"Speaking of which… butchering pigs usually involves a cleaver, right?"

Sedrion yanked the object from the magic circle in one fluid motion. With a casual flick of her wrist, the massive blade glinted under the midday sun.

It was an absurdly heavy greatsword—silver metal blade, pure white grip, dark gold where hilt met steel. The edge wasn’t particularly sharp. Its tip was flat, as if snapped clean off. Useless for slashing or thrusting. Less a sword, more a blunt instrument shaped like one.

"Ready to get butchered, piglet?"

Sedrion crooked a finger at Butcher, taunting. But this time, he didn’t charge. He was bloodthirsty, insane—but not stupid. From their earlier clash, this woman was clearly a Battle Spirit like him. At their level, a weapon’s "shape" meant nothing.

"...Blood Shackles!"

Butcher growled the words. Two crimson magic circles flared around his arms like sleeves, crawling from fingertips to shoulders before vanishing. Where they faded, a pair of metal gauntlets now clamped onto his forearms—spiral patterns carved deep, oozing bloody light as if real gore might drip any second.

For a moment, they stood frozen, sizing up each other’s weapons.

One side: a blunt greatsword.

The other: blood-engraved gauntlets.

"Hey, piglet."

"...!"

"Your gear’s uglier than your face."

"Eat shit and die, bitch!"

"Hah? My *Endolion’s Whatever-It’s-Called* is way more useful than it looks!"

A magic circle erupted beneath Sedrion’s feet. In half a second, mana propulsion catapulted her forward! The greatsword screamed through the air, leaving only silver afterimages.

"Child’s play!"

Butcher roared. The gauntlets blazed crimson as they clashed head-on with the greatsword. The explosion of mana flattened the street. Shops on both sides crumbled to rubble. Spectators too slow to flee were swallowed by the blast. Unfazed by collateral damage, the two warriