The roar of the crowd is drowned out by the deafening ring of steel.
Alexander and Arthur charge again and again, each clash shaking the arena walls. The sarissa crashes down like a thunderbolt, Excalibur answers like a pillar of light. Sparks explode, blades scrape, the ground itself splits beneath their feet.
Blood arcs through the air with every strike. Alexander's side is torn open, Arthur's chest already leaking crimson, bones cracked under the relentless blows. Bruises bloom across their bodies like war paint, their breath ragged but unyielding.
Still… They smile.
For the first time in centuries, Alexander feels alive. His face, always so rigid, now twisted into a grin as wide as the battlefield itself. Arthur, his eyes blazing, mirrors it with a smile that carries the weight of kingship, betrayal, and resolve.
At this moment,
it is not Humanity vs Fairy Tales.
Not Conqueror vs King.
It is simply two warriors who live for the fight.
Rumpelstiltskin shrieks from above, nearly losing his voice:
"Ladies and gentlemen, I can't believe what I'm seeing! They're tearing each other apart… and they're LAUGHING! No audience, no kingdom, no legacy, just two men chasing the purest joy of battle!"
Across the arena, Noah grips the railing of the VIP stand. His knuckles turn white.
"They… they'll kill each other at this rate…"
But Lucianne, eyes wide, whispers,
"No… they're free. This is who they truly are."
Fairy tale creatures howl with bloodlust, banging on the arena walls. Humans watching from secret corners of the world weep, shout, or simply stare in stunned silence. Some scream for Arthur, some pray for Alexander, others simply feel awe.
The Grimm Brothers watch with unnerving calm. Hans chuckles, delighted by the carnage.
"Look at them, brother! Dogs bite until nothing's left. Isn't it beautiful?"
But Leo narrows his eyes, silent. For him, this wasn't beauty, this was something rarer. Something dangerous.
In the center of it all, Alexander and Arthur fight until their armor is shredded, their faces unrecognizable, their entire beings dripping red. Every strike is answered, every wound answered with another, until they are two living corpses refusing to fall.
And still they grin at each other, teeth bared, eyes blazing.
Alexander shouted, "This… is the war I craved!"
Arthur replied, "This… is the duel I sought!"
Their voices boom in unison as they lunge for the next clash, steel and flesh meeting in a storm that makes the entire arena tremble.
But then, King Arthur was ready to make a bigger move.
He roars, summoning every ounce of strength left in his battered body. Excalibur hums with golden fury, the blade glowing faintly as he raises it high. His voice cracks but still shakes the arena:
"ROYAL VERDICT!!!"
The True King charges forward like a comet, his strike aimed straight at the staggering Conqueror. Alexander limps, his legs dragging, his spear heavy in his hands. His face remains unreadable, blood dripping freely down his side.
Then, he closes his eyes.
Gasps ripple through the arena.
Rumpelstiltskin almost leaps out of his seat, screeching into the crystal microphones:
"He… closed his eyes?! The Conqueror has given up! He's given up!"
The fairy tale side roars in triumph. Hans laughs wickedly, slamming his fist on the armrest.
"Yes! Pendragon will split him in half!"
Arthur grins, seeing the opening wide as the heavens. He brings Excalibur down with all his might-
And then…
SPLLLLLTTTTT!
The sound is sickening, wet, final.
For a moment, the arena is silent. Then the fairy side erupts in screams, not of triumph, but of horror.
Arthur staggers back, his eyes wide in disbelief. His left arm, still clutching Excalibur's sheath, falls limp to the ground with a heavy thud. Blood sprays across the cracked stones, painting Arthur's cloak crimson.
His arm is gone.
The True King howls in pain, collapsing to one knee. The humans watching from hidden corners gasp, some screaming Arthur's name in despair, others frozen in disbelief.
Noah clutches the railing of the VIP box, his voice cracking:
"What… what just happened?!"
Even Hans Grimm sits up in shock, his grin vanishing.
"Impossible…!"
But Lucianne, with a sharp eyes, mind racing and she leans forward, her voice trembling but clear as she explains to Noah:
"He didn't give up… Alexander was baiting him."
Noah stares at her. "What are you saying- ?!"
Lucianne swallows hard, her hands gripping her notes until her knuckles turn white.
"Alexander closed his eyes… not to surrender, but to feel the rhythm of Arthur's attack. He predicted the arc of Royal Verdict before it even landed. And when Arthur committed his full body weight to the strike, Alexander used the U-shaped blade of his sarissa… and hooked Arthur's arm clean off."
