Orrin Vale didn't draw his weapon.
Instead, he simply closed his eyes — and breathed.
A silent heartbeat later, his prana erupted, an ocean of violent pressure tearing outward in every direction. The air warped, the ground cracked, and the valley walls groaned beneath the weight of it.
It spread like a hurricane made of raw power, forming a prismatic barrier of condensed force that split the earth beneath his feet. The sky above flickered — even Kieran, far beyond the canyon's mouth, felt the shock run through his spine.
He turned back toward the valley with wide eyes.
"What the hell was—"
But Roy didn't flinch.
He stepped forward.
One foot in front of the other.
Casual. Unhurried.
As though the Prana storm didn't even register.
The barrier shattered around him like thin glass.
Fragments of Orrin's spiritual pressure broke and crumbled just from Roy's presence — until nothing was left but a stunned silence.
The Judicator's eyes widened.
Roy tilted his head, as though slightly disappointed. "…That was it?"
The two subordinates didn't wait for orders.
They burst forward at once — so fast that even seasoned knights would have barely registered the movement. One swept in from the left, halberd flashing downward. The other was already chanting, silver chains coiling from the mouth of his spellbook as the cursed verses of Forbidden Psalm slipped from his tongue.
Roy moved.
Not with brute speed — but with surgical precision.
He stepped around the halberd, letting it carve into the ground beside him as his elbow slammed into the wielder's chest. The halberd user skidded backward, coughing — but a phantom afterimage blade peeled off from the first strike, continuing the swing toward Roy's neck.
Iron Verdict.
Roy ducked beneath the ghost blade and flicked two fingers out. The spectral edge cracked under the touch — and snapped like broken glass.
The caster finished the first stanza of his psalm.
An invisible force punched through Roy's torso like a hammer of sound, the ground beneath his feet shattering from the sonic curse. The Forbidden Psalm began to sink into his bones, cracking them from the inside.
But Roy kept walking forward — eyes unblinking — even as the air shook with cursed resonance.
The caster's voice faltered.
Roy vanished.
A moment later his fist embedded itself into the man's stomach, flinging him off his feet and into the canyon wall with enough force to crater the stone. The chant died in a wet gasp, blood spilling from his lips.
Before the body even hit the ground, the halberd came again — this time thrusting from above with two overlapping afterimages, each swing echoing a different future trajectory.
Roy spun beneath it like drifting smoke.
One hand caught the real polearm.
The other cracked the phantom blades apart with a flick of his wrist.
Steel groaned. Runes shattered.
He pulled — and the wielder flew forward, completely off-balance—
Roy's knee crashed into his ribs like a sledgehammer. Bone snapped audibly.
The halberd dropped.
Roy caught it with his free hand…
… and drove the bladed end directly through its former owner's chest.
A burst of spectral energy flared and died.
Iron Verdict — gone.
The spellcaster, bloodied but conscious, tried to stand and open his book again. Roy was already there. A single backhand strike knocked him to his knees—and a second crushed the spellbook to pieces, scattering cursed pages across the wind like dying moths.
The man looked up, trembling — not with anger… but disbelief.
"You…"
Roy's eyes were flat. "Damn, what happened there?"
He drove his fist through the caster's chest — swift, merciless, clean.
As the subordinate collapsed, Roy turned slowly toward the Judicator Commander.
Orrin still hadn't moved. His hand rested on the hilt of his sword—but he hadn't drawn it. His eyes were fixed on Roy with a weight that carried neither hatred nor fear… only understanding.
"So it's real," he muttered.
Roy said nothing.
"Power like yours… it shouldn't exist outside the Watch." The commander's hand tightened on his weapon. "It must not."
He drew his blade.
A long breath escaped Roy's lips. Not weary — simply patient.
"All right," he said. "Try."
Orrin blurred forward.
The impact cracked the valley floor, sparks of gold and black prana exploding across stone as their blades met—one forged in celestial authority, the other simply a nameless steel drawn from Roy's side in a blur.
For a few moments, neither gave ground.
Orrin's swordplay was flawless. Every strike carried the force of conviction, each movement honed by decades of war and duty. Roy matched him with nothing but perfect distance and frightening calm — each parry executed as if he'd seen the move a hundred times before.
But the Commander wasn't alone.
The halberd subordinate — impaled but still alive — forced himself to stand, blood pouring from his mouth. He let out a ragged roar and hurled himself into the clash, summoning the broken fragments of Iron Verdict as unstable spectral blades.
At the same time, the dying caster raised his shattered book and let loose the final stanza of Forbidden Psalm, sacrificing his own life to fuel the curse one last time.
Both attacks converged on Roy at once — brutal, reckless, suicidal.
Roy didn't step back.
He stepped forward, through Orrin's guard, and slammed the hilt of his blade into the Commander's chest — sending him flying backward just as the two subordinates crashed into Roy's position.
The valley lit up in a storm of silver chains and fractured spectral blades.
Dust swallowed everything.
Orrin slammed into the far ridge and rolled across the ground — disoriented, heartbeat pounding in his ears. He pushed himself onto one knee and looked up—
Roy stood alone in the cloud of settling dust.
The two subordinates lay crumpled at his feet — lifeless, burnt-out prana still hissing from their corpses. They had sacrificed themselves to buy him a chance to escape.
And Orrin understood immediately.
His eyes narrowed… then softened.
"Very well," he murmured. "Another day, then."
He raised his hand — a silver extraction seal burst open behind him. The commander stepped through, his coat fluttering in the wind, never taking his eyes off Roy even as the portal swallowed him.
Roy didn't chase.
He simply watched, expression steady, calm, unshaken — until the portal closed and the Judicator Commander vanished into light.
Only then did he turn away… and begin his long walk back to the shadows.