"You're bleeding."

Javier Franco’s twisted grin grew even wider, as though he couldn’t contain his excitement at the sight of blood. His eyes gleamed with a fervor bordering on madness. He chuckled softly, slowly advancing toward Dennis.

"So, what’s that supposed to mean?"

Dennis casually wiped the blood from his cheek. In contrast to Javier, who was now covered in dirt and his own sweat, Dennis remained almost pristine, save for the wound on his face.

"You know what it means."

Javier’s voice remained jagged, but his demeanor had changed. His gaze, fixed on Dennis, was like that of a child who’d found a new toy to enjoy. His long, skeletal limbs moved with an unsettling looseness as he advanced. The aura trailing from his sword oozed dark and murky, like sewage.

"Now, let’s make this clear."

Javier turned his gaze toward the audience, his unsettling eyes locking onto Arsen Bern. Following the Count's orders, he was to maul Dennis here and then eliminate Arsen Bern next. Javier’s giggle echoed in the arena. He always enjoyed carrying out the Count's commands.

"Yes, I’ll make sure he sees every bit of your miserable defeat."

Dennis calmly raised his sword, his aura burning bright, sky blue, determined to dispel Javier’s foul energy. Javier, eyes filled with crazed delight, muttered to himself.

"Blood... blood... a sea of blood."

And with that, both knights vanished in an instant. Their auras flared, propelling them into a rapid clash of blades that left faint afterimages in the air.

Clang! Clang! Boom!

Unlike before, when they fought without aura, now fierce metallic clashes filled the arena. Dennis’s shining blade bore down on Javier’s sickly green aura, with Dennis pressing from above and Javier laughing madly as he pushed up from below.

Ching!

Their swords scraped sharply against each other. Dennis leaped, shifting to attack from behind, but Javier, as if he had eyes on his back, twisted around to block the strike.

Dennis glanced at Javier’s awkwardly bent arm holding the sword in place. Javier turned his head, sneering.

"I told you, didn’t I?"

Dennis’s expression twisted in frustration. As their auras clashed, Javier’s dark green aura began seeping into Dennis’s, like ink spreading through water. Dennis poured more mana into his aura to maintain the balance.

"You cannot defeat me."

Javier pushed harder, forcing Dennis back despite his slender frame. Regaining his balance, Javier didn’t even bother to reset his stance and charged forward immediately. Dennis grumbled in annoyance but quickly intercepted Javier’s oncoming strike.

"Why don’t you…"

Dennis twisted his grip, glaring at Javier’s grotesque face through the clashing auras. He gritted his teeth and shouted,

"…talk all you want once you’ve actually won!"

Dennis exerted more strength, and this time it was Javier who was pushed back. Dennis didn’t simply let him retreat; the instant he gained the advantage, he pressed the attack.

Thunk.

Dennis closed the distance, swinging down with all his might onto Javier’s slanted blade.

Crack!

The sound was like a hundred mirrors shattering simultaneously. For the second time in the match, Javier was flung across the arena, rolling to a stop. Dennis chased after him, and though Javier was responding slowly, he maintained an uncanny balance as he defended himself in the dust cloud.

Bang! Bang!

Dennis unleashed a relentless series of attacks. Javier, who had previously been on the offensive, was now struggling just to keep up. The accumulated blows began to take a toll on his body, despite his ever-present grotesque smile.

As Dennis took control, the crowd erupted.

"Yes! Keep pressing him!"

"Didn’t stand a chance against him, huh?"

Maxime and Charlotte exchanged tense glances. Even though Dennis was pushing Javier back, Javier blocked every strike that could have decided the match. Charlotte's face grew increasingly anxious until she couldn’t hold back.

"This is bad."

Christine, puzzled, looked at them.

"What’s wrong?"

"He has to end this now, even if it means exhausting his aura," Charlotte replied in a firm voice, and Maxime nodded beside her.

"There’s no guarantee he’ll get another chance like this. Javier Franco won’t allow it."

Dennis’s aura grew brighter, and Javier’s aura, heavier and darker, surged to match.

"If he doesn’t finish it now, there won’t be another chance."

Maxime murmured, his gaze troubled as he watched the battle unfold. Dennis surely understood this better than anyone.

Ching!

Aura clashed again, and Dennis could still press harder, but Javier managed to deflect each strike. Though damage was accumulating, it wasn’t enough to settle the score. Under the dim glow of the clashing aura, Javier’s twisted grin remained.

