I took a deep breath before lifting my gaze toward him.
My next step felt heavy, as if my body no longer obeyed me.
The pain wasn't confined to a single spot—it spread through my chest and back, pressing down on me with every breath.
I didn't need to think. The sensation alone told me.
My bones… some of them were probably broken.
I breathed with difficulty and looked at him again. My hands were trembling—not from fear, but from pain.
I wiped my mouth once more; the taste of blood still lingered.
He didn't give me time to catch my breath. He attacked again.
But this time, I was ready.
I raised my sword and barely blocked his strike at the last moment.
At the moment of impact, my arms shook violently, and I felt as if they might give out at any second.
My grip nearly loosened—but I held on.
He didn't let up. One strike followed another, then a third.
I retreated, blocking what I could. Some blows were deflected; others hit me directly.
Pain exploded everywhere—my shoulder, my chest, my back. My body groaned with every movement.
And yet, I was more focused than ever.
I watched his movements in silence, waiting for a single mistake—just one brief moment.
And when he lunged with another attack, his shoulder was exposed for a fraction of a second.
I didn't think.
I released Altaria's threads instantly.
They shot forward at high speed, wrapping around his arm as I tightened them with everything I had left.
Everything stopped in an instant.
His arm fell to the ground.
A strange black fluid burst out violently.
He staggered back, as if he couldn't comprehend what had just happened.
As for me—I remained standing.
My breathing was heavy, my hands trembling, my body screaming in pain… but my gaze was locked onto him.
He screamed.
The sound was so powerful it made my head ring, and I felt as though my ears were about to burst.
My body stepped back on its own before I could even process it.
Then he looked at me.
The moment our eyes met, something pressed down on my chest.
Breathing became harder, as if the air itself was disappearing around me.
It wasn't ordinary fear.
It was pure killing intent—raw, direct, and completely unhidden.
For the first time since the battle began, his fighting style changed.
He planted his foot into the ground and paused his attack.
Black fluid continued to leak from his shoulder, but he didn't look at it.
He slowly raised his remaining hand, as if gathering something within himself.
I felt the change in the environment.
The air grew heavier, as though an invisible pressure was spreading outward.
My body tensed instinctively, and my sword felt heavier in my grip.
Before a violent wave surged toward me—
It slammed into my chest, forcing me back a step and making breathing painful.
My muscles stiffened, as if my body refused to move.
I tried to move, but my legs didn't respond right away.
It felt like walking against a powerful current—every motion required twice the effort.
I tightened my grip on the sword, sweat running down my forehead despite the cold air.
He took a single step forward.
The impact was heavy, as if the ground itself responded to him.
The pressure increased. My chest tightened further, each breath becoming agony.
The taste of blood returned to my mouth.
I forced myself to stand firm, digging my feet into the ground, resisting the crushing force.
The pressure wasn't constant—it increased little by little.
My knees began to tremble. My muscles were so tense they ached.
Every instinct screamed at me to retreat—but I clung to my position.
I raised my sword slowly.
My arms felt unbearably heavy, and the blade no longer moved as it once had.
My breathing was ragged, each exhale burning my chest even more.
He took another step.
And with it, the pressure spiked suddenly.
My head grew heavy, my chest compressed violently, and I nearly dropped to my knees.
I clenched my teeth and forced myself to remain standing.
The sounds around me faded.
I could no longer hear clearly—only my heartbeat pounding violently in my ears.
In that moment, I understood.
Staying where I was would get me killed.
I took a short breath and moved with everything I had left.
I activated Ghost Step.
For a fleeting instant, my body slipped out of its position.
The crushing pressure eased, and that was enough.
I appeared close to him—closer than I expected.
I didn't raise my sword.
Instead, I thrust my hand forward and released Altaria's threads at the same moment.
The threads shot out, wrapping around him before he could react.
I pulled with all my strength.
His balance broke.
The pressure vanished instantly.
I didn't hesitate.
I stepped forward once, raised my sword, and struck with everything I had.
It wasn't a clean or precise strike—but it was enough.
The battle didn't end immediately.
My blow didn't drop him outright. His body swayed, stepping back once, but he remained standing.
The recoil surged through my arms, sharp pain exploding in my shoulders until I nearly dropped the sword.
He began pulling against the threads violently.
They shook, and I felt they might snap at any moment.
I tightened them with what little strength I had left, my breathing broken, my chest burning.
He attempted one last attack—a desperate motion.
I barely dodged in time. I lost my balance for a moment, my footing unstable.
Before I could fully recover—
I thrust my sword forward again, with everything my body had left.
It wasn't a refined strike.
It was a final attempt.
A strike made with every remaining ounce of strength.
Then—everything stopped.
His body went limp.
The threads lost their tension.
The suffocating pressure disappeared, as if the space itself finally exhaled.
As for me—I could no longer stand.
I dropped to my knees, gasping, the sword slipping from my hand.
Pain flooded back all at once, and exhaustion paralyzed me.
I didn't immediately register his fall.
I stared at him for several long seconds, as if my body refused to believe the battle was over.
My chest rose and fell violently, each breath burning my lungs like the air itself had turned into tiny blades.
I tried to stand, but my knees betrayed me.
They trembled violently before giving out, and I collapsed to the ground again.
My palm struck the stone floor beneath me, a sharp pain shooting from my fingers to my shoulders.
The pain was no longer localized.
My entire body had become a single scream.
I lifted my head with difficulty and looked at him again.
He lay motionless on the ground.
A strange ache tightened in my chest…
If I had missed that final strike.
If I had been half a second slower—
I would be the one lying there now.
I reached for the sword with trembling fingers.
They didn't respond at first—stiff, as if they no longer belonged to me. It took two attempts before I managed to grip the hilt.
When I did, my body protested silently—sharp pain surged through my arms and into my back.
I exhaled slowly.
"It's over…"
The word left my lips as a whisper, barely audible—but it was enough.
I tried to stand, leaning on the sword.
A single step was enough to make my vision darken.
Black spots danced before my eyes, forcing me to stop before collapsing again.
I steadied myself, breathing, waiting for sensation to return to my limbs.
I heard nothing but—
I scanned my surroundings cautiously.
I looked back at him once more.
There was no movement.
"…Oof."
I finally loosened my grip on the sword and allowed my body to give in.
I sat down, leaning my back against a nearby rock.
Cold seeped into me gradually, followed by a light shiver I couldn't control.
I closed my eyes for a few seconds.
Then opened them quickly.
I let out a long breath and tried to steady my breathing despite the pain.
I had to move.
I had to take what I came here for.
Using the sword for support, I stood.
It wasn't easy—my chest tightened violently, and my back felt as though someone had stabbed a blade into it and left it there.
I ignored the pain and walked.
One step… then another.
The chamber was unnaturally quiet—the kind of silence that offered no comfort.
At its center stood a low stone platform, ancient, as if it had been placed there ages ago and never touched since.
On top of it rested a small sphere, barely the size of my fist.
Its color wasn't fixed—it shifted slowly, as if it were breathing.
I reached out to take it—
But before my fingers could touch it
—
I heard a voice behind me.
"Finally… I've found you. You really made me lose you in that forest."
My body froze.
My hand stopped midair. I didn't even dare to breathe.
Slowly, I turned toward the voice.
And the moment my eyes fell on him—
I felt the blood drain from my face.
Damn it…
Why is he here?