The Path Of A True King.-Chapter 39: Lightning.

Chapter 78: Lightning

The air was thin and sharp up here.

The peak of the mountain stood still—untouched, wrapped in the arms of early afternoon light.

Golden rays cut through patches of lingering mist, casting streaks of warmth across the rocky terrain.

Birds circled overhead, wings wide and steady, before vanishing into the endless blue.

At the very top stood Elijah.

His arms folded behind his back, his long coat caught the wind and fluttered behind him like a battle flag.

His red eyes were locked on the world below—quiet, confident.

A small smile played on his lips, one born from peace and memory.

Just a few feet away, Tristan sat on a large log, his elbows resting lazily on his knees.

His hair was tied back, face turned toward the distant city that stretched out far beneath them.

He was calm on the outside, but in his eyes—fire. Restless, contained, but ready to burn.

"To think Kai would still listen to that crap—even now." Tristan chuckled, not looking away from the horizon.

Elijah shrugged. "Well, he reminded me of what I wanted most. And now that I look at it clearly... he’s always been there. Covering my back. Even when I was too weak to cover my own."

"I didn’t expect that," Tristan replied. "But it makes sense now. Why he’s so obsessed with you. You two don’t act like friends more like brothers."

Elijah smiled, nodding. "Obsessed, though? I dunno. Isn’t it normal to look out for your little bro?"

Tristan smirked. "Yeah, it is. So how about this—you mind having another big brother?"

Elijah burst into a chuckle, flashing a rare wide smile. "Yeah, why not. Let’s be together."

Tristan blinked. Then laughed. "That sounded weird as hell."

"Wait—nah, that came out wrong." Elijah raised a hand to explain, but Tristan waved him off.

"I know, bro. I get it." His expression softened. "Yeah, let’s stay together. We’re the only ones who really watch each other’s backs."

Elijah’s chest warmed.

The bond felt real—rooted. Unshakable.

Far below, near the base of the mountain, Dean stood beside a sleek black van parked just off a bend in the road.

The windows were tinted black, the kind that refused to reveal what lay within—or what watched from inside.

A hiss of steam rose from the radiator.

Dean leaned against the vehicle’s side, arms crossed, eyes on the ridge above.

His sleeves were rolled up, suit slightly rumpled from the drive.

His short red hair was windswept and wild, matching the sharpness in his red eyes.

Between his fingers, he flipped a silver coin, its metallic clinks echoing in the mountain silence.

Dean wasn’t the biggest—Jack and Ben had that title—but he wasn’t far behind.

Built like a bullet.

Compact. Lethal.

"What’s takin’ them so damn long?" he muttered to himself.

Then—

CRACK.

The sky split with a deafening boom.

Lightning—bright, electric blue—ripped through the air.

But it didn’t come from above. It came from the ground.

Dean’s head snapped up. "What the hell—?"

Before he could finish the thought, something—or someone—appeared.

A flash of light and raw speed, too fast for the eye to catch.

A figure materialized before him. A man.

Tall. Lean. Dressed in black, the fabric clinging to him like shadow.

A strange symbol glowed faintly on the sleeve of his right arm—the image of a dog, stylized and snarling.

His face was sharp, handsome, like it had been carved by a sculptor who hated flaws.

But his wild purple hair and glowing eyes told the truth.

Dean’s eyes widened. "You’re—"

"You red-hair types," the man interrupted, his voice cold, slick like frost.

"Always remind me of my annoying Vice Leader."

Then the sword came. Fast. Too fast.

A blade, long and thin, buzzed with living electricity.

It slashed through the air, aiming to cleave Dean in half.

Dean moved—but not fast enough.

The blade carved into his side, sending him crashing into the van.

Metal crunched under the impact.

He dropped to one knee, blood staining his side, his jacket scorched and torn.

"Elijah!" he roared, blood dripping from his lips.

Another flash.

Another strike.

Blood sprayed across the dirt as Dean collapsed, barely conscious.

Up above, Elijah and Tristan snapped to attention.

Tristan stood first. "Someone’s here."

Elijah’s red eyes narrowed.

His aura shifted.

His presence sharpened.

[The Monarch’s Activated]

Below them, the attacker began ascending the mountain path, each step slow, deliberate.

Sparks of lightning crackled in his wake, crawling across the rocks like living snakes.

His name echoed like myth: Xiniz.

A Stray Dog.

One of the deadliest.

A savage knight who had mastered elemental enhancement—lightning.

Those who controlled elements stood at the peak of the Intermediate Knight Stage.

Those who hadn’t unlocked their element? Inferior.

Lightning wasn’t just a power.

It was speed.

Raw destruction.

And Xiniz had control of it.

Elijah and Tristan stood shoulder to shoulder now, watching the man approach.

He didn’t hurry. He let them feel him. Let the tension build like the calm before a storm.

"Is that lightning around him?" Tristan whispered, his eyes narrowing.

Elijah nodded once and thought "First time we’ve seen it up close. Makes sense though. I can’t unlock the third stage of the Farming Breathing Technique without first buying the Elemental Control Technique."

The pieces were falling into place.

Xiniz reached the summit.

He stopped just a few feet away.

His stance looked casual, but beneath it—coiled energy.

Ki wrapped tight like a spring ready to snap.

"You’re Elijah, right?" he said. "The little punk who saved those kids."

"And you’re a mutt from the Stray Dogs," Elijah replied, voice sharp as glass.

Xiniz grinned. "So you do know me. Doesn’t matter. You played hero—and now you’re gonna lose two of your best."

He turned his gaze on Tristan.

"You poked the wrong pack," he said. "You really thought you could act like a gangster and get away with it? Please. Plenty of idiots thought the same. They all died. You’re next."

Tristan stepped forward. Calm. Unshaken. "You think we’re afraid to die?"

Xiniz didn’t blink. "You should be."

His sword crackled, lightning dancing across the blade.

"I’m not here to kill you yet, Elijah. That call belongs to the boss. But don’t make this harder than it needs to be."

[Zenith: Activated]

[Burst: Activated]

Elijah’s eyes blazed. He stepped forward, his aura shifting red—dense, furious.

"Enough talk. Show me what lightning really feels like."

The mountain went still.

Then—Xiniz moved.

He didn’t just dash.

He vanished.

The wind cracked behind him as he reappeared behind Tristan, blade raised to strike.

But Tristan was ready. Ki surged into his arm as he turned and met the sword head-on with a reinforced forearm.

BOOM.

The clash sent cracks spiderwebbing through the ground.

Elijah rushed in from the side, fast—but not as fast as Xiniz.

He struck with precision, fists glowing with power.

Xiniz dodged at the last second, backflipping away and landing in a crouch, boots sizzling with electricity.

"Two-on-one?" Xiniz smirked. "Now this is getting fun."

They charged.

Tristan moved like a storm—feints, spins, short bursts of brutal speed.

Elijah was the scalpel—precise, efficient, hitting where it hurt.

But Xiniz?

He was thunder and tide. He flowed like water, struck like lightning.

With a flick of his wrist, he arced through the air, blade crackling, and slammed it into the ground near Tristan.

KA-BOOM.

An explosion of lightning threw Tristan back, smoke and dirt clouding the air.

Elijah lunged, a fist laced with Ki.

He struck—solid.

But Xiniz blocked with his forearm, only sliding back slightly. Barely phased.

Their eyes locked.

Xiniz raised his sword to Elijah’s throat but didn’t strike.

"You’re stronger than I thought," he muttered. "Good. Makes it more fun when she finally gives the order to end you."