[ Inside the Wheel of Judgment ]
The atmosphere inside the curtain of golden light was dead silent, as if the outside world had been completely severed.
There was no wind, no sound of explosions from the battle outside. There was only the sound of Murphy's breathing and his own heart pounding heavily in his ears.
The pale boy slowly unclasped his white, gold-trimmed cloak, letting it slide off his shoulders and fall into a heap on the floor.
Underneath, he wore a form-fitting black bodysuit that accentuated his lean, proportionate muscles. He looked agile, streamlined, and dangerous.
He rolled his shoulders. Crack... pop... The sound of bones shifting echoed clearly in the silence.
"To be honest..."
The boy tilted his head from side to side to loosen his neck muscles. A relaxed smirk played on his lips, contrasting sharply with the life-or-death situation.
"I'm actually much better at close-quarters combat... Magic is such a hassle. Chanting spells, calculating mana... it's annoying as hell."
As he finished speaking, he shifted his feet slightly, sinking into a low crouch.
His stance appeared relaxed, yet it was devoid of any openings. It belonged to no martial art Murphy had ever seen or studied. It was formless, lawless, yet filled with raw, savage instinct—like a wild predator ready to pounce on its prey at any moment.
His palms were open and held loosely. The eyes that were once calm and still now burned with the spark of amusement.
"Murphy..."
He spoke the name for the first time, his voice laced with challenge.
Murphy didn't offer any words in return.
He remained silent, waiting patiently for an opening. His right hand gripped the hilt of 'Dark Fang' so tightly his knuckles turned white.
Even though their physical stats had been equalized... the pressure radiating from this being's millennia of experience still pricked at his skin like needles.
Beads of sweat rolled down his forehead, past his brow, and dripped onto the marble floor. Drip...
Murphy stared intently at his opponent's feet and shoulders, daring not to blink for even a millisecond.
He knew... the moment the opponent moved, death would come knocking.
The boy beckoned gently with his fingers.
"Come on... don't make me wait."