Saria's eyes fluttered open, the world swimming into view through a haze of pain. Her body screamed with every breath, throbbing and broken. She blinked, her vision sharpening enough to notice the crimson-soaked ground beneath her and the searing ache radiating from her right side. She tried to move her arm, but the stump where it had been brought a sickening wave of nausea. Her right arm was gone, severed. A deep wound marred her side.

Valen's spear stood embedded in the earth beside her. She tore her gaze from it and found him nearby. His body radiated heat, his charred robes still smoldering as wisps of smoke curled into the air. He was wounded, but his lips moved in a chant, a glow tracing over his blackened skin as his magic worked to mend him. The sight ignited a flicker of anger, but her fury faded as quickly as it rose. She tried to summon mana, to lash out at him, but her core was empty, hollowed by the battle.

Valen stirred. His chanting faltered as he opened his eyes, his gaze snapping to hers. The air seemed to hold its breath as the two locked eyes. An unspoken tension coiled between them. He shifted, attempting to rise despite his blistered flesh.

Panic gripped Saria. Was he going to strike her down? Her heart pounded, her breaths quick and shallow. She had no mana, no chance. Her instincts screamed at her to flee.

She gritted her teeth and willed her battered body to move. Each twitch of her muscles sent shards of pain slicing through her nerves, but she rolled onto her stomach and staggered to her feet. Her legs wobbled beneath her, but she pushed forward, her feet dragging through the blood-soaked ground. She darted toward the street, forcing herself to keep moving despite the agony clawing at her.

Her breathing was ragged. The coppery taste of blood filled her mouth, and she felt the drip of it from her side, marking her trail with crimson splatters. The world around her blurred as her focus narrowed to survival. Her footsteps were desperate.

Every sound seemed amplified in her heightened state—her heartbeat pounding in her ears, the faint hiss of wind through the ruins, and the wet patter of blood as it seeped from her wounds. She stumbled forward, away from Valen, away from the lingering shadow of death.

Valen's burnt hands trembled as he pressed them against his chest, his lips moving in incantations. Light magic flared to life in his palms, a soft yet blinding glow that poured into his battered body. The seared flesh began to knit together, blackened skin shedding to reveal pink tissue beneath. His breathing steadied. Despite the agony that clung to him like a shadow, his resilience shone through.

He pushed himself to his feet. The lingering heat of his wounds didn’t seem to deter him as the glow of his magic faded, leaving faint trails of steam rising from his body. His gaze flicked to the bloodstained path leading away from him, and his jaw tightened. Saria was running.

Without hesitation, Valen began to move, his strides long and purposeful. Though the pain still simmered in his limbs, he pushed through it, his focus singular. His keen eyes tracked the crimson splatters, guiding him down the winding streets.

He could hear her ahead—her frantic, uneven steps, the ragged gasp of her breathing. She was close. Valen’s pace quickened, a predator closing in on wounded prey.

Valen’s steps grew louder in Saria’s ears. She stumbled forward, her vision blurring, her body screaming for rest. Just as the shadow of his presence seemed to loom over her, another figure emerged from the smoke-drenched street.

Eryndor stepped into her path. His piercing eyes locked onto hers with disapproval.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” His voice rang out. “A quarter of the town is in ruins, Saria. Innocent lives died because of your recklessness.”

Saria winced. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out except a shallow wheeze. Her head dipped, avoiding his stare, but Eryndor wasn’t finished.

“You can’t keep fighting like this, thinking only of the enemy in front of you while ignoring the consequences. You’re better than this,” he said.

He stepped closer, his gaze flicking over her bloodied and battered form. With a resigned sigh, he reached out, steadying her with a hand on her shoulder. His expression softened further.

“Listen to me, Saria. You’re in no condition to fight him,” he said. “You need to keep moving. Go. Find shelter. I’ll handle Valen. After this, let's have a chat."

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Saria’s lips parted, but Eryndor cut her off with a glance over her shoulder. The sound of Valen’s boots echoed closer. Eryndor gave her a light push forward.

“Go!” he barked. “I’ll delay him as long as I can.”

Saria hesitated for only a moment before nodding weakly. Her body protested every movement, but she forced herself to stagger away, her uneven footsteps fading into the distance.

Eryndor straightened, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword as Valen approached. His eyes narrowed.

Valen’s steps slowed as he came to a stop, his eyes narrowing at Eryndor, who was blocking his path. The anger in his gaze smoldered.

“What are you doing, Eryndor? We’re in an alliance to defeat her, remember? She’s the enemy. Why are you protecting her?”

Eryndor met his gaze. “She’s been defeated, Valen. You’ve broken her.” His eyes flicked toward Saria’s retreating form, her blood staining the street. “There’s nothing more to gain from this fight.”

