The First Men Chronicles

Chapter 46: The Hunter and the Serpent

Draven halted his movement, gripping the hilt of his Jörmungandr Shirasaya Blade tightly as he narrowed his gaze at Boris. The icy wind of Nagurskoye howled around them, carrying a chilling silence between the warriors.

Then, he spoke, his voice low and dangerous.

"What do you mean by those powers again?"

Boris smirked, his towering 7.5-foot frame shifting slightly, the wind curling around his boots like an obedient hound.

"There was another… a man I fought who bore the same eyes as you different but same," he said, tilting his head.

"He was with the Travelers."

Draven's eyes flickered with intensity. The Travelers?

"Who are they?" he demanded, gripping his sword even tighter.

Boris simply shrugged,

"A rogue band. Warriors who abandoned their nations, cast out like dogs. Some were monsters in their own right. But… they're Hero of the world so they call them" he let out a slow breath, watching Draven's expression closely,

"You and him… you look alike."

Draven's face darkened immediately. The subtle tension in his jaw, the silent storm brewing within his eyes it was all there, clear as day. Then, a smirk curled up on his lips.

"You keep hunting me… haunting me… no matter where I go, I fucking get to hear your disgusting name,I must end you. And end all of this… once and for all."

The ground cracked apart beneath his feet—BOOM!—as he blurred out of sight. The sheer force of his launch sent shards of ice and stone flying as he appeared high above Boris, his blade already mid-swing, cutting through the frozen air like a guillotine.

FWOOOOOSH!

Boris' reflexes were razor-sharp. With a swift motion, he conjured a spiraling gust of wind beneath his feet, using it as propulsion to launch himself sideways, narrowly avoiding the deadly arc of Draven's attack. The moment Draven's blade connected with the ground—

KRRRRRRSHHHHHH!

A massive rupture split through the ice-covered terrain, jagged cracks splintering outward. Snow and rock erupted from the impact, but Draven didn't stop. His fingers twirled the hilt of his katana like a seasoned swordsman, hurling it from left to right before gripping it once more.

Then—FWOOOM!—he lunged at Boris with lightning speed.

Boris reacted immediately. His cheeks swelled before he suddenly expelled a massive surge of pressurized water from his mouth—

"Hydro Cannon: Torrential Spiral!"

A devastating wave of crystal clear water roared forth, colliding with Draven mid-air—SLAAASH!—stopping him dead in his tracks. The sheer force sent him reeling backward, the water twisting and contorting like a living entity. Before he could counter, the liquid coiled around his body, spiraling into a perfect spherical prison of water, suspending him mid-air.

SPLASH! WHOOSH!

Draven remained eerily still inside, his All-Creation Eyes glowing dimly through the aquatic sphere. He was drowning. But his anger burned stronger than his fading breath.

Boris exhaled sharply, watching the young warrior struggle.

"Kids these days…"

he muttered.

From the sidelines, Kenzy and Gansu exchanged a glance.

"We have to move now." Kenzy's voice was sharp.

"I'll distract him. You get Draven out."

Without hesitation—BOOM!—they both vanished from their positions.

Kenzy raced forward like a phantom, his body twisting and his arms morphing into a nest of enormous, writhing serpents.

"Multi-Serpent Strike!"

His **snakes lashed out from all directions—**left, right, above—aiming to constrict, bite, and poison Boris.

Boris, unfazed, raised his hand and spun his fingers—a raging vortex of wind instantly surrounded him.

FWOOOOOSH!

The incoming snakes were ripped apart on contact, their heads severed by the razor-sharp wind barrier.

Meanwhile, Gansu had already reached the water prison. His hands, coated in a black venomous aura, pressed against the swirling prison.

"Corrosive Touch: Poison Surge!"

SIZZLE!

A sickly hiss filled the air as the poison saturated into the prison, disrupting its structure. The water bubbled and darkened—until—

BOOOOOM!—The sphere exploded apart, freeing Draven, who fell to the ground, coughing out water.

Kenzy, retreating from Boris' wind defenses, extended his snakes to grab both Draven and Gansu, yanking them away to safety.

Boris lowered his wind wall, smirking.

"Interesting…" he mused.

"You recovered so fast. That snake… it healed you, didn't it?"

Gansu didn't respond. His wounds were already fading. Boris had figured out the trick.

Draven coughed one last time before standing up straight. His hand tightened around his sword once more, the cold steel pressing against his palm. His face was blank, but his rage was boiling.

"I didn't ask for your help," he growled.

Kenzy scoffed, wiping his mouth.

"You were drowning, idiot."

"I didn't." Draven repeated, this time with more venom.

He adjusted his coat, the wind billowing through it as he stepped forward, past Kenzy and Gansu, towards Boris.

His sword floated into the air, hovering mid-way between them.

Then—his eyes pulsed.

"Jörmungandr Shirasaya Blade Style: Strike."

The floating sword shot forward at Boris.