Utopian System

The stake in Elio's heart clattered to the ground, but it seemed too late.

Elio's eyes flew open, only to witness the final moment of his life.

Fathoran's sword blade gleamed with deadly intent as it descended towards Elio's neck. Time appeared to slow, each fraction of a second stretching into eternity. Elio's eyes, newly opened and still clouded with pain, barely managed to focus on the blade that promised his end.

Then...

Elio saw the light.

A roar tore through the air, followed by an orange glow that illuminated Fathoran's surprised face. The light of a small but fierce fireball struck his back, altering the trajectory of his sword.

Elio: 144 - 5 = 1 Resistance / 138 Armor Resistance.

Tarec, his heart pounding in his chest, watched as his desperate plan bore unexpected fruit.

♢♢♢♢

Moments earlier, Tarec had noticed the patriarch moving increasingly slower when facing Lucien and Selene.

Could it be...?

His eyes frantically scanned the crowd, searching for anyone who could help. His gaze settled on a young soldier whose slightly trembling hands betrayed his nervousness.

"You," Tarec had whispered, his voice barely audible amid the chaos. "You still have mana, don't you?"

The soldier nodded, his eyes wide with fear.

"Listen," Tarec continued, his voice laden with urgency. "If we don't act now, we'll regret it forever. One fireball, that's all I'm asking. You could be the difference between freedom and tyranny."

The soldier hesitated, the conflict evident on his face. Tarec could see fear battling against the desire to act, to release the pent-up resentment of oppression.

"Think of your family, your friends," Tarec insisted. "Do you want them to live under the families' feet forever? We need to show everyone that we can still act. They're powerful, yes, but... We're no longer just defenseless citizens. You're a summoner now!"

Something changed in the soldier's eyes. A spark of determination replaced the fear. With a quick motion, he conjured a fireball and hurled it towards Fathoran.

♢♢♢♢

Back in the present...

Elio tried to rise. His body, driven by superhuman strength, propelled him upward.

But Fathoran's speed was relentless. The sword sought Elio's neck once more.

"You can't harm me with that!" the Founder roared, his voice charged with anger.

The fear of a soldier rebellion at this moment of weakness was very real to him. His resistance must be at its limit. But he knew he had to hide it behind a mask of indifference...

That blow, had it impacted his face, would have taken 8 points from his scant 11 points of resistance.

Elio, still in a precarious position, saw death approaching. His spear was far from him, and he had to use his arm to block.

The armor defended him, but Fathoran, with a fluid motion, pushed and slid the sword, making another cut on Elio's neck.

Elio: 139 - 5 = 1 Resistance / 133 Armor Resistance.

Elio grasped the sword with his hands to prevent it from severing his head.

The pain was intense, but Elio wouldn't let himself be eliminated easily.

His muscles tensed, preventing Fathoran from continuing the cut. But Fathoran manipulated the sword expertly, gaining ground on Elio with each passing moment.

Elio: 134 - 5 = 1 Resistance / 128 Armor Resistance.

A second stretched into eternity due to the horrible pain of death promised by Fathoran's sword. Each tiny millimeter, each small change in the angle of the blade sent intense sensations of pain to Elio's spine.

Elio: 129 - 5 = 1 / 123 Armor.

Elio: 124 - 5 = 1 / 118 Armor.

Elio: 119 - 5 = 1 / 113 Armor.

Elio: 114 - 5 = 1 / 108 Armor.

Elio: 109 - 5 = 1 / 103 Armor.

Elio: 104 - 5 = 1 / 98 Armor.

Elio: 99 - 5 = 1 / 93 Armor.

Elio: 94 - 5 = 1 / 88 Armor.

Elio: 89 - 5 = 1 / 83 Armor.

Elio: 84 - 5 = 1 / 78 Armor.

Elio: 79 - 5 = 1 Resistance / 73 Armor Resistance.

Elio believed there was no way out. If he released the sword to use magic, he would die even faster...

Maybe that was better than suffering like this?

No!

He was made of sheer will!

He wouldn't give up... No matter if in the end he would only feel this infernal pain a little longer before dying.

But instead of cold metal against his flesh, he felt a gust of wind that pushed him and Fathoran apart.

Fathoran's sword slid away from his grip.

Lucien, his face contorted with pain from his punctured lung, slowly lowered his hand. His last mana point had vanished, but satisfaction shone in his eyes as he saw that he had managed to help Elio one last time.

Without wasting time, Elio summoned his spear. He had only 2 mana points left, but he didn't know how much resistance Fathoran had left. He couldn't risk using them in a final attack.

Elio Mana: 1.5

His spear could damage Fathoran without spending mana.

♢♢♢♢

Elio was finally standing.

His neck burned as it regenerated the damage, but he was alive. Before him, Fathoran stood, his posture still threatening despite the interruption.

Elio tilted his face, his eyes looking defiantly at Fathoran.

"A sword against a spear, old man? Do you even know how to use it?" Elio's words struck deep within Fathoran.

Elio knew how to affect him.

Fathoran growled, his face a mask of barely contained fury.

He attacked again, his sword describing deadly arcs in the air. Elio blocked and dodged, his body moving more by instinct than skill. Each clash of metal against metal reverberated in his bones, reminding him of his opponent's vast experience.

Around them, soldiers began to approach, drawn by the spectacle of titans facing off.

But more than anything, by the boy Tarec had pushed to attack. The founder seemed unaffected by the attack, but he didn't kill the young man, didn't defend himself.

Could he no longer do so?

Elio, aware of the approaching crowd, felt the weight of responsibility on his shoulders.

But he also felt his determination grow.

Each movement, each block, was a titanic effort. Fathoran remained a formidable opponent. But there was something in his posture, a slight hesitation in his attacks, that Elio noticed. It was no longer impossible to follow his movements.

The Founder was reaching his limit.

With each exchange, Elio gained confidence. His mind worked at full speed, analyzing patterns, looking for weaknesses.

And then he saw it:

The front light of Fathoran's armor went out.

Fathoran: 11 = 11 Resistance / 0 Armor Resistance

The revelation hit Elio like lightning.

The armor, like the level 5 one, showed him that its resistance had been depleted.

And if he fell, someone else would need that information.

"Listen!" Elio shouted, his voice resonating above the din of battle. "His armor is empty! His defense is not infallible. If you hit his face, at some point he will die!"