Ragnarök, Eternal Tragedy.
Chapter 105: No more or less

Chapter 105: No more or less

Maverick shifted, blood trailing down the side of his jaw, eyes locked on the man wrapped in flame. His grip stayed firm on the Bastion Blade, but something in his stance said it clear.

He didn’t need Amari here.

"Go," Maverick said, voice low but steady. "Find Milo’s clone. Secure the girl. We’ll hold this."

Amari hesitated only for a breath.

Then he turned and ran, boots hitting scorched tile, vanishing through the breach in the corridor wall. No words. No questions. Just movement.

The firestorm roared behind him.

Johnny’s Position – Southern Corridor

The world snapped sideways—again.

Osric’s Unco, Judgment Pulse, had fully awakened. Runes glowed down both arms, spiraling from shoulders to palms in lines that shimmered with scarlet authority. Every breath he took now carried weight like it had passed through law.

Johnny spit blood into the dirt and rolled to his feet.

Osric stepped forward. Each impact of his foot sent cracks through the stone, as if the ground itself acknowledged his righteousness.

"You’ve stolen from the innocent," Osric growled. "Dragged a child from her home, for coin and cause you don’t even believe in."

Johnny twirled his daggers once. "Didn’t realize I had to believe in the job to stab someone properly."

Osric slammed both palms together.

The corridor shattered outward in a ripple of red-lit force. Johnny dashed sideways, barely clearing the blast radius. His foot hit a wall, rebounded—strike aimed for Osric’s flank.

But Osric turned with him. The moment the blade got close—

WHAM.

Another pulse. The kinetic burst sent Johnny hurtling down the hall.

Osric walked calmly after him, unbothered, robes trailing like judgment unrolled.

Shylo – North Hall

Kael staggered back, cracks splitting through the obsidian armor layered over his skin. His breathing sharpened.

Then his Unco awakened.

Spikes bloomed from his spine. Plates shifted mid-step. His form blurred—not through speed, but instability. His limbs kept changing, bone and muscle in flux. A jagged mouth opened in his shoulder as his eyes bled red.

Shylo raised a bloodied fist. One eye already closed from the last impact.

Kael growled.

"You should’ve stayed in the dark where you belong."

Then he charged again—this time, each step splitting the floor. Shylo disappeared between shadows, reappearing behind him—but Kael’s neck stretched mid-strike, catching him off-guard.

This wasn’t a fight anymore.

This was a nightmare learning how to move.

Kenneth – Lower Level

Kenneth stood over the crater where Cyneth had fallen. His fists steamed.

He turned slowly.

And saw the man rise again.

Cyneth’s arms trembled. His fingers pressed together in the air.

Then space folded.

A ripple of impossible geometry rolled through the room like someone dragging time through glass. The space behind Cyneth twisted into spirals, and his robes lifted from the ground.

"Flowstate, elevated."

His eyes lost their pupils.

And time, for a moment, stopped blinking.

Kenneth grinned. "Round two."

All across the checkpoint, the defenders had stopped fighting.

They were awakened.

The village hadn’t just come for its princess.

It had come with everything it had left.

The air across the ruined checkpoint had thickened—charged with power, grief, and memory. All three village warriors had awakened. Their Uncos no longer flickered—they surged. But the Ocean brothers?

They held their lines like the sea facing storm.

Johnny vs. Osric

Osric moved like a living verdict, each step hammering force through the ground. His pulses had grown sharper—no longer just waves, but precision shock-bursts, pinpointed to punish every opening Johnny gave.

He wasn’t missing anymore. He was choosing.

Johnny ducked beneath a blast aimed for his chest, vaulted off a broken wall, and hurled a blade mid-spin. Osric raised his arm, and the judgment rune on his skin detonated the blade mid-flight.

"No more running," Osric said flatly. "No more smirking behind blood."

Johnny hit the ground on a roll, shoulder first. Came up with one dagger glowing, the other chipped.

"I’m not running. I’m just dancing out of range."

He stomped once. Time twisted for a second and a half—long enough to slide behind Osric and land two cuts across his robes.

Osric didn’t flinch. Instead, he turned and unleashed a pulse directly into Johnny’s chest. The blast hit like a memory being weaponized.

Johnny flew back, bounced once—coughed hard.

But he got up again.

Bloodied, breathing heavy, daggers loose at his sides.

Still smiling.

Shylo vs. Kael

Kael had fully mutated now. His Unco made his body a warform of shifting armor and sinew—his limbs stretching mid-strike, plating thickening where Shylo struck most.

Every hit that should’ve dropped him just reshaped him.

Shylo teleported low, drove a punch into Kael’s ribs. The bone folded inward—then split, shifted, and reformed into jagged shell. A spike nearly took Shylo’s eye.

Kael lunged, grabbing Shylo by the arm with a clawed hand.

"You’re not the only one who adapts."

Then he twisted.

Shylo hissed, phased into shadow, and tore his arm free just before the joint snapped.

He reappeared atop a beam, hand shaking.

Kael crawled along the wall beneath him, like gravity was an option.

"Your body changes," Shylo called down, "but your fear stays the same."

Kael growled.

And leapt—mouth in his chest opening wide.

Shylo vanished mid-dive.

Reappeared behind. Kicked him into a column.

He exhaled.

Still alive.

But Kael wasn’t slowing.

Kenneth vs. Cyneth

Cyneth was levitating now, his Flowstate Unco distorting the room around him in perfect arcs. Angled time bends spun around his limbs, deflecting direct attacks before they landed.

But Kenneth had never relied on clean hits.

He slammed both fists into the ground, and the resulting shockburst cracked the room in two. Fire hissed up through his gauntlets—white-hot now, gold-etched runes flaring.

Cyneth dodged left—flowing between seconds—but Kenneth anticipated the bend.

He redirected his next punch not at Cyneth—but at the space he would land in.

The shockwave met him mid-air. Cyneth twisted, caught himself on a slant of space, rolled along a folded axis, landed with a stagger.

"You brute," he hissed. "You don’t even know how to calculate victory—"

"I don’t have to," Kenneth growled, voice shredded from heat. "I just turn it into pressure."

The next punch missed—but barely.

Cyneth was panting now.

Still in control.

But less than before.