Far above the broken castle, suspended in a storm of dust and mana, hovered a demonic vampire. His vast batlike wings beat the air in slow, dreadful rhythm, every stroke leaving trails of dark energy. Opposite him floated Arthur, clad in golden armor that burned like a small sun in the night sky. Two radiant wings unfurled behind him, feathers of pure light stretching just as far as Carl's demonic span.
For a heartbeat, they did not move. Their eyes locked, and the air itself grew heavy between them, as if nature was waiting to see which force would break first.
Then Carl vanished. His form blurred into a jagged bolt of blue lightning, leaving afterimages crackling in the sky. In the blink of an eye, he reappeared before Arthur, fist drawn back and coated in lightning so fierce it hissed like a living storm.
Arthur didn't hesitate. Countless battles had sharpened his instincts beyond hesitation. He raised his shield with the practiced motion of a veteran, bracing his entire body behind it.
The punch landed.
BOOM.
The force of explosion shattered the shield instantly, fragments of golden light scattering like shards of a broken star. The impact hurled Arthur down from the sky, his body striking the ground with a thunderous crash. The earth cracked in a wide circle, dirt and stone shooting upward like a wave.
From above, Carl's voice echoed, his tone hollow and demonic. "If I recall, they call you the One Hundred Swords or something like that. That means you must shatter a hundred weapons before reaching your true strength. Do you honestly think you can last that long? You're only on your thirtieth."
Dust swirled, broken earth still crumbling, when a silhouette rose from the crater. Arthur walked out slowly, step by step, golden eyes fixed on his foe. A new sword and shield materialized in his hands, radiating a purer light than the last. His only answer was silence.
Carl sneered. "So be it."
He vanished again. Blows came from all directions—a kick from above, a strike from the side, a crushing fist from behind. Each attack was fast enough to split air, strong enough to rattle the castle walls in the distance. Arthur blocked and countered where he could, but every defense cost him. Shields shattered, swords splintered, his arms trembled under the weight. By the tenth block his muscles screamed, blood dripping from his fingertips.
Then another fist tore through the air. Arthur lifted his shield and braced. This time, the construct of light endured, ringing like a war drum. Arthur pushed back, swinging his sword in a blazing horizontal arc. A crescent of golden energy ripped forward, colliding with Carl and sending him skidding back through the air.
Carl steadied himself, then smirked. "So, you've already begun to adapt?"
Arthur didn't answer. He raised his shield again, and a concentrated beam of light burst forth like a spear of the sun.
Carl lowered his head, blood and mana swirling between his horns, condensing into a searing crimson point. With a guttural roar, he unleashed his own beam, lancing forward.
The two forces collided midair, tearing the night apart. Golden brilliance fought against crimson destruction, light clashing in a grinding storm. At first, they seemed equal. Then Carl's power pressed forward, slowly devouring Arthur's radiance until it finally broke through.
The crimson beam struck Arthur's shield. The golden construct shattered, and the attack slammed into him directly, carving burning wounds across his armor and flesh. He dropped to one knee, smoke rising from his body.
Carl laughed, deep and triumphant. "Is that all you've got?"
But his laughter cut short.
Arthur rose again. His body burned, but his wings spread wider, glowing with such intensity that the shadows themselves fled from him. His aura compressed tighter, heavier, denser—like sunlight distilled into a blade's edge.
Then he moved.
With a burst of speed equal to Carl's demonic flight, Arthur lunged forward. Their collision shook the heavens.
Sword and fist met. Sparks of gold and blue exploded outward. They clashed again and again, two blurs streaking across the night sky like warring comets. Each impact was thunderous; each strike sent shockwaves rippling downward. Trees bent, the ground cracked, and the forest itself seemed to bow under their struggle.
Another sword shattered in Arthur's hand. This time, the fragments dissolved into pure radiance, leaving only a single longsword. The light around his body stopped expanding outward. Instead, it tightened around him, compressing into a dense, searing glow. His power no longer spilled freely—it gathered, focused.
As sword and fist collided again, sparks of gold and blue erupted in the air. This time, Carl staggered back with a deep wound carved across his hand, crimson blood dripping and hissing as it struck the ground. Across from him, Arthur's sword shattered into shards of light, but before the fragments could fall, another blade appeared seamlessly in his grip—burning brighter, heavier, more absolute.
Carl froze. His blue eyes widened with disbelief. 'Impossible…'
His demonic form placed him at the brink of A4, a level where few could ever hope to stand against him. The information he possessed was clear: Arthur was ranked an A3, formidable but below him. Even if he had become stronger, he should have been his equal at best—not capable of stopping him so easily. How could he be bleeding when he had not even invoked the full power of his domain?