The explanation makes Noah's stomach drop. The sheer precision. The savagery. The brilliance.
Lucianne's voice lowers, horrified yet awestruck:
"He's not fighting with strength anymore… he's fighting with instinct and experience alone. That wasn't luck. That was the Conqueror at his purest."
In the arena, Alexander finally opens his eyes again. Bloodied, battered, but standing tall. A faint, almost ghostly smile curves his lips.
"I told you, King of Britain… a true Conqueror never yields."
The crowd explodes with half in cheers, half in screams.
Arthur, kneeling, clutching his bleeding shoulder, glares up at him. His voice is ragged, but his will is unbroken.
"This fight… isn't over."
Arthur staggers, blood pouring from the stump of his missing arm. Alexander steadies his sarissa, his breathing ragged but his stance unyielding. The duel had reached the point of no return.
In the VIP box, Noah's hands shake but not with fear. With certainty.
"This… this is the chance to end it."
He turns to Lucianne. Their eyes lock. She nods once, sharp and sure.
"Do it, Noah."
Noah slams his palm down on the control panel and shouts across the arena.
"HUMANITY CALLS THE GOLDEN SPHERE!"
Instantly, the atmosphere shifts.
The heavens themselves ripple as a blinding golden light blooms above the coliseum. A sphere of pure radiance, larger than any sun, begins to unravel like a flower in bloom. Golden dust rains across the battlefield, clinging to Alexander's body, to his wounds, to his very heartbeat.
On the fairy tale side, Hans Grimm jolts upright, his mocking grin wiped clean. His eyes narrow, a flicker of unease piercing through.
"What… is this?!"
Even Leo Grimm, stoic as ever, leans forward. His expression remains sharp, but for the first time, his silence feels heavy.
In the arena, Alexander raises his sarissa high, pointing it toward the golden sphere. His voice, hoarse yet unshaken, booms like the command of a warlord echoing across time itself:
"My Fleet… RISE!"
The golden sphere shatters.
Dust cascades like a celestial storm, and from it, shapes begin to form. Silhouettes of men clad in bronze armor, sarissas gleaming, marching in perfect unison. Rows upon rows, shields locking, spears braced and the unmistakable formation of the Macedonian phalanx.
The Golden Fleet of Macedonia.
And then, with a thunderous whinny, the dust swirls beneath Alexander's feet, forming the body of his eternal companion, Bucephalus. The great black horse, reconstructed from pure golden light, surges forward, neighing loud enough to shake the arena. Alexander mounts onto him with single motion, becoming a figure torn from legend itself.
Now astride Bucephalus, with a golden army at his back, Alexander lowers his sarissa. His voice cuts across the coliseum, commanding as though time itself bent to his will,
"This is my empire's eternal army! Carved not from stone, but from the will of a Conqueror! Tremble before the Golden Fleet of Macedonia!"
The army roars in unison, their spears slamming the ground, creating a quake that rattles the entire arena.
Humans watching from secret corners weep and cheer. Some fall to their knees, praying to the sight of their resurrected champion. "This… this is hope made flesh!"
While, Fairy creatures hiss and scream, many stumble back from the sheer pressure radiating from the golden legion. Their howls sound more like fear than fury.
Rumpelstiltskin clutches the announcer's box railing, his manic grin stretched ear to ear.
"Ohohoho! Do you see this?! An entire army born from one man's will! The Conqueror doesn't fight alone! He brings a WORLD with him!"
Hans Grimm grips his throne, his mocking laughter now strained, his voice low and sharp. "No… no fairytale beast should face this…"
Leo Grimm, however, only exhales slowly. "So this is humanity's resolve… not bad."
And at the heart of it all, Alexander smiles, not with arrogance, but with the fierce joy of a man who once led thousands into glory and now commands them once more.
The Conqueror rides again.
This might be the end of it.
Alexander, mounted upon Bucephalus of golden dust, led the Macedonian Phalanx as their sarissas bristled like a forest of death. His eyes held no mercy, only the weight of countless victories.
Arthur, bleeding, battered, and missing an arm, still held Excalibur with the last shreds of his strength. His lone arm trembled but his spirit did not.
With a thunderous cry, Alexander struck downward with his great sarissa.
"CHARGE!"
Every single golden dust army in Alexander phalanx including The conqueror himself and the Bucephalus have charged forward towards the crumbling King that still stands in a fighting stance.
