Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh.

Golden energy flashed and fell like rain, each drop a shard of light knifing through the air.

It poured from a golden magic circle in the sky, so vast it beggared belief, like a sun carved with sigils.

Beast-sized golden constructs, all forged of pure energy, dove like meteors and slammed the ground, scouring the land clean.

Two figures clashed and blurred, their blows ringing like iron in storm-wind. Each time the golden silhouette struck the pale-blue one, the blue dimmed a shade.

They fought while retreating, like waves pulled back by a ruthless tide.

The battlefield tore through a vast Abyss passage, racing forward, stretching wider, chewing stone and shadow alike.

Boom.

Another blast of raw energy erupted, turning the jagged passage into a cratered ruin, a wound spreading through rock like rot.

“Not bad, not bad. You’re fun, Hero. You’re good at running.” Akenachel laughed wildly, then brought two greatswords down at Eli like falling thunderheads.

Her perfect armor gleamed, her smile loose and unafraid—she looked carved from serenity, a saint wearing war.

Eli felt cornered and feral. Forced out of Judge Mode, he clutched his left hand, red with blood, and kept falling back like a fox slipping through brush.

“Why run? Weren’t you hot stuff?” Akenachel mocked, her voice a silver knife.

“Damn. This brat’s cheating,” Eli snarled. He smashed aside the surge aimed at his face, then used the recoil to rocket backward like a leaf on a gale.

“Tch. A rat in a gutter. You’re a disgrace, Hero.” Akenachel’s smile turned cold.

“If you weren’t shameless—if you hadn’t shattered my arm—I’d string you up and beat you,” Eli shot back, eyes burning.

Pain seized him when he tugged the wound; his face went rigid, a spasm that slammed through him like ice.

He breathed through it, counted heartbeats, then let the tension drain like water from a broken cup.

He lifted Thias and caught Akenachel’s frontal cut, blue light scraping gold, sparks fanning like fireflies.

Eli staggered away, ragged as windblown cloth.

Akenachel hovered, then locked her twin blades together, the seam neat as a prayer clasped.

Her wings unfurled wide, and the sky flooded with beams from the golden circle, holiness draping the world like dawn.

Only the killing intent underneath—sharp as frost—made the air feel like a grave.

“Hero. Had enough running? My big move’s charged. Still going to flee?” Akenachel’s laugh curled like smoke.

“...” Eli let silence sharpen him. Then his gaze turned hawk-keen, his hand setting on the hilt.

“Slash.”

He barked the word, and blue sword-qi tore for Akenachel’s face like a crescent moon cutting clouds.

She tilted aside, letting it pass with a flick, disdain in her eyes like dust on silk.

“Ah. Just a phase shift. Eli, did you think I slept in Angela’s body without thinking or learning? Silly child. You’re behind.”

“Figures,” Eli clicked his tongue, then shrugged, helplessness worn like a crooked grin.

He spread his hands, a picture of mock surrender.

“Oh? Brave Mr. Hero… is this surrender?” Akenachel blinked, playful and cruel.

“Can’t be helped.” Eli shrugged again. “When the weight of the world wins, we see if you can actually kill me. If not, you’ll regret it.”

“Is that so? So you’re ready to die.” She raised the greatsword, a guillotine of gold about to fall.

“Come on then,” Eli said, careless as a boy tossing stones in a stream.

“Apocalypse.” Akenachel murmured, eyes closing like doors on a chapel.

Eli squinted and smiled, scorn curling like a cat’s tail. The scene was familiar—a mold stamped from the old days of Demon King and Hero.

Chase in the open, gather power in the dark—same game, same storm.

“In the shadows, you lot really did rub off on me,” Eli said with a wicked grin.

He tasted a memory from his other half, a scene lit like lightning.

“Demon King, you look decent. How about this—you surrender, and I’ll find you a good household to marry into?”

“You’re noisy now. Soon, you’ll cry. Mind your filthy mouth. This king will show you the might of the Demon King.”

“Heh.” He lifted the Holy Sword. Its light blazed, golden power spearing the heavens like a pillar. “Demon King, maybe I should shut you up first!”

“I am the Demon King, Supreme Demon Ruler of the Demon Race. All beings willing to bow to me—lend me your strength!”

“What’s wrong, Hero? Where’s that swagger? Lost it?” Her voice rolled like thunder. “You want to kill me? I want to kill you too. Leave your life here!”

