The moment the Elf King and the Demon King's fervor ignited, the whole mood of the fight shifted.
The Elf King had been fighting to protect his people — but now, he was starting to enjoy himself.
He gripped his sword tight and raised it high. The Demon King shifted his stance, gripping his own blade just as hard. Their eyes met — as if they were both counting down to the same moment.
Three seconds later, they lunged at each other, and the first barrier shattered.
The clash of their swords rang out loud and unrelenting. Neither of them so much as blinked through the violence of it — a blade cutting from the right, parried; a blade aimed at the skull, dodged; strikes trading back and forth as barrier after barrier gave way.
Their swords met for the tenth time — but this time, neither pulled back. The blades bent under the pressure, sparks scattering between their faces.
Both of them were smiling.
The two Kings stepped back, drawing out their power and fusing it into their swords.
The instant the Demon King unleashed his aura, the very spirits of the forest shrank back, their cries rising as though they were being burned alive. The trees shuddered, branches bowing low with no wind to move them. Even the ground itself seemed to recoil from his presence.
Still, both of them were smiling — hoping the fight would never end. The Demon King spoke.
"We're both holding back. What do you say we move this somewhere else?"
"Where would you have in mind?"
"There's a Dimension my ancestors forged — built to determine who's worthy of the throne."
"I like that idea," the Elf King said. "But I have two conditions."
"Name them."
"Your soldiers stay out of our duel. And your soldiers don't touch a single one of my people."
The Demon King agreed to the terms, and the battlefield shifted.
Once the arena had been moved, war drums began to beat — a battle the likes of which the Elves would never see again in their history.
Silence held for a moment.
There was no more hesitation left in either of their eyes.
This was no longer a confrontation between two kings.
It was a clash between two warriors who, for this one moment, had forgotten they were kings at all.
The Elf King tore off his crown and his robes. The moment he shed them, his aura surged to another level entirely.
The Demon King laughed. "So you were holding an ace up your sleeve."
The Elf King laughed back. "Let's finish what we started."
The Demon King drove his sword into the ground, choosing to face him bare-handed. The Elf King mirrored the gesture, and both swords fell to the earth.
Neither needed a blade anymore.
Now, their bodies alone would speak.
The Demon King struck first — he lunged, driving his fist into the Elf King's face. The Elf King didn't so much as stagger; he answered with two fast punches of his own. Both Kings reinforced their bodies with enhancement magic.
They traded steps that looked like a display of raw power — two steps, and then both of them vanished, an explosion of force tearing through the entire Dimension.
The Demon King took a punch to the gut and was launched into the sky. The Elf King leapt after him, seized his leg, and slammed him into the ground. The Demon King's body buried itself in the earth on impact. The Elf King came down on top of him, straddling his stomach, and blood spilled from the Demon King's mouth.
The Elf King sat over him and began raining down punches on his face.
Then he pulled back, leaving the Demon King behind him, certain the fight was over — that the Demon King had been beaten, that he'd surrender.
As he turned to retrieve his crown and robes, a blade whistled past his face and struck his discarded robe.
The Elf King turned, already walking away. He thought it was finished.
Then he heard a sound behind him.
Crack…
Crack…
It was Diablo, cracking his neck.
The Demon King let out a roar.
"What — did you think you'd won? The fight's only just begun."
Diablo kept cracking his neck, rolling his shoulders, stretching his arms out like a man gearing up for a new round. He spat blood from his mouth, then surged forward toward the Elf King.
The Elf King brought both hands up to guard his center, expecting the blow to come for his stomach or chest — but the Demon King's right hand swept his guard aside, and his left drove hard into the Elf King's ribs. The Elf King was thrown backward, slamming into a barrier hard enough to shatter it.
Blood soaked his clothes. He tried to process what had just happened — but the Demon King never gave him a single second to breathe. While the Elf King was still trying to gather himself, the Demon King was already standing over him.
He raised his right fist and drove it into the Elf King's lower chest. He raised his left and slammed it into his face. He grabbed him by the neck and hurled him skyward, then leapt after him with both fists raised, driving one into his face — sending him crashing to the earth hard enough to bury him in it.
The Demon King came down with both feet on his stomach, full force, then began pounding his face over and over. He raised both fists, dripping blood, and said:
"Don't you dare tell me you're dead. The fun hasn't even started."
The Elf King's face was shattered, disfigured beyond recognition. And still, he laughed.
"D-d… don't worry about me. If… it's a fight you want… it starts now."
Barely able to draw breath, the Elf King raised his hand, pulled a blade out of thin air, and severed the Demon King's left foot.
He kicked the Demon King skyward. Standing, he pressed his hand to his side — as if drawing a sword from an invisible sheath — released a surge of power, then pulled it free and struck the Demon King with it.