Alexander holding his U-shaped end sarissa in a swinging position plus the acceleration from the horse, make it into one of the powerful swings of a spear.
With a thunderous cry, Alexander struck downward with his great sarissa. The force of horse and rider collided with Arthur, but the King of Britain parried, steel shrieking against steel. The impact shook the ground.
Even in the weakened form, the true king has enough power to parry the powerful swing of The great conqueror.
But…
The fleet of golden macedonian army who are charging towards him is an exception.
Arthur had no strength left to evade. The phalanx surged, and hundreds of spears tore through his body. Flesh pierced, armor shattered, blood erupted.
Arthur's body filled with spears made holes throughout his body. His bluish silver armor is now coloured with crimson red. His body fell to the ground, seeming lifeless.
The fairy tale side fell into horrified silence. Hans Grimm screamed in anger. Noah and Lucianne shouted triumph though they had won, humanity's hope all around the world was alive.
Alexander stood tall, his fleet of golden dust army arrayed behind him. To the world, the Conqueror had achieved yet another unstoppable victory.
Until…
From behind Alexander, a shadow rose.
Arthur. King Arthur.
The once-proud king now stood like a lifeless corpse, body riddled with holes, yet his eyes still burned with will.
The crowd gasped. Even Alexander, the emotionless conqueror, widened his eyes for the first time.
"What a great king you are, Arthur" said Alexander from the back of Golden dust made Bucephalus.
"Damn right, I AM." Arthur says with a bloody smile on his face.
From the human side, Noah and Lucianne froze until Hans's Elder brother, Leo Grimm, stood for the first time. His sharp eyes gazed at Arthur, and he shouted a single command while pointing to the sky.
"Awaken."
The second golden sphere opened above, flooding Arthur with its light. Golden dust rained down, resonating with his battered heart. His severed arm reformed in radiant light, a flowing golden cape draped over his shoulders, and for the first time, Arthur felt the living heartbeat of Excalibur itself.
Arthur raised the holy blade with both hands, its glow piercing the heavens. Excalibur extended into a colossal sword of light, splitting the sky itself.
Alexander smirked, raising his sarissa, and gave his final speech.
"King of Britain… you have earned my respect. Let us end this as warriors."
Arthur's eyes softened for the first time, offering a king's nod.
"And you, Conqueror, shall be judged with honor."
The battlefield roared alive one last time. Alexander charged, phalanx at his back, Bucephalus beneath him, sarissa aimed true. Arthur raised the blade of judgment.
Their final clash split the heavens-
BOOOOOOM!!!
A divine diagonal slash of light called The King's Judgment, cut through the phalanx, the horse, the sarissa, and at last, Alexander himself.
Blood spewing out of the conqueror's body. The Golden dust phalanx and the golden dust Bucephalus returned to its particle form
All of the humans watching including Noah and Lucianne watch with despair in their faces. Some screaming, some crying seeing the Great Conqueror of humanity have fallen down. Seeing the despair and hopelessness from the humans on the spectator stands, Alexander thinks he needs to do something to make their flames in the heart burn brighter.
The Conqueror's body, cleaved in two, still stood. He refused to let his back touch the ground. With a faint smile, he gave his last words to humanity:
"Raise your heads, children of the world. Look not at the ruins that surround us, but at the fire that still burns within your chests. Do you think glory is given to those who surrender to despair? No! It is forged in defiance, in the clash of steel, in the last breath of those who choose to stand rather than kneel."
"I, Alexander, have crossed deserts, mountains, and empires not because it was easy, but because the impossible is the throne of the worthy. You think this is the end? Then let this be the end of weakness, not of humanity. If the gods themselves demand our chains, then we shall shatter Olympus with mortal hands!"
"Remember this: death is not defeat. Defeat is when you stop fighting. As long as one of you still dares to raise a sword, a fist, or even a cry of defiance, humanity has not fallen. Burn this truth into your hearts, glory is eternal, but only for those who refuse to bow."
"Now rise, warriors. Rise with me. Let the world know that mankind does not perish in silence... we roar into eternity!"
The speech shocked everyone including King Arthur and the fairy tales side.
Then, his form slowly dissolved into golden light.
The arena fell silent.
Seeing that he had won, Arthur does not scream in victory but rather gives Alexander his respect by dropping to one knee, resting Excalibur before him. Though broken and bleeding, he bowed his head in final respect.