Stay calm.

Dennis reminded himself. He had the momentum and needed to decide the fight now, but Javier still showed no gaps. If he couldn’t find an opening, he’d have to break through with raw power. Dennis poured more mana into his blade.

Clang! Clang!

Javier’s defense, which had seemed unbreakable, began to crack. His sword couldn’t fully block Dennis’s aura-laden attacks. Javier tried to throw Dennis’s blade off to counter, but Dennis, intent on ending the match, pressed forward despite sustaining some wounds. Finally, his relentless assault bore fruit.

Thunk.

Dennis’s kick completely threw Javier off balance. His frail form was momentarily airborne. Dennis gripped his sword with both hands, bringing it down on the airborne Javier.

Swoosh—

Aura, steel, and the winter wind intersected, leaving a sharp, ringing note. Sensing the end of the match, the crowd roared. Dennis’s blue mana exploded across the arena.

Boom!!

Dust filled the air, and a long streak marked where Javier had been sent sprawling. The audience's cheers turned into hushed murmurs.

"Is it over? Javier was holding on for so long."

"Referee! What are you waiting for?"

Dennis panted, staring through the dust, but felt uneasy. He’d aimed to shatter Javier’s sword with that strike, but it hadn’t. He should have ended it there, but he hadn’t. Through the dust, Javier’s silhouette emerged.

"Heh… heh heh."

Javier was laughing. As the dust cleared, his face bore the most disturbing grin yet. His body was battered, his head bleeding profusely, and his aura weakened, but he was still standing. The match wasn’t over. Dragging his feet, Javier lurched toward Dennis.

"That… was close. Really close."

His voice slurred as he spoke, his mouth gaping like a shark’s maw. Javier dragged his sword across the ground, his aura leaving faint scars on the floor.

"Yes, it should’ve ended there."

The audience murmured at Javier’s eerie, zombie-like persistence. He raised his sword again, while Dennis, battered and struggling, tightened his grip. By now, his body was bruised and cut, much like the knights Javier had defeated before him.

"So, is it my turn now?"

Javier lifted his sword, pointing it at Dennis. Dennis laughed dryly, looking at the sword aimed at him. His attack had failed. Javier Franco wouldn’t fall for the same strategy again. Was there a next move? Perhaps not, but he couldn’t let Javier advance to face Arsen in the semifinals.

Move.

Javier sprang forward. Dennis, his reactions slower than before, managed to block. Javier noticed and smirked, slashing again, adding another wound to Dennis. Blood splattered, and Javier’s eyes gleamed with excitement.

"Slowing down, are we?"

"Screw you."

Dennis spat a curse, swinging his sword with waning aura. The mana reserves that had once been abundant were now running low from his earlier assault.

Clang!

Javier’s blade clashed with Dennis’s, their auras now evenly matched. Javier, seemingly tireless, sped up his attacks, slashing Dennis again and again. The audience members who had been cheering for Javier fell silent.

"Why don’t you just give up?"

Javier’s strangled laughter seeped through his gritted teeth. Dennis, panting, deflected Javier’s strikes one after another. For every time Dennis parried, Javier struck him twice.

"You think I’m just going to let you go?"

Dennis gritted his teeth, his fierce gaze meeting Javier’s. Though mana flowed through his body at a frenzied pace, dulling his pain, he couldn’t ignore the accumulating wounds. He forced himself to stay calm, his breath heavy, his eyes wide with focus. Javier responded to Dennis’s defiance with a widening grin.

"Then I’m grateful."

Their blades clashed, the sound mingling with the tearing of flesh. The audience sensed the danger looming over Dennis, realizing that if he didn’t surrender, the brutal onslaught might end his life.

"Isn’t this getting out of hand?"

"Why won’t Dennis just give up? It’s over!"

"How could he surrender here, in front of so many people, and in the quarterfinals?"

Some in the crowd glanced at the referee, who stood silently, observing as Dennis’s wounds increased and blood pooled on the arena floor. The referee showed no sign of stopping the match.

"It’s useless."

Javier slashed Dennis’s shoulder, noticing his fleeting glance toward the referee.

"The referee won’t stop this match."

Dennis gasped, blood trickling from multiple wounds, but he wasn’t giving up. Though his body ached from blood loss, his resolve remained. Javier looked at Dennis in genuine fascination.

"Good. I was worried they might intervene."

Dennis replied, struggling, "That just means I still have a chance to knock you out."

