Medith snapped up with a nimble kip-up, spine straight like a bamboo spear. Hard to imagine that fragile frame could shoulder a storm like that.

She smiled, wiped the blood at her lip, and surged at Haywood. Her body split into phantoms, ricocheting like swallows, while white slashes flew like frost.

Hum!

Hum!

The Blood Drinking Sword thrummed, a hive’s hum rolling through the hollow hall. Facing that storm of cuts, Haywood didn’t even flinch to dodge.

He crossed both hands before his face. His whole front turned to black scales, a mountain clad in dragon hide.

Clang-clang-clang— Metal hissed as the slashes struck those scales. They bit, but couldn’t flood his flesh like rain through soil.

Haywood’s fists fired like cannons. With one explosive motion, he shattered her slashes. But Medith had already coiled far away, ghosting behind him like a night breeze.

“Breaker March: City-Cleaving Slash.” She bent at the waist, raised her greatsword high, cloak flowing like a dark river—confidence sharp as a crescent.

Scrape—hum— As if answering her voice, a silver crack split Haywood’s chest from shoulder to waist. Black scale armor fissured.

The sword mark detonated and blasted him back several meters, a boulder kicked by thunder.

Before he could steady, Medith lunged again. She gripped the greatsword with both hands, body folding like a bow.

Her slim leg tapped, and she slingshotted in a strange arc, dragging the blade down like a falling star.

Her speed wasn’t even that fast, her form ugly as a broken kite. Yet Haywood felt danger surge like winter tide.

His mountain bulk flashed aside. He dodged by a hair, a leaf skimming past a blade.

Her slingshot cut missed and slammed the stone floor. Vmm-vmm-vmm—rumble— The ground shivered, then screamed on the brink of breaking.

Three seconds later, the tremor stopped—then the floor collapsed entirely, crumbling to powder. Dust rained like ash, shrouding the lower levels.

Shock hit Haywood like cold water. Her swordwork twisted like smoke; he couldn’t read her next step at all.

While he still reeled, Medith ripped her greatsword up. Using the rebound, she flung herself ten meters like a catapult, arrowing for him.

“Huh?!” For a blink, Haywood lost judgment. She rolled in like a lump of dough down a slope, attack or feint, he couldn’t tell.

He hesitated two seconds. She was already there, hauling that greatsword, a scarlet spark blooming wide in his eyes.

Zing—chh— Haywood whipped his head aside, scaling his face in an instant. But this slash carried armor-breaking force.

It punched through his black scales and carved a long bloody seam across his right cheek, a river of red on obsidian.

Medith overshot, balance gone, streaking straight for the wall. Just before impact, her off-kilter body twisted like a swallow.

Her brown boot planted on the wall. Light flashed in her eyes, and she launched like a loosed arrow at Haywood.

In almost an instant, Haywood blocked with all his strength. He still got skewered and hurled out the door Medith had entered, until he smashed into the far wall.

Thoom— The wall cratered under his bulk, a cliff face ready to collapse.

Medith didn’t relent. Her eyes burned a terrifying red, and she dove, blade drawn, like lightning splitting a storm.

“Urgh…” Haywood spat blood. Her combo’s power stacked like waves, never giving him a breath.

It felt rehearsed against his every move, a net closing like night.

That silhouette streaked in like a thunderbolt. Haywood clutched his chest, eyes cold as winter. The air around him stalled, like a lake before frost. Then—

“Regido.”

As Medith reached him, a white sphere ten meters wide bloomed, a moon of force swallowing her whole. Savage energy pressed down like heaven and earth.

It crashed onto her like the Five Sacred Peaks, a weight meant to grind bone to dust.

Medith clenched her silver teeth. Even the Blood Drinking Sword creaked under the crush, a crack crawling across its blade.

“Ah—ah—ah—” She lifted and swept, tearing open one corner of the Magic Breaker Circle by brute will.

At the same time, she dragged a crescent of bloodlight forward like a comet’s tail.

Thoom—rumble-rumble-rumble… The castle shuddered as if mortally wounded. Nearly ten floors blew open into a yawning pit.

Her bloodlight flew and split the castle clean in two. Even the tower top tilted by degrees, teetering like a drunk mast.

…

Inside the city, people felt the earth’s lament and Medith’s razor killing intent. They hid in their homes, shivering amid prayers and awe.

Gill stood calm atop the tower, features twisted. “Medith, we’re both demons—demons masked as justice. I know. You’re not here for your Sprite.

You just want to kill me, don’t you?

You’re not wrong. In this miserable world, we can only swing our blades. Only by erasing enemies can we keep what we cherish.

You understand that better than anyone. That’s why you were ‘god’. But you grasped humanity, fell from god to man, and that led you here.

You don’t get it. In this world, if you don’t kill, they’ll kill you…

Heh-heh-heh… heh—hahaha…

Ahahaha—hahaha!”

Gill’s face warped. He gripped the Bloodsword and stared up at the blood moon, laughing with a near-sick fervor.

His arrogant, pitiful laughter echoed through the Sanctuary of Freedom, adding fresh dread to the already eerie night.