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Murmurs of disbelief and fear began to spread like wildfire through the crowd.

Elio, feeling the pressure of hundreds of eyes upon him, clenched his fists. Anger boiled within him, not just at Fathoran's words, but at the truth they contained. He had hoped to address this issue differently, in a time and place of his choosing.

Now, that choice had been ripped away from him.

"Is that your pathetic excuse?" Elio roared, his voice charged with fury that echoed off the walls. "Is that why we should bow our heads while you hoard all the resources and prevent us from advancing? Your way of acting is what led us to this in the first place!"

Elio took a step forward, his armor gleaming in the dim light, a physical manifestation of his resolve. "Hundreds of women with rotating stays in your family's harem to produce children as if there were no tomorrow! Forty years ago, the wall's army was more than double what it is now. Lucien told me, you damned hypocrite!"

Fathoran, far from being intimidated, let out a laugh that chilled the blood of those present. It was a sound devoid of joy, filled instead with contempt and madness.

"It's necessary! God willed it so! My descendants, my family is what will unite this city. The rest are just extras!"

With those last words, Fathoran launched his devastating combo. The spheres of wind and ice collided in the air, creating an explosion of shards that advanced towards the trapped crowd.

Fathoran Mana: 32

Elio, reacting on instinct, extended his hands. A carbon barrier began to form in front of the soldiers, but it was evident that it wouldn't be enough to stop Fathoran's attack.

Elio Mana: 32

Something wasn't right.

The control he felt over the element wasn't as fluid, as natural as when he had eliminated Fathoran's descendants. The sensation of absolute power he had experienced then eluded him now.

Lucien and Selene, comprehending the gravity of the situation, united their forces with Elio's. Their swifts created air currents that attempted to deflect the attack, their faces etched with determination and concern.

Lucien-Selene Mana : 31

In his desperation to protect others, Elio neglected his own defense. Fragments of sharp ice impacted against his body and his System's Armor. Elio felt an acute pain pierce his face, but he stood firm, refusing to fall.

Elio: 548 - 25 crit = 25 Resistance / 478 Armor Resistance.

The System's Armor, responding to the damage, immediately began its healing process. Small particles of light danced around Elio's wounds, gradually closing them.

Still, the pain persisted, a constant reminder of the cost of his compassion.

The barrier Elio managed to create barely covered a few dozen soldiers.

The rest were exposed to Fathoran's devastating attack. Screams of pain filled the air as many fell wounded. Some, injured in the first attack, lost their lives instantly.

Elio felt anger growing within him, fueled by the frustration of his own failure and Fathoran's cruelty. With clenched fists and a tense jaw, he addressed his adversary.

"Stop playing with the city's people, Fathoran!" he shouted, his voice laden with rage and desperation. "Don't you always talk about family? The city is your community, isn't that almost a family? You'll have an enormous descendance soon anyway. A large part of the city will be your blood family."

Fathoran, far from showing remorse, let out a laugh that resonated throughout the enclosure. His eyes shone with amusement and disdain.

"So for you, the entire city is a family?" he asked, his voice dripping with mockery. "Hahaha! What a naive and ridiculous concept."

Fathoran's laughter seemed to mock not just Elio, but everyone present. All cringed at the sound, feeling the weight of his contempt.

Elio, still surrounded by the groans of the wounded and the terrified silence of the survivors, turned to see the damage caused.

Fathoran, perceiving Elio's distraction, saw his opportunity.

With a fluid movement, he began to draw 5 of the 10 daggers from his belt. The blades shone with a sinister glow, imbued with a power-enhancing combo.

Fathoran Mana: 27

With a brusque gesture, he launched the daggers towards Elio.

Elio, still recovering from his wounds and distracted by the soldiers' situation, barely had time to react.

Lucien used his swift to reposition Elio.

Lucien Mana: 30

But the daggers didn't fly in a straight line. Using his magnetic control, Fathoran guided the daggers in unpredictable trajectories, zigzagging in the air and accelerating to dizzying speeds.

Fathoran Mana: 26

Elio managed to dodge the next two daggers with Selene's help and pure instinct, but the third buried itself in his shoulder, cutting through the armor as if it were butter.

Elio: 503 - 25 crit = 1 Resistance / 457 Armor Resistance.

Selene Mana: 30

"Elio!" Lucien shouted, but was forced to retreat when another dagger passed dangerously close to him.

Elio spun, trying to keep all the daggers in sight, but it was an impossible task.

Selene and Lucien repositioned him, but Fathoran's daggers were often faster.

Two, three, six impacts. Each cut burned like liquid fire.

Lucien-Selene Mana : 24

Fathoran Mana: 19

Elio: 458 - 225 = 1 Resistance / 233 Armor Resistance.

Fathoran, with a cruel smile, manipulated the daggers with mastery. He made them spin and turn, attacking Elio from all possible angles. It was as if he were playing with his prey, demonstrating the difference in experience and control.

Fathoran activated his other 5 daggers.

Fathoran Mana: 14

With a movement of his hand, all the daggers converged on Elio from all directions.

Fathoran Mana: 12

In that critical moment, as the daggers approached at lethal speed, Elio closed his eyes. Not out of fear, but in concentration.

That sensation returned, the carbon responded better when Elio was…

Made of rage.

Elio abruptly raised his arms and ten stakes simulating the fingers of his hands appeared around him. But they weren't formed just of carbon; veins of something bright ran through their bodies.

The 10 daggers were caught in each of Elio's new weaponised fingers.