Javier’s grin widened, and his sword strikes grew faster. With both knights now nearly devoid of aura, their blades clashed repeatedly. When Dennis deflected Javier’s sword, Javier grinned.

"Now, this might start to hurt."

Thunk.

Dennis’s face contorted as Javier’s narrow sword pierced his left shoulder, protruding out the other side. Blood splattered to the ground. Before Dennis could react, Javier pulled his sword free and prepared for another thrust.

"This time, I’m aiming to kill."

The crowd gasped, watching Dennis struggle, his body covered in fresh wounds. Charlotte ground her teeth in frustration. Maxime stared at the ongoing fight with a hollow expression.

Javier’s blade grazed Dennis’s body repeatedly—piercing his leg, slashing across his chest. Dennis refused to yield, fighting on despite the injuries. The referee remained impassive, showing no intention of stopping the match, despite Dennis’s evident danger.

"That idiot… why won’t he just surrender? Is his pride really worth all this?"

Charlotte’s hands trembled. Dennis refused to quit, but she could understand his reasons. She knew he didn’t want to let Javier advance to face Arsen with that sinister, ruthless swordsmanship.

"Just have faith in him for once."

Maxime gripped Baek-Ah tightly, the blade resonating with a low hum in response to his emotions.

Win.

Become a knight of the royal court as Maxime Apart once again.

The king’s command echoed in Maxime’s mind, telling him to think only of victory. He had to restore everything.

"Can everything really go back to how it was?"

Christine’s question echoed again as she watched the fight, her face pale. Maxime, remembering his own words, thought, Perhaps not, but we can still right the wrongs.

Win your match.

The words he’d spoken to Theodora resurfaced—someone he’d vowed to protect, someone he needed to save from their tangled past. He recalled her platinum hair, the sound it made as it brushed against his face in the forge.

What do you want?

To be saved.

He recalled his response to Nyra’s words: I want to be saved by saving others.

I...

The crowd murmured, sensing something dire might happen.

"This isn’t good."

"Why won’t Dennis just surrender?"

Maxime watched as Javier crept toward Dennis like a shadow. He could feel Javier’s intent—a murderous resolve to end Dennis here. An inner voice questioned, Will you watch another person die before you again?

Would Theodora be happy if she knew he’d only watched?

No.

She’d be furious, disgusted, angry, only to blame herself again, tightening the knot between them. But if he could save her...

Enough.

Maxime cut off his thoughts. When had such musings ever led to the outcome he wanted?

What are you waiting for, then? an inner voice asked. Maxime gripped Baek-Ah, unwilling to lose someone again.

"Arsen?"

Charlotte’s voice came from beside him. Maxime had risen and unsheathed Baek-Ah. His heartbeat resonated with the hum of his sword. Charlotte stood up, startled.

"What are you…?"

"Could you tell the senior I’m sorry afterward?"

Maxime gripped Baek-Ah tightly. Jumping down would take too long—this was faster. Baek-Ah seemed ready, resonating more powerfully than ever.

Yes.

Maxime focused his mana, targeting the space between Dennis and Javier. Mana surged through his body as he raised his right hand.

==

Thunk.

The metallic sound of a blade piercing flesh echoed again as Javier’s sword impaled Dennis’s foot, sending him sprawling to the ground. Dennis’s eyes flashed, and he tried to counter, but Javier withdrew his blade and kicked Dennis back.

Wham.

Dennis tumbled across the arena like a limp doll. He struggled to rise, planting his sword into the ground to hold himself up. Javier, eyes filled with an unyielding bloodlust, watched Dennis.

Toy with him a bit longer, then deliver the fatal blow, just as the Count ordered.

The end was near. Javier tightened his grip on his sword.

Dennis looked back toward the audience, where Charlotte, Christine, and Arsen sat. He had to hold on—if he could just buy a little time to recover. He ignored the shadow of death closing in.

Javier shrugged, bemused by Dennis’s tenacity, and gripped his sword in a reverse hold. He’d take his time, kill him slowly, then exit the tournament as per the rules.

"I told you, you cannot—"

What?

Javier stopped, noticing Dennis’s shocked gaze past him.

"What…?"

Before he could finish, a falling star streaked across the winter sky.

Boom!!

A massive plume of dust erupted as Javier stumbled back, squinting to see through it. Then his eyes widened in shock.

A jet-black sword was embedded in the ground before him, blocking his path.