Valen’s patience thinned, his hands balling into fists. “You don’t get it, do you? We’re in a deathmatch, Eryndor. In the end, one of us will kill the other. We’ve both known this since the beginning. You can’t just—” He paused, his voice tightening. “You can’t just turn soft now. Not to mention, her demonic beasts are roaming about.”

Eryndor’s expression hardened, the slightest flicker of annoyance crossing his features. “The terms of our alliance were clear. We agreed to spare her life. Do you really think killing her now would honor that?”

Valen’s gaze sharpened, a cold laugh escaping him. “You’re ridiculous. This isn’t some noble mission of honor. We’re in this to win, to survive. Killing each other is inevitable.” He stepped forward, pushing past Eryndor with a quiet growl. “You’re just delaying the inevitable.”

Eryndor stepped in front of him again, unfazed. “No, Valen. We cannot kill each other yet. Not before everyone knows who I truly am. I have a lot to say. I want to speak to each of you, one by one. Only then will it be the right time.”

Valen paused, his brow furrowing in disbelief. “You’re ridiculous,” he muttered under his breath. “This is insane.” His eyes flicked to Eryndor, annoyance clear on his face.

Eryndor tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing. “So, are you going to fight me now, Valen? Are you really going to stop me?”

Valen exhaled sharply, clearly worn out by the conversation, and turned his gaze away. He rubbed his temples, his patience clearly fraying. “Do whatever you want. When you’re done playing your little games, I expect you to finish it. Kill her after you’re finished talking. I'm done with this. I'm not interested in claiming the reward of the first blood anymore."

With that, Valen turned on his heel. He didn't glance back as he walked away.

Far from those two, Saria’s legs faltered, her momentum slowing as if some invisible force had seized her, holding her in place. She tried to move, but her body refused to obey, as though it had been turned to stone. Panic surged through her, a cold knot tightening in her chest. Her breaths came in shallow gasps, her pulse racing. She was stuck, unable to move, every muscle in her body frozen in terror.

The ground beneath her seemed to tilt, her vision swimming in a blur. Then, without warning, a beam sliced through the air, piercing her head. The force of it sent a shockwave through her skull, and for a heartbeat, she thought her vision would explode into darkness, but she remained alive, her heart still thundering in her chest.

Her breath caught in her throat as fear clawed at her heart. She tried again to move, but her limbs remained rigid, frozen in place by some unseen force. Her mind screamed for control, her fingers twitching as she willed her body to respond, but it was no use.

Each passing second felt like an eternity.

The moment passed, the petrification lifting as quickly as it had come, but Saria’s body remained stiff and unyielding. Her knees buckled, and she collapsed to the ground, the weight of her wounds and exhaustion catching up to her. She tried to force herself up, but the effort was futile. Her body, drained and disobedient, refused to move.

From the shadowed alley, a figure stepped into view. He was a handsome man whose features seemed chiseled. His white hair cascaded around his face. His crimson eyes fell on her with disdain.

Arayn.

His eyes narrowed as he took in the sight of her, kneeling and broken before him, and a low chuckle escaped his lips. He looked genuinely surprised to see her still alive.

“Look at you, Worm,” he mused. “Still breathing. How quaint.” He crossed his arms, stepping closer. “I shot you in the head, and I thought you’d be dead by now, but here you are.” He glanced down at her.

Saria’s heart thundered in her chest, but she couldn’t bring herself to speak, her mouth dry as dust.

Arayn’s smirk deepened as he leaned down. “Funny, isn’t it? You once knelt before me like this. And now…” He straightened, eyes glinting with amusement. “Oh, well, I don't fancy wasting my time on a worm. Shall we end your suffering now?”

Saria’s breath hitched, the weight of his words sinking in like a stone lodged deep in her chest. Her mind screamed for action, but her body remained helpless beneath him.

Eryndor’s voice rang out. “Stop!”

Arayn paused, his smirk widening as he turned to face Eryndor. His crimson eyes gleamed with amusement. “Ah, Eryndor. I see you’re still clinging to your origin. I'm glad that you are here."

With a sudden grin, a second beam of energy shot from his outstretched hand, this one striking Saria’s forehead directly. The force of it slammed her to the ground, her body crumpling as she collapsed into a prostrating position, her face pressed against the earth.

Eryndor’s eyes widened in horror as he rushed to her side, his steps quick and determined. His hands hovered over her, attempting to assess the damage, but his attention remained on Arayn—who had already leapt back, a satisfied grin playing on his lips.

"One down. Four participants left," Arayn muttered to himself as he watched the scene unfold.