Opposite him, Arthur's presence shifted. The radiant aura that once spilled outward now condensed completely into his body. The light was no longer a loose glow—it had hardened, absorbed fully into his armor. What had once been holy brilliance became solid, weighty plating of dark-gold, as though the heavens themselves had forged him a real suit of war.
Arthur raised his sword, voice steady and cold. "Forty-eight."
He slashed downward.
A great arc of light ripped forward, cutting through the air with devastating weight. The sheer pressure forced Carl to act instantly. Blue lightning flared from his horns as he unleashed another beam to intercept. The two forces met, colliding with a roar that cracked the sky itself. Carl's knees buckled from the backlash—he had barely stopped it.
"How can you be this powerful on your forty-eighth sword?!" Carl roared, anger replacing his shock.
Arthur answered with silence. He raised his weapon again. "Forty-nine."
The sword fell.
The attack was so sudden, so sharp, that Carl's instincts failed him. He tried to leap aside, wings flaring—but it was too late. Pain tore through his body as one of his arms was severed cleanly, followed by the shredding of an entire wing. Blood sprayed into the air, raining crimson as Carl's scream echoed.
Another sword of light appeared in Arthur's hand. But this time, it wasn't just a weapon—it was a beacon. His entire body glowed like a miniature sun, golden light flooding across the battlefield. His voice resonated, layered, ethereal, as though something greater spoke through him.
"You were right."
Carl looked up, trembling, his face drenched in pain and disbelief. The radiant sun above him dwarfed everything else.
Arthur's voice deepened, echoing across the broken land. "I once required one hundred swords to reach the full power of my domain… But that was before I met Him."
Carl's eyes narrowed. "…Him?"
Arthur lifted his blade, golden fire coiling along its edge. "Now I need only fifty."
The sword fell.
The world itself split. The earth and the sky both seemed to rupture as the arc carved them apart. Carl's body was severed cleanly, but the cut did not end there. Behind him, a mountain parted in a perfect vertical line. The night was torn open by brilliance.
Carl's body hung in two halves. His face frozen in astonishment, his mouth agape, eyes wide with disbelief. For the first time, fear had replaced arrogance.
Arthur descended slowly, sweat streaking down his forehead, chest heaving as he landed back on solid ground. He exhaled a long breath, exhaustion creeping into his limbs. He turned his gaze toward where Leo was still fighting—ready to aid him—when a familiar pulse froze him in place.
A surge of demonic power.
Arthur's eyes widened in irritation. He turned back toward Carl.
The severed body convulsed. Darkness poured across it, thick as tar, wrapping the pieces and knitting them together. Wet, sickening sounds echoed as new flesh bubbled forth, stretching and forming in unnatural patterns. Within moments, the vampire prince was gone. In its place stood a grotesque demon.
His face was a grotesque patchwork of meat, eyes scattered randomly across his skull. From his torso sprouted two additional arms—one jutting grotesquely from his chest, another from his back. A scaled tail unfurled behind him, like that of a dragon, smashing into the ground with crushing weight. The air stank of blood and burning flesh.
Arthur stiffened, stunned by the transformation.
The creature's malformed mouth twitched into a crooked smile. From it came a broken voice, words fractured, almost swallowed by gurgling growls. "I… wiill… kkkhhhha… kill… y-youu…"
Arthur sighed, long and heavy, weariness and annoyance mixing in his breath. The vampire prince was gone.
"The ring has twisted him into nothing more than a mindless beast." He raised his sword once more, the golden sun still burning faintly behind him. "Seems slicing them in half isn't enough. I'll have to find another way." He paused, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "The Sword of Truth would be useful right now."
The memory of its weight lingered vividly—how the blade had thrummed with power in his grip, sharp enough to cut through lies as easily as steel. It had felt alive, as if the weapon itself judged the worth of the one who wielded it. But that was in the past. The sword now rested in the capital, far beyond his reach.
...
At the same time, near the castle.
Even from this distance, Leo could feel the shockwaves of Arthur's battle. Each pulse of mana rippled through the ground beneath his feet, a reminder that his friend was clashing with something monstrous.
Dorin casually licked the blood from a shallow cut on his arm, then bared his fangs with a savage grin. "They're having fun out there," he growled. "We should have some fun too."
Leo's lips curved into a sharp smile. "I was thinking the same."
For a moment, the two predators locked eyes. No words. No hesitation. Just a mutual recognition of the fight they both craved. Then, as if a signal had been given, they charged.
Claw and sword collided with a thunderous crash, shockwaves bursting outward in jagged ripples. Leo's blade was wrapped in blood, every swing releasing a Blood Slash. It was the only way he could stand toe-to-toe with an A2-ranked monster like Dorin.
Briva, standing further back, struggled to keep up. She tried to track the fight with her bow, but the two combatants moved so fast that her arrows would be wasted shots. Her eyes narrowed in frustration—until she raised her hand and whispered an incantation.
