.

A violent burst of noise and force tore it apart. Shards of metal rained down like shrapnel.

And through the smoke and debris—

Something dropped.

No—someone.

A blur of motion.

A figure slammed down through the hole with a roar of force and fury.

A boot struck the cultist square in the chest.

CRACK.

The cultist was launched backward. Flying across the car and skidding along the floor in a heap of broken movement.

Dust filled the air.

Sparks danced from torn wires above.

Silence, thick and sudden, followed.

Kyle blinked.

Blood filled his mouth. His body screamed in pain.

He blinked again. Dazed. Trying to focus—

———