The Demon King's arm and the entire right side of his body were severed clean off, and he crashed to the ground.
The Elf King shouted:
"Don't think I'm going back for my crown and robes. You haven't beaten me yet."
The Demon King laughed. "Exactly what I'd expect from my rival."
While the Demon King lay on the ground, his sword came soaring toward the Elf King. He tried to dodge it — couldn't — and it drove straight into his lower chest. The blade fought to push deeper, but he seized it and tore it out with everything he had.
The instant he ripped the sword free, he turned back around — and found the Demon King standing right in front of him.
The Elf King's eyes went wide.
There was no wound.
No blood.
No trace of the strike at all.
His eyes went wider still.
Diablo stood there as if nothing had happened to him.
The Demon King's sword thrashed violently in the air, furious, and flew back into his hand.
The Demon King caught it and said:
"I hope you're not about to call that cheating."
"I'll pick up my sword," the Elf King said, "and we'll finish this."
He reached toward where he'd left it.
Nothing there.
For the first time since the fight began, his smile disappeared.
He opened his mouth to speak — but the Demon King was already surging toward him, and severed his left arm clean off. It flew through the air, and the Demon King's face was sprayed with blood.
The Elf King staggered back, caught his own severed arm, and snarled in fury.
"Wasn't this supposed to be a fair fight?"
"It is," the Demon King said. "It's fair."
"Then why did your men steal my sword?"
"That's not my concern."
The Elf King's rage boiled over.
"Fine. You think you'll beat me just because you had my sword stolen? I'll show you the power a King inherits the moment he takes the throne."
The ground began to tremble, and a shiver ran through the Demon King's body. The Elf King hurled his severed left arm into the air — it transformed into a sword. He caught it and said:
"Get ready. I'm ending this duel with one strike."
There was no hesitation left in the Elf King's eyes.
Nothing remained but the resolve of a man carrying a legacy hundreds of years old on his shoulders.
Confusion and fear were plain on the Demon King's face.
The Demon King gripped his sword tight, wrapping it in his aura and the element of Darkness. The Elf King readied himself, charging his blade with energy until it overflowed. Their eyes met one last time — and then they surged at each other, and everything exploded.
The whole place detonated. Every remaining barrier shattered.
Dust swallowed the entire battlefield.
When it finally cleared…
Diablo was standing — barely.
A massive wound stretched from his left shoulder all the way down to his hip bone.
Silence fell over the forest, over the entire Dimension.
The Elf King had won.
The forest and the Dimension sat in that silence — until it was suddenly shattered by the screaming of demons.
The Elf King had been a heartbeat away from delivering the final blow, from ending the Demon King's life — but every demon surged toward the Elf people and turned on them.
The moment his sword touched the ground, a hundred demons rushed him. He had only one arm left, and barely any mana remaining. He funneled every trace of his enhancement magic into his chest, his thighs, his right arm.
He pulled a blade from thin air and stood against them. The first one reached him and was cut to pieces. The rest surged forward as one. He poured every last drop of mana into a single strike — pressed his hand to his hip as if drawing a sword from its sheath, tore the blade of air free, and cut every last one of them down.
As he turned to head for the Elf forest, he was stabbed from behind.
He turned — and found the Demon King standing there.
"So you really are a child," the Elf King said, "who doesn't know the meaning of honor."
"This is the only way I know how to fight."
"You have no dignity. No self-respect. Even whores and slaves carry more self-respect than you. You… you have nothing at all. It disgusts me that someone standing in the same position as me would stoop to something like this."
"What did you think I'd do?"
"I didn't think," the Elf King said. "I acted. You're filth, undeserving of a throne like the one you hold. You don't even deserve a place in an army. You should face your enemies with pride."
Fury flared across the Demon King's face.
"In war, no one knows the meaning of honor. Do you think I'm killing you like this for no reason? When I enjoy a fight, I like to end it the same way I started it. In war, people do whatever it takes to win."
The Elf King smiled.
"You don't understand war at all. In war, if you make a pact and break it, that doesn't make you the victor — it means you've made an enemy of everyone around you. You speak with a sharp tongue as if you understand what war truly is. In war, kingdoms fall, and their people are taken as slaves and concubines. You're a demon — born with power, and you'll die with power. We were born from nothing. Do you think our technology is ours alone? You're wrong. It belongs to our ancestors — who were once slaves themselves."
Fury consumed the Demon King. He tore the sword from the Elf King's chest, severed his right leg, then cut off his remaining arm. The Elf King collapsed to the ground — and the Demon King raised his blade and took his head.
The King's body fell to the earth.
No one moved.
Even the spirits fell silent.
Diablo looked down at the head in his hand, then carried it in one hand, turned toward the gate to the Dimension…
And walked away.
(End of Chapter 52)