A small emerald circle of magic appeared above her palm. Within seconds, the air was alive with a buzzing hum. Flying insects—beetles, hornets, locusts—began swarming toward her call. Within a minute, their sheer numbers had grown so dense they resembled a shifting black cloud blotting the sky.
With a sharp motion of her arm, Briva sent them surging forward. The swarm wrapped around Dorin, their wings vibrating furiously, their mandibles scraping and piercing. Thousands of tiny fangs and stingers dug into his fur.
The wolf's thick hide protected him, but the constant biting and crawling made him snarl. With a guttural howl, a pulse of sound ripped from his chest, shredding a portion of the swarm midair.
Leo seized the chance. He raised his hand toward the few hundred insects still clinging stubbornly to Dorin's body. "Weight Enchantment."
Mana surged. The bodies of the insects grew unnaturally heavy, dragging Dorin down like chains of lead. With a roar, the beast crashed into the ground, earth and stone exploding around him.
Normally, Weight Enchantment was meant for objects. But Leo's mana overwhelmed the tiny bodies of the swarm, turning them into weapons in their own right.
Dorin climbed to his feet, fury blazing across his face. He crouched to lunge, but an army of ants poured up his legs like liquid shadows. Their bodies wriggled and tightened, trying to pin him down.
"Enough!" Dorin's howl was different this time—drenched in rage. His fur ignited at the tips, crimson flames racing across his body. The insects shriveled instantly, falling in charred heaps. Heat radiated from him like a furnace, driving the rest of the swarm back.
Then his blazing eyes locked on Briva.
Leo's heart lurched. "No—!" He tried to move, but Dorin's speed had skyrocketed with his flames. In the blink of an eye, he appeared in front of Briva, his claws already slashing forward.
Leo's eyes widened. Too fast. He couldn't reach her in time.
But Briva had already transformed. Fur rippled across her body, her limbs thickened, and in the span of a heartbeat she became a towering bear. With impeccable timing, her claw lashed out.
The strike slammed into Dorin's chest with a thunderous impact. The wolf was sent flying backward, crashing into the same crater he had left earlier.
Before Leo could even process the moment, another event stole his attention. From the far distance, a massive wave of light ripped across the horizon. It tore through the air with such overwhelming force that an entire mountain split in half, its peak collapsing in silence.
Leo's lips curved upward. 'That must be Arthur.' Pride flickered in his eyes.
But the smile didn't last. Something in Dorin's rising aura told him the fight wasn't close to finished.
Dorin rose from the crater, his body wreathed in flames. His irritation had burned away into full-blown rage, and the fire now consumed him entirely, rolling off his fur like molten armor. He tilted his head back and unleashed a piercing howl.
The sound split the air like glass shattering, and with it came a violent eruption of flame. A wave of fire burst outward in all directions, expanding like a blazing explosion. The heat was so intense that the stone walls of the nearby castle blackened and cracked before the fire even touched them.
Leo's blood ran cold. Briva's defense couldn't withstand that kind of force—not a chance. In an instant, he threw himself in front of her, sword ready. His mind raced. He could see it clearly: no barrier spells, no blood enchantment he knew was strong enough to stop that inferno.
Only one choice remained.
He raised his blade, veins pulsing along his arm, and whispered. "Blood Explosion."
A tidal wave of blood surged outward from him, thick and crimson, colliding with the inferno. The clash was earth-shaking. The ground cracked and heaved, castle walls crumbled, and the shockwave ripped stone from the earth. Fire and blood clashed violently, but Leo's crimson tide held easily.
When the flames dissipated, Leo was already on one knee, gasping. His strength draining rapidly, the cost of burning through too much of his own blood at once. His vision blurred. His breath came ragged.
Through the haze, Dorin's figure emerged from the fading flames, still burning, still unbroken. Each step forward cracked the stone beneath his feet, and the fire around his body made the air shimmer and warp.
"You wasted your strongest spell," Dorin growled, his voice layered with flame and malice. "And all it did… was stop the mana leaking from my body. Now what will you do?"
Leo's hand trembled, but his resolve didn't waver. From his bag, he pulled out a small gem, its faint glow hidden beneath blood stains. He tightened his grip on it, meeting Dorin's blazing gaze.
"I'll do this."
With a snap, he crushed the gem between his fingers. Shards of crystal dissolved instantly into pure mana, flooding into him like a storm. The world tilted. His connection to Ethereon sharpened, stabilizing.
Then it came.
The sound of two bells.
Soft at first, then resounding across the battlefield like holy chimes. Their beautiful tones reverberated through the land, serene yet powerful, carrying weight enough to silence even the raging flames for a heartbeat.
Leo's pupils dilated, and slowly his eyes turned crimson red. His aura swelled like a rising tide, heavy enough to shake the ground beneath him.
The true fight was about to begin.