The words were barely a whisper.
"Cinder Severance."
SHING.
A line of darkness cut through the world.
Elrond's eyes widened. He tried to swing his Holy Sword, but his hands…
didn't respond.
THUD.
THUD.
Two severed hands, still gripping the hilt of the legendary sword, fell to the ground.
Elrond stared at his wrists.
Blood sprayed like a geyser.
CRACK—BOOOOOOM!
The force of the slash didn't stop there.
It traveled past Elrond, slicing the arena floor in two.
A fissure—ten meters deep and black as the abyss—ripped open, separating the two combatants.
Silence.
Absolute.
Terrifying.
Silence.
Elrond fell to his knees.
His pride.
His strength.
His sword.
All stripped away in a single second.
"Ah…" Elrond gasped, staring at his stumps.
"My… sword…"
VIP Chamber
Melian slammed her hands against the glass.
"FATHER!" she screamed, her voice cracking.
"Stop it! You said he just had to touch him! He touched him! STOP THE FIGHT!"
King Aelindor stood frozen.
He watched the blood pool around Elrond.
He didn't just touch him…
He dismantled him.
Suddenly—
BANG!
The doors burst open.
"MY LORD! MY LORD!"
A soldier, covered in dust and sweat, collapsed at the King's feet.
"We have news! News from the warfront!"
The King didn't look away.
"Speak."
"The war… it was a tie, My Lord! No one won!"
The King frowned.
"A tie? Between Sasha and Roric? Impossible."
"It wasn't them!" the soldier gasped.
"It was… a creature. A creature fell from the sky!"
The arena felt colder.
"Just by releasing his Aura, he brought the two strongest warriors to their knees!
5.5 billion soldiers… unconscious in a second!"
The King's heart stopped.
He looked down.
At the white-haired boy standing calmly amid ruin.
"No rank.
No history.
Power that defied logic."
"Are you saying…" the King whispered,
"that this person… can be him?"
"Yes, My Lord! But we couldn't confirm! The creature had no Aura signature!
He was a ghost!"
The King's eyes snapped wide.
Awareness… Uncertainty…
It's him.
He spun around.
"ALL OF YOU!" he roared.
"Amreth! Kalmen! Arwen! Alith!"
"STOP HIM! NOW!"
The Arena Floor
BOOOOOOM!
The Special Grade Knights descended.
Markil stood there, staring at Elrond.
Maybe I went a little too hard, he thought.
I just wanted to shake his pride… not turn him into an amputee.
"Hey, Cap—"
WOOSH.
A chill crawled up his spine.
SHING. SHING. SHING. SHING.
In a blink, he was surrounded.
Left — Kalmen's dagger at his jugular.
Right — Amreth's blade at his ribs.
Behind — Alith's wire around his ankles.
Above — Arwen, arrow aimed between his eyes.
Markil swallowed.
Whoa… they're fast.
Thoos taught me how to destroy mountains…
He didn't teach me what to do when I get jumped by ninjas.
Elrond coughed blood.
"Don't…" he wheezed.
"Stop… it's our fight…"
"Sorry, Captain," Amreth said, smile gone.
"The King ordered it."
Elrond looked at Markil.
"How…" he whispered.
"How can you be so powerful… you're just a human…"
Markil looked at the sky.
What do I say?
'I trained in a red dimension with a psychopath'?
He sighed.
"I don't even know myself," Markil said softly.
"But there's one thing that motivates me."
Elrond listened, clinging to consciousness.
"I have failed thousands of times," Markil quoted,
"but still… I stand up."
Elrond's eyes widened.
"He… he is…"
His eyes rolled back.
Unconscious.
Markil winced internally.
Oh fuck. I used movie lines and he passed out.
He cleared his throat.
"So… can you release the swords now? I won, right?"
Kalmen's glare could cut steel.
"Shut up, trash."
The King Descends
THUD.
King Aelindor landed in the arena.
He walked over shattered stone and stopped before Markil.
"Tell me," the King said gravely.
"Who are you… actually?"
Kalmen scoffed.
"This filth?"
"You don't understand," the King said quietly.
"We are in big trouble."
"He can wipe you out," the King continued.
"All of you. In an instant."
Kalmen's jaw dropped.
Then—
The King did the impossible.
He bent his knees.
He lowered his head.
The King of the Elves bowed.
"My Lord!" Kalmen screamed.
"Father!" Melian cried.
"Please," the King whispered.
"Help my people."
Markil froze.
My mom would kill me if she saw this.
"Okay! Enough!" Markil shouted.
"Get up already! You're making it weird!"
The King rose, smiling in relief.
"Thank you," he said.
"Sir Markil."
"SIR?!" Kalmen choked.
Markil grinned.
"Get used to it, Scarface.
Looks like I'm your boss now."
Kalmen stared at the sky.
"I quit," he muttered.
"I officially quit reality."
The King's words echoed in his skull.
He can wipe you out. In an instant.
Kalmen's gaze drifted back to Markil.
That goofy smile.
That relaxed posture.
That complete lack of fear.
No Aura pressure.
No killing intent.
Nothing.
And yet—
Kalmen swallowed.
No…
That slash…
His mind replayed it.
The moment Markil whispered Cinder Severance.
No buildup.
No chant.
No mana surge.
Just—
SHING.
Kalmen's breath hitched.
"That wasn't a sword technique…" he muttered under his breath.
"It wasn't mana reinforcement either…"
His pupils shrank.
"That was conceptual severance."
His fingers went numb.
It didn't cut flesh…
It cut the idea of "connection."
Kalmen's heartbeat spiked.
"That attack didn't care about durability… or defense… or rank…"
"It just decided that the sword… and the hands… should no longer be attached."
His throat went dry.
"Oh no…"
Kalmen's eyes widened in horror.
If that blade had moved a little higher…
His mind spiraled.
Neck.
Spine.
Existence.
Cold sweat poured down his back.
"Oh no… oh no… oh no…"
Kalmen finally understood.
(Chapter 23 Finished)