The Black Knight hesitated for a moment.
When he lowered his head, he seemed to finally notice Trena standing behind him. A broken sword was already embedded in his shoulder.
“Fast…” a hoarse voice praised.
Boka had no idea what had just happened. Yet Trena had wounded the Black Knight.
“You blocked it,” she said, tilting her head slightly. “That thing of yours must be special. Mine snapped clean off.”
Trena tossed the broken blade into the sea and picked up the longsword Albert had left behind. Could Boka’s eyes even track her movements? And could the Black Knight still hold his own against her?
Silent, the knight slowly pulled the broken shard from his wound. Rain mixed with his blood, streaming onto the ground. He showed no sign of pain.
“I won’t let you leave,” Trena suddenly cackled. “My brothers need ample time to escape.”
The Black Knight turned, discarding the blood-slicked blade at his side.
Fearless. Unflinching. His icy gaze seemed to dismiss the world itself—except when it landed on Boka. There, a flicker of emotion surfaced.
“I don’t… want to kill you…” His voice was fragmented.
Trena froze.
“What?” she snapped. “Are you insane?! Do you really think you can still beat me?!”
“I… have no choice…” he murmured.
Trena’s facial muscles twitched unnaturally. That suppressed power stirred restlessly within her.
“I’ll rip out your guts,” she hissed.
*Clang!*
Their blades clashed again, sparking violently in a dizzying flurry. The monstrous duel filled Boka’s ears with a deafening roar. Each collision seemed to shake the air itself.
“Albion’s legendary hero—give me more to look forward to!”
The Black Knight shifted from offense to defense, gradually overwhelmed. Trena’s speed was terrifying, every strike crushing. Her slender frame hid boundless strength.
Trena suddenly deflected his black sword and slashed toward his neck.
*Clang!* He staggered but barely parried. The few inches of space weren’t enough—the impact sent him flying, his black sword scraping his arm as he crashed to the ground.
Clad in dark armor, he landed like a lump of iron dropped from a height.
Trena didn’t press the advantage. Instead, she stared at the steel sword in her hand, its edge now stained with blood. Her lips trembled. After a hesitant pause, her tongue darted out to gently lick the crimson liquid. Her muscles spasmed again. A pale yellow fluid gushed from between her legs.
“So delicious…” she moaned. “Your blood… rich, intoxicating.”
The Black Knight hadn’t uttered a sound. He simply rose from the ground. His left arm—gripping the sword—hung limp, clearly broken from the brutal impact.
“You’re weak.”
“Huh? What?” Trena’s eyes widened.
“You’re cowardly. Pathetic.”
“Cowardly?!” she roared. “Look at your own wretched state!”
The knight remained silent, shifting the sword to his right hand. His left arm was useless.
“I’ll tear your head off!” Trena’s voice turned shrill. “Then I’ll see that arrogant face hidden beneath your helm!”
Boka couldn’t see the knight’s expression. Yet something felt familiar. Had they met before?
Rain suddenly stung Boka’s eyes, blurring his vision. He rubbed them hard, forcing them open again.
In that split second, his mind went numb.
*That person… how is she here?*
An icy expression. Hair like a waterfall. Eyes that scorned the world.
Aria slowly removed her helmet and placed it gently on the ground. The stark contrast between her pale skin, long hair, and the black armor was jarring.
*Albion’s hero… the legendary Black Knight… is her?*
Trena stood utterly still.
“Aria Agnes…”
That earlier raspy voice—it must have been her, straining to hide her identity.
“I didn’t kill Clarus,” Trena said darkly, “but you showed up anyway.”
“Grandfather is dead.”
“Lies are truly hateful.”
“Perhaps,” Aria replied. “He died full of remorse. He hoped his death would end this.”
“What use was Clarus’s rotting life?! From the moment he plotted that conspiracy, everything—*everything*—turned rotten!”
“He wanted you to live,” Aria said, meeting her gaze. “That’s why I removed my mask. To tell you this.”
