The battlefield faded into the background.
Not because the war had ended—
But because something far more dangerous had begun.
At the center of the chaos, where dust and blood mixed into the air, two figures stood unmoving.
Sir Vald.
Kael Draven.
Around them, soldiers hesitated.
Even the bravest instinctively stepped back.
Because everyone felt it—
This was no longer a battle between armies.
This was a clash between monsters.
Kael moved first.
No warning.
No signal.
Just a sudden burst of speed that tore through the ground beneath him.
His blade rose from below, twisting upward in a vicious arc meant to split flesh and armor alike.
Vald responded instantly.
Steel met steel.
CLANG!
The impact echoed across the battlefield like thunder.
Nearby soldiers staggered from the force alone.
Dust lifted into the air in a violent ripple.
Yet at the center—
Neither man moved.
Neither gave ground.
Kael's grin widened.
"Good."
His eyes gleamed with unrestrained excitement.
"This is what I wanted."
Kael slid back slightly, dragging his blade across the ground.
The metallic scrape was sharp, almost unsettling.
Blood dripped steadily from the wound Vald had given him earlier.
He stared at it.
Then laughed.
"My blood…"
His voice trembled—not with pain, but with thrill.
"I finally got someone interesting!"
He lifted his blade again, his stance lowering.
"Ruin Blade Style!"
The air around him distorted faintly, as if rejecting the unnatural movement of his body.
"Second Madness — Blood Reversal!"
In an instant, Kael's presence changed.
His speed increased.
His movements sharpened.
But more than that—
They became unpredictable.
His strike came again, but this time the angle shifted mid-motion, bending unnaturally as though reality itself had been twisted.
Even Vald had to adjust.
Their blades collided again.
CLANG!
This time, the ground beneath them cracked.
Small fractures spread outward like spiderwebs.
Vald stepped forward calmly.
His movements were smooth.
Refined.
Every motion deliberate.
Where Kael was chaos—
Vald was control.
"West Wind Sword Art."
His voice was quiet, yet it carried clearly through the battlefield.
His blade moved like flowing air.
"Third Form — Gale Interception."
Kael's attack was redirected effortlessly.
Not blocked.
Not resisted.
Redirected.
Vald's sword followed through immediately.
A precise counter.
A flash of silver—
Then blood.
A clean cut opened across Kael's shoulder.
The strike was perfect.
Efficient.
Deadly.
Kael staggered slightly—
Then laughed again.
Louder this time.
The next exchange happened faster.
Too fast.
To the soldiers watching—
They vanished.
Not truly invisible.
But their movements surpassed the ability to follow.
Steel rang again and again.
CLANG!
CLANG!
CLANG!
Each impact sent shockwaves across the battlefield.
Wind surged outward.
Dust and debris lifted violently.
Alex struggled to remain standing.
His spear dug into the ground for balance.
His eyes strained to follow the fight.
But all he saw were fragments.
A flash of silver.
A streak of red.
A sudden impact.
Nothing more.
"This…" he muttered under his breath.
"…is a different level."
Then—
For the first time—
Vald stepped back.
Just one step.
But that alone changed everything.
Kael noticed immediately.
His grin sharpened into something more dangerous.
"Oh?"
Vald's gaze narrowed slightly.
"…You are dangerous."
It wasn't praise.
It was recognition.
A short silence followed.
Then—
Vald raised his blade.
The air changed.
Subtly at first.
Then completely.
The wind that had been raging across the battlefield suddenly stilled.
Then—
It began to move again.
But not naturally.
It was being pulled.
Drawn inward.
Compressed around Vald.
Even the soldiers could feel it.
The pressure.
The stillness.
The weight of what was about to happen.
Kael's grin widened.
"Yes…"
"Show me."
Vald spoke clearly.
"West Wind Sword Art."
The air trembled.
"Fifth Form — Sky Severing Current."
This was no ordinary technique.
This was not meant to injure.
Not meant to push back.
This was a killing strike.
Absolute.
Final.
Vald moved.
For the first time since the battle began—
Kael's eyes widened.
He felt it.
The weight.
The inevitability.
If this attack landed—
He would die.
And yet—
He laughed.
"DO IT!"
CRASH!
A violent force exploded between them.
The compressed wind shattered instantly.
Vald's technique was destroyed mid-execution.
The ground trembled violently.
Dust erupted into the air.
Silence followed.
Heavy.
Absolute.
Vald's blade had stopped.
Not by choice—
But by force.
Someone had intervened.
A figure stood between them.
Tall.
Still.
Untouched by the chaos.
His presence alone weighed heavily on the battlefield.
It was different.
Not wild like Kael.
Not fluid like Vald.
But absolute.
A dark blade rested calmly in his hand.
He had blocked the attack.
Effortlessly.
"…If that had landed."
His voice was calm.
Cold.
Certain.
His gaze shifted toward Kael.
"You would have died."
Kael clicked his tongue.
"…You really ruin everything."
The man ignored him.
His authority was unquestionable.
"Lyra."
The mage appeared instantly behind them.
"…Yes."
"Kael."
Kael sighed, clearly annoyed—but he did not argue.
That alone spoke volumes.
Then the man spoke his name.
"Ragnar Viremont."
A pause.
"Third Blade of the Twelve Swords of the Varkhane Empire."
Silence consumed the battlefield.
Even those who didn't fully understand—
Felt the weight of that title.
One of the Empire's strongest had arrived.
Ragnar looked at Vald carefully.
Not with hostility.
But with calculation.
"…Impressive."
A brief pause.
"You forced my intervention."
Then he turned.
"Retreat."
No hesitation followed.
The command was absolute.
The enemy forces began withdrawing immediately.
Even Kael obeyed.
But before leaving—
He turned back.
His grin returned.
Sharp.
Excited.
"We're finishing this later."
The battlefield slowly quieted.
The sound of retreat replaced the clash of steel.
But no one relaxed.
Because now they understood.
This war—
Was no longer about territory.
Or strategy.
Or numbers.
It was about power.
And the monsters who wielded it.