Valen drove his foot into Eryndor’s stomach, sending him hurtling through the air. He crashed through several houses before finally skidding to a stop.

Aveline lunged at Valen, her axe slicing through the air. Valen didn’t back down. He met her head-on, his spear flashing as they clashed. Sparks flew, weapons locking in a brutal contest of strength—until Valen wrenched her axe from her grip. Before she could react, his spear found its mark, piercing her stomach. Aveline staggered back, her hands already moving, golden light sealing the wound in seconds.

Valen raised a finger and intoned, "[Holy Torrent]! [Well of Darkness]!"

A beam of energy shot from his fingertip, wrapped in a swirling mass of black mist. It slammed into the barrier protecting her from magic projectiles, but Valen had expected that. He didn’t aim to break through—he aimed to overwhelm. He wanted to show that he was different from people of their ages.

The dark mist devoured the barrier, twisting around it like living shadows. Then, the beam punched through.

Aveline barely had time to react before it struck her stomach. She hit the ground hard, blood spilling from her lips as she struggled to breathe.

Aveline tried to heal, but nothing happened. Her magic flickered, useless against the wound carved into her flesh.

Valen chuckled, amused by her struggle. "The [Well of Darkness] cancels holy power for a limited time," he explained. "You can dispel it—but it'll cost you a third of your mana."

Aveline didn’t hesitate. Mana surged from her core, forcing away the dark mist coiling around her. The black aura shattered, vanishing like smoke in the wind. She pressed a hand to her wound, and golden light mended the injury. When she stood, her breath was heavy, her body strained—but her resolve hadn’t wavered.

Valen watched her, admiration flickering in his gaze. Strength. Honor. Beauty. A rare combination. He smiled. "Become my concubine." His voice carried no mockery, only desire. "Your beauty and honor move me. I want you to be mine."

Aveline narrowed her eyes. "Are you out of your mind?"

Valen let out a low chuckle. "I used to plot and scheme, building my power in the shadows. But now?" He gestured at the battlefield around them, at the destruction left. "Now that I hold absolute power, I’ll take whatever I want." His gaze met hers, unwavering. "If you agree, I’ll treat you well."

Aveline scoffed. "I’d rather die."

"Then allow me to join you."

Eryndor stepped beside her, bloodied but unbowed. "Your resolve moves me, Aveline. If you choose death, I’ll stand with you."

Together, they raised their weapons.

Valen sighed, rolling his shoulders. "Very well," he said, voice calm, almost bored. Then, his eyes darkened.

"Die."

Valen gripped his spear, mana swirling around him like a raging storm. Power surged through the weapon.

Aveline raised her axe, golden light radiating from its edge. Beside her, Eryndor’s sword pulsed with a deep blue glow, the mana in it roaring to life.

Valen smirked. “[Abyssal Lance].”

Aveline’s voice rang out. “[Heaven’s Gale]!”

Eryndor followed. “[Azure Requiem]!”

With a flick of his wrist, Valen hurled his spear. It shot forward, transforming into a blinding beam of destruction. Aveline swung her axe, unleashing a massive golden arc. Eryndor followed, his blade carving through the air, sending a colossal blue crescent to meet Valen’s attack. The forces collided with a deafening roar, the air trembling under the impact.

For a moment, their combined might held against the abyssal spear. But only for a moment.

Valen’s attack surged forward, tearing through their defenses and racing toward them with unstoppable force.

Then—

A figure descended from the sky.

Clad in noble armor, the man landed between them. As the spear’s beam bore down, he raised his hand. No shield, no weapon—just his bare palm.

The impact shook the ground, a shockwave blasting outward. However, the man stood firm. With a swift motion, he redirected the beam, sending it veering off course, carving a deep trench into the land beyond.

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Aveline’s breath caught in her throat. She recognized that towering frame, the broad shoulders clad in noble armor. The man who had just diverted Valen’s attack with nothing but his hand.

She whispered, “Father?”

Garrick Stormrend turned to her, a scolding expression on his face. “Aveline,” he said. “You’ve wandered into dangerous territory. I’ve come to take you home.”

Aveline sighed in relief. However, the weight of everything crashed down on her. The deaths of her comrades. The death of townsfolk. Her legs gave out, and she fell to her knees, tears spilling freely.

“Father… I’ve led thousands to their deaths.” Her voice trembled. “I have to take responsibility.”

Garrick stepped closer, his voice firm yet gentle. “And you will, but you must be alive to do so. Now, come. We’re leaving.”

Valen’s eye twitched. Leaving? Just like that? Did they think they could walk away from his holy ritual? His fingers curled into a fist, frustration boiling over.

He gritted his teeth. “Darius,” he muttered under his breath, “are you just going to watch as they come and go as they please?”

The air buzzed. A faint noise at first, then a deafening swarm. Mosquitoes poured in from every direction, merging into a single figure—Darius.

The man smirked. “You sure have no honor, Duke Stormrend, disturbing the fights of the younger generation.”

Garrick scoffed. “Spare me the slander. I’d respect the ritual if it were truly just, but you and I both know this so-called ‘holy ritual’ is a farce. A puppet show with strings pulled from the shadows. I wonder…” His gaze sharpened. “Would your Sovereign be pleased to hear how you've tainted it?”

