The Mystic Life Fruit
"Steffan, the car is ready!"
The voice was raspy and laced with frantic urgency as it boomed throughout the shattered hall.
Absolute silence fell like a pall over the once grand space.
The room was a picture of chaos and devastation, blood in rivulets on the marble floor, and a sickening stench of it filled the air. Every single gaze was directed toward the sprawled figure on the floor. Steffan.
Blood bloomed across his body like gruesome flowers on his torn clothes, pool slowly growing around him.
The man’s manhood was the cause, mutilated beyond all measure that he had already turned to a trembling, pallid wreck with cold sweat beading on his brow.
"He... he’s..." stammered the woman at the front of the crowd.
No one dared utter a sound; the words would not come. Shame that bordered on pain twisted their faces, their hearts clenched like a fist as they observed their commander rendered utterly powerless and humbled on the cracked marble floor.
"Commander..." uttered one of the burly males before he coughed nervously.
"How... how is this possible?"
one asked, head bowed low. A woman cried and pressed her palms to her mouth and looked away from Steffan.
Even the hardened veterans were chilled to the bone, their faces stark.
A tense, agonizing moment passed.
Then, "Steffan! The car is ready!"
White Ghost burst through the shattered doors, his breath ragged as he ran his fastest. As his eyes fell upon Steffan- His blood ran cold. His pupil had narrowed; he had seen his commander be grievously wounded, his body slashed and hacked, but never has he seen him so utterly debilitated, such a helpless shell on the ground.
His clothing had been shredded to nothing by so many and his body, punctured as though from spears, was caked with his own blood. And the wound to his manhood... It made his face ashen as the tight grip of his fist made the knuckles on his fingers crack as his eyes turned bloodshot.
"Commander..." White Ghost voice broke and a wave of helplessness, guilty and rage hit him simultaneously. Without delay, he lunged forward and landed softly beside him.
"Easy... easy..."
Hands trembling, he reached out his arms, gently resting it around Steffan’s battered, broken body. "I am here."
Steffan inhaled sharply, breaths so ragged it sounded like suffering, pain tearing through every fibre of his broken being. He gritted his teeth though, his expression was a mask of grim determination rather than surrender, but a scream did escape his throat that tore at White Ghost’s heart.
"I... I am sorry," whispered White Ghost in his head as he swallowed. "I got here too late."
Steffan’sbloodied head raised his bloodied head slowly towards him. His eye balls were dull with agony but his voice still retained an unnatural even tone, "Do... not... waste... time."
White Ghost nodded grimly, taking most of Steffan’s weight upon his shoulders. Carefully he helped Steffan to his feet before guiding him toward the bike parked outside the villa. Blood was smearing itself onto the marble with each painful step that Steffan took.
"You think you can walk away?" Lina Ashford stepped forward with murder in her eyes, her gaze locked onto Steffan. "After all of this?"
"You still want to run?"
Liza Voss moved at the same instant.
Her twin blades glimmered beneath the mansion lights as a cold smile spread across her face.
"Not happening."
"Stop them!"
The two women shot forward together like arrows released from a bow.
White Ghost slowly inhaled.
Instead of panic...
An unexpected calm settled over him.
For the first time...
He finally understood what his elder brother had meant all those years ago.
There were moments when survival no longer mattered.
Moments when the only thing worth protecting was the person who had always stood in front of you.
Someone had to stay behind.
Someone had to buy time.
Even if the price...
...was their own life.
White Ghost looked at Steffan one last time.
A faint smile appeared on his bloodstained face.
"Commander..."
He slowly released his grip.
"...Go."
"I’ll hold them off."
His voice was low but unwavering.
Without hesitation, he pulled a tiny capsule from his pocket.
He bit it open and swallowed its contents in one gulp.
Almost immediately, veins bulged across his arms, and a violent aura erupted from his body as the medicine forcefully pushed his combat power beyond its normal limits.
"Come!"
White Ghost roared.
"I’ll stop every one of you!"
He threw himself directly at Lina and Liza, forcing them to halt their pursuit.
Steffan’s bloodshot eyes lingered on him for only a heartbeat.
He hated retreating.
As the Martial Art King of the Farlands, fleeing from battle was the greatest humiliation imaginable.
But remaining here...
Would only lead to certain death.
Just then, the strange sensation caused by the Chaos Mirage Mist finally disappeared.
His body instantly returned to normal.
Without wasting another second, he twisted the motorcycle’s throttle.
VROOOOM!
The motorcycle exploded forward like a black arrow, tearing through the Ashbourne family’s gates and disappearing into the night.
As he sped away, Steffan clenched the handlebars so tightly that his knuckles turned white.
His eyes burned with hatred.
"White Ghost..."
"When I return..."
"I swear I’ll avenge you."
His vow echoed silently within his heart as the motorcycle vanished into the darkness.
In his desperate escape, however, a small crimson box slipped unnoticed from inside his clothes.
It bounced across the stone floor.
Steffan never noticed.
Julian D’Aurelius did.
His golden eyes immediately caught the movement.
"Hm?"
He walked over, bent down, and picked up the crimson box.
"What did our fleeing hero leave behind?"
Curious, he opened it.
Inside rested a magnificent golden fruit.
It was roughly the size of a dragon fruit, yet its surface shimmered with a faint golden glow.
Ancient cloud-like patterns flowed naturally across its skin as though carved by heaven itself.
A refreshing fragrance drifted from the fruit the instant the box was opened.
The aroma was rich yet gentle, making everyone nearby feel refreshed.
Julian stared at it for several seconds.
Then recognition flashed across his face.
"A Mystic Life Fruit."
He immediately remembered its origin.
This treasure had originally appeared during the middle stages of the original storyline.
After being discovered by one of the Obsidian Wing organization’s old monsters, it had eventually been delivered to the Obsidian King to strengthen his cultivation.
With the fruit’s help, Evan had advanced from the Gold Realm’s early stage to the middle stage in a single breakthrough.
Now, with Evan no longer part of the story’s course...
The treasure had unexpectedly fallen into Steffan’s hands.
And after today’s battle...
It had become Julian D’Aurelius’s prize instead.
Julian gently weighed the fruit in his palm.
A satisfied smile slowly spread across his face.
"Damn..."
"This is good stuff."