“Go!”

“Blooming Trees Hide the Sky!”

“Arbiter’s Verdict!”

Eli shrugged. “To me, there’s no draw. I don’t lose.”

“Judgment!”

...

“What?!” Kate stared at the few men before him, pain pulsing like a drumbeat.

“Why did you suddenly stop fighting?” Kate raked his hair, frustration flaring like sparks.

“How would I know? You brought the intel. You fix this,” Aivis snapped, anger cold as steel.

“Didn’t you swear this would work?”

“I don’t care. Figure it out.” Aivis sneered. “You’ve shamed me at this conclave. If I can’t rise, none of your schemes will land. Now tell me what you heard.”

“I… I’ll go to the Beastkin again.” Kate ground his teeth. The bastard was right.

With this coward, winning was a joke. He had to pave every inch of the road.

Otherwise, everything would collapse like wet sand.

“Fine. Wait. I’ll arrange your future,” Kate said, jaw tight as iron.

Bastard. Trash is still trash—useful as mud. Useless! Useless! Useless!

He looked at Aivis’s face, anger burning until he wanted to rip it like paper.

“Why are you still here? Get out!” Aivis roared, voice like a whip.

“... Fine.” Kate trembled, rage shivering through him like winter chill.

A fool dared curse him to his face?

He’d been too kind lately. That was a mistake.

“Even if you become leader, I’ll make you take that seat in the worst shape. Bastard.”

Kate left the room, then kicked a sapling clean in half. Passing elves turned their heads like deer hearing a twig snap.

“Damn it.” He stormed away, fury fuming like smoke.

Those brainless Beastkin too—mongrels, wastes, idiots.

...

“Honored Beastkin, why did you halt your attack?” Kate’s leg had been broken again; he half-kneeled in the Beastkin leader’s chamber, pain dull as old iron.

He looked up, baffled, eyes like stormy lakes.

“Human, we thought it over. Your plan is fine, but we won’t be hasty,” the Beastkin leader said, voice carrying a secret like a buried drum.

“But… the Elf Race is unguarded. If you strike now, it’s a harvest waiting—hand-picked fruit.”

“Heh. We won’t do what humans do—low tricks in the dark. We’ll beat the Elf Race head-on,” the leader said, cold smile sharp as a fang.

“I… damn it…” Kate seethed, words like sparks falling into oil.

“Go. I’ll summon you later.”

“... Bastards! You’re all fools! You’re going to kill me with this!” Kate’s shout broke like glass.

A while later, a tiny girl padded in. She peered up. “Huh? Tiger-uncle, didn’t the big lion call you?”

“Ahaha, little ancestor, I’ll go in a moment,” the Beastkin leader—Tiger-uncle—said, grin warm as sun on fur.

“Oh… Actually, Tiger-uncle, that guy had a point. Why not attack now? Are you… are you really that dumb?”

She asked with wide eyes, innocent as a sparrow.

“I… No.” Tiger-uncle waved his hands, flustered.

“Right now, I don’t know why, but almost every major power on the continent knows we plan to strike the Elf Race. That’s not normal. Someone’s pulling strings.”

“Oh! So you suspect him…?”

“I’m not certain. But that human’s mind is not simple. We can’t play to his tune.” Tiger-uncle frowned, brows like storm-bent grass. “I have a premonition. A cataclysm is coming.”

...

“This… this is…” Akenachel stared, stunned, at the chains that bound her limbs, neck, and even the colossal Celestial God array she had summoned in the sky—five flowers tied into one knot.

“What is this thing?”

Eli felt tired, the ache settling like ash. He cleaned his left-hand wound to the last smear, then sealed it, skin knitting like closing petals.

“Mm. Something sturdy enough to bind you, of course.” Eli shrugged, a light smile playing like a cat’s whisker.

“No… Impossible!” Akenachel’s shock rang like a bell.

“How can something like this exist?”

“Why not? You’re sheltered, that’s all.” Eli shrugged again, smile lazy as morning.

“Akenachel-chan, looks like round two is mine.” Eli preened, joy bright as lacquer.

“I… I don’t believe it. You— you clearly—”

“Clearly what? Who walks around swinging a blood-soaked arm? You’re too young.” Eli shrugged, eyes amused and cold. “Remember that next time.”