Darius chuckled. “Ah… you’re not wrong, but the solution is simple, then.”

The air turned heavy as Darius emitted his aura.

“I’ll just erase the witnesses.”

Garrick exhaled, unshaken. “Can you defeat me?”

Darius shrugged. “Want to try?”

The sky darkened. Shadows stretched over the ruin as dozens of colossal mosquitoes, each the size of a fortress, descended from above, their monstrous wings stirring the air.

Garrick remained still. Then, he raised a hand. Golden light erupted, and an enormous battle axe materialized in his grasp, its edge gleaming with divine power.

Tension crackled between them, a moment stretched thin, ready to snap. Then, they heard a cough. Not a loud one, not forceful, but dry and weak. It slipped through the heavy silence, threading its way past the tension.

Garrick’s grip on his axe loosened ever so slightly. Darius’s amused smirk wavered. Even Valen, seething as he was, felt the urge to turn his head. Their gazes shifted.

An old man approached, his long silver hair draping over his shoulders, his robes trailing along the ground. He walked slowly, as if he had all the time in the world. His face, lined with age, held an expression neither threatening nor meek—just calm. He smiled.

“Can we negotiate?”

Garrick's grip on his axe remained firm as his eyes narrowed. “Who are you?”

The old man bowed slightly. “It is an honor, Lord Vex,” he greeted, his voice even, respectful.

Darius cocked his head, studying him for a moment before letting out a small chuckle. “So, it's you, the sect leader of the Crimson Moon Sect,” he said. "Why have you come here?”

The old man kept his bow a moment longer before straightening. “I come humbly, not to interfere, but to offer a solution. I ask permission to speak.”

Darius waved a hand lazily. “Go on.”

With a composed nod, the old man continued, “I propose that both Aveline and Eryndor be allowed to leave with their lives. In return, Lord Valen shall be declared the winner of this ritual.”

Eryndor, who could no longer see, felt a deep warmth in his chest at those words. Even in darkness, he could recognize kindness when he heard it.

Darius, however, burst into laughter. “A winner who doesn’t kill his opponent? Ridiculous! The rules demand only one survivor.”

The old man remained unfazed. “I am not asking you to break the rules, Lord Vex. The Sovereign’s attention is elsewhere, is it not? That is why you currently hold full authority over this ritual. Simply declare Eryndor as dead. The Sovereign will not question it—after all, the Heavenly Demon class has successfully awakened.”

Darius stroked his chin, then chuckled. “You always had a way with words, Craig Rothshade. But tell me—what’s in it for me?”

The old man turned his gaze to Valen and lowered his head in another bow. “My Lord Valen, the Third Heavenly Demon,” he said smoothly. “This offer is not for Lord Vex, but for you. If you spare Eryndor, I shall ensure he becomes your loyal servant.”

Valen raised an eyebrow.

The old man continued, “Eryndor possesses great potential. With your guidance, he will grow into a formidable retainer. You would gain not just a strong warrior, but a loyal asset.”

Darius smirked, thoroughly entertained. “Very well. Speak to Valen yourself.”

Valen considered the offer, his eyes lingering on the blinded warrior. “Eryndor, if I allow you to live, will you swear loyalty to me?”

The old man’s voice turned toward Eryndor now. “This ritual no longer holds meaning.”

Eryndor let out a weary sigh. “My origin is Assertion,” he admitted. “I cannot bow to another. However…” He hesitated before continuing, “I find strength admirable. I always hold the desire to assert myself upon a strong individual. If it is someone like you, Valen, then being by your side is something I wouldn’t reject. I would listen to your commands as long as it doesn't break my rules, but I do not bow to you. I will use every chance to assert myself in your heart.”

Valen’s lips curled into a grin. “Interesting,” he mused. “Then, you can try. I will absolutely tame you.” His gaze flicked to Darius, giving a single nod.

Darius exhaled through his nose, then shrugged. “Fine. I declare Eryndor dead. You may leave.” His smirk returned. “But tell me, Craig, why should I extend the same courtesy to those from the Orthodox Faction?”

The old man’s smile remained, unshaken. “I do not doubt your strength, Lord Vex. However, even if you defeat Duke Stormrend, he will escape alive. And once he does, word of this ritual will reach the Sovereign.”

Darius narrowed his eyes. "Are you suggesting I let them go to seal their mouths?"

Craig bowed slightly, his voice calm and polite. "Yes, Lord Vex. That is my humble suggestion."

Darius turned his gaze to Garrick. "And you? Will you keep your mouth shut?"

Garrick met his eyes without hesitation. "On the honor of the Stormrend Family, I will not disclose your manipulation in this ritual."

Darius tapped his fingers against his arm, deep in thought. Silence stretched between them. Then, with a flick of his wrist, he spoke. "You can go."

Without another word, Garrick stepped forward, lifting Aveline into his arms. He turned, wings of golden mana flaring to life behind him, and soared into the sky.

Darius watched them disappear, then turned to Valen with a smirk. "Congratulations," he said. "You win this game."