The thought echoed as a sharp glint passed through his compound eyes. A flash of cold resolve.
He needed to shift the momentum—do something.
And then he noticed it.
A subtle pattern in the fight, almost invisible unless one was desperate enough to look.
Twenty-nine hadn't attacked.
Not once.
From the moment their battle began, she had been purely on the defensive. Smooth, calculated, precise—like a masterful dancer dodging flames, not retaliating, only buying time.
His eyes narrowed.
"Why… why hasn't she hit back?"
A chill gripped his chest.
"She's buying time… but for what?"
Suddenly, a spark lit in Ricky's mind.
His memories raced backward—through the blood, the battles, the chaos—until he landed on one detail he had nearly forgotten in the rush of combat.
"There were three undead princesses."
He had already killed the first.
Now he was locked in battle with the second.
But the third…
He hadn't seen her.
Not once.
"Where is the third undead princess?!"
