William didn't even look at the spearhead on the ground to realize something was wrong. This was the first time his "healing" hadn't immediately restored a wound. A strange force was continuously destroying his muscles and nerves at the injury site—so much so that even his "healing" couldn't fully counteract the damage. The numbness around the wound was slowly spreading.
"Stay calm, hold steady!" William kept smiling. "This poison shouldn't work indefinitely. Wait a bit—once its effect fades, the healing will fully restore the wound."
The Darkstar and Malor approached from both sides, grinning with confidence, ready to effortlessly claim victory. But William parried left and right with ease. After a few tentative rounds, the two realized that William's defense was still impeccable. From the recoil of their weapons, it was clear he hadn't lost any strength. The smiles of the Darkstar and Malor slowly froze—what kind of monster was this? Incredible strength, lightning-fast reflexes, and such high resistance to poison?
After a brief standoff, the Darkstar suddenly realized the situation and looked at Malor with a hint of urgency in his eyes. "The poison is taking effect. He's just holding on. We can't give him time to recover. We have to finish him now!"
Malor nodded viciously.
The two lunged, and the arena erupted into fierce combat again. The clash of weapons rang out constantly, yet the battlefield's situation bewildered the audience. William, usually aggressive in a one-versus-three, now went on full defense after losing one opponent. His enemies' attacks were relentless, but among the Dornish, they weren't very popular. Despite their skill, the cheers were sparse.
Years of rigorous training had honed William's martial techniques into instinct. Even with most of his focus on resisting the poison, his defense remained flawless. The two opponents had no answer against William's all-out defense, and as the battle dragged on, they grew increasingly frustrated.
The Darkstar remained silent, his face darkening with hatred and resentment. Malor cursed as he attacked, trying to provoke William. Naturally, William didn't fall for it, maintaining his calm. He knew time was on his side.
Suddenly, like a buzzing fly, Malor spat, "The Four Knights of Ten-Mile Town? More like a bunch of turtles! Did you really defeat two hundred iron militia? Isn't that exaggerated a hundred times?" At that moment, William's ever-smiling face darkened. The Darkstar and Malor exchanged a glance, seeing delight mirrored in each other's eyes.
Malor continued to provoke him with more jabs about Ten-Mile Town. William's anger flared, his expression darkened, until Malor sneered, "I heard two of you even died? Four against two, and two died? Those two must have been idiots!" William couldn't hold back any longer. He roared, "Shut up!"
For Erik and Bob, who were never supposed to die, William had always felt deep guilt. Hearing Malor insult them pushed his fury over the edge. Blood rushed to his head, numbness in his waist forgotten, as he swung his sword with full force against the Darkstar's blade. The power exceeded even his expectations—the greatsword was violently knocked aside, exposing his chest. The Darkstar broke into a cold sweat, retreating with all his strength.
But William didn't pursue. He turned around instead. Seeing William finally counterattack, Malor couldn't help but smirk—but then he saw William's sword strike down the Darkstar and turn toward him. Moving so fast, William seemed like a shadow, instantly in front of him. Sword rose and fell, blood splattering.
Malor's body collapsed at William's feet, a face frozen in disbelief.
It all happened in the blink of an eye. Almost no one saw what had occurred. The arena fell silent. On the high platform, the Red Viper's eyes narrowed.
Standing beside Malor's corpse, William's fury gradually subsided. He recalled the feeling of cutting through Ten-Mile Town, and during his duel with Rosso in Harrenhal, he vaguely felt he had grasped something.
The Darkstar seemed stunned by the previous scene. Fear filled his eyes as he stared at William, but his face twisted with madness. Suddenly, he roared and charged, stabbing at William's back.
Amid the spectators' screams, William—who had been standing still a moment ago—kneeled and spun at the critical instant. His sword traced a beautiful arc like lightning. Clang! The Darkstar felt an irresistible force on his hand. His sword flew from his grip, tracing a flash through the air, and embedding in the arena floor.
The next second, William's blade slashed across his throat, leaving a streak of crimson.
The Darkstar clutched his neck with both hands, letting out an incomprehensible hoarse sound. The color in his eyes gradually faded—whether from fear or madness, it was impossible to tell.
Looking at that bloodless face, William murmured, "You shouldn't have angered me, Ser Gerold."
Exhaling his final breath, the Darkstar collapsed to the ground, sending up a small cloud of dust.
William raised his greatsword high and walked out of the arena to thunderous cheers. The lords, ladies, and young noblewomen on the high platform all rose and applauded, each smiling, though their gazes varied—some admiring, some envious, some shy, some infatuated. Only the Red Viper's eyes reflected deep apprehension.
After the match, the commoners began packing their belongings, preparing to return home. The nobles, however, were to attend tonight's grand banquet and would leave the next morning.
As the undisputed champion of the tournament, William became the center of attention wherever he went. People approached him proactively, eager to meet and converse, and he was practically surrounded by a crowd wherever he walked, as if he were the sun among the stars.
While he was walking down a corridor with a group of knights, excitedly discussing the day's battles, Nymeria suddenly approached and invited William for a private conversation. William readily agreed, while the other knights watched them leave, their glances laced with playful curiosity.
Nymeria didn't give a reason. Instead, she linked her arm with his, teasing and laughing as she led him up to the gate tower of Skyreach. Side by side, they stood on the edge of the wall, looking down. Outside the city, tents had been packed away one by one. Amid the bustling crowd, people called to friends and companions, forming groups as they walked. From the gate tower, the crowd looked like a flowing river pouring from Skyreach, slowly streaming down the mountain paths, splitting into smaller and smaller tributaries at forks in the road, until finally, it all disappeared into the horizon.
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