The confession document and Percy had been taken by Albert. Aria, who’d tried to stop them earlier, must have decided further fighting was pointless. Now, she sought only to persuade.
Trena bit her lip hard enough to draw blood, fighting to control herself.
“Are all your minds broken?” she spat. “*You* caused the plague seven years ago! And now you speak like some righteous savior?”
“I’m sorry,” Aria said. “Forgive me. I’m a selfish person.”
“Trena!” Boka suddenly shouted. “I know your pain! I know loneliness! But if you keep this up, you’ll lose even more!”
Trena turned. Her eyes held pure killing intent.
“Don’t act like you understand everything, Boka. It makes me sick.”
Blood trickled from Trena’s nostrils. She wiped it away, realizing her time was short. When the drug’s effect faded, she’d be crippled.
She steadied her breathing, gathering strength from her pounding heart.
The next move would decide everything. Aria was wounded, her left arm useless. The outcome seemed clear.
Trena’s gaze locked onto Aria’s pale neck.
Then Boka stepped forward, placing himself between Aria and Trena.
“The confession and Percy are gone with Albert. The royal family and the Institution will fall. Your goal is achieved. More killing means nothing. Stop this, Trena.”
“You’re really getting on my nerves.”
Surprise flickered across Aria’s face. She hadn’t expected this man to stand before her again.
“Some things are beyond my power,” Boka said, his voice trembling slightly. “But because of that… I want to do *something*. Trena, I sincerely hope you’ll listen.”
“DIDN’T YOU HEAR ME, BOKA?!” she screamed. “YOU’RE INFURIATING!!!”
Boka didn’t flinch. He shouted back, his voice raw.
“ENOUGH! STOP ACTING LIKE A CHILD! You only think of revenge—but have you considered how we feel?! When this ancient kingdom collapses, who will lead Albion?! Chaos will follow! My family… Cynthia… they still live here!!!”
*Clang!*
The steel sword aimed at Boka’s head was blocked by Aria behind him.
Only then did Boka realize how close he’d come to death.
The two warriors clashed fiercely again. Seizing a gap, Aria disengaged, grabbed Boka, and hurled him into the sea.
Amid the churning harbor waves, Trena couldn’t spare him attention. Unlike the earlier injured pair, Boka could swim back ashore.
Freeing herself, Aria sprinted to the gate. She leaped onto its edge, soaring several feet upward. Mid-air, she jammed her sword halfway into the wall, swung her body up with one hand, and yanked free her black ancient blade. In two fluid motions, she stood atop the city wall.
Trena scaled the wall with equally unnatural agility, using a brutally direct method.
“Running away?”
“I’ve made my decision,” Aria said, her voice faint against the storm. “Some things… can only end this way.”
“This way?!” Trena shrieked. “What way?!”
“Death.”
“Oh? Finally accepting your fate? Ready to die?!” Trena’s laughter was unhinged.
“No,” Aria said. “Yours.”
Trena froze. *What is this woman saying?* This broken knight, her dominant arm ruined—was she delusional?
Then blood erupted.
A bloodcurdling scream tore through the air. Trena’s arm lay severed on the stone. The strike had been too fast to see.
*Her dominant hand was the right one all along.* Aria Agnes had hidden her true strength from the start.
Aria’s black sword dripped blood, diluted by the rain.
“Death… redeems nothing,” she murmured. “But it can bury truths…”
“MONSTER!!!”
Trena struggled upright, lunging at Aria. It changed nothing. Aria sidestepped effortlessly, her blade piercing Trena’s shoulder.
“Forgive me,” Aria said, her face emotionless. “I am selfish.”
“I’LL TEAR YOU APART WITH MY TEETH!!!”
Trena seized Aria’s sword, still throwing herself forward.
Aria wrenched her blade free and pressed its tip against Trena’s chest—the scar *she* had once carved there.
“God created us,” she said. “Yet we are so ugly.”
“NOOOO!!!” A final, desperate wail.
“Farewell.”
Boka had just dragged himself ashore when he saw it. Trena’s limp body plummeted from the high wall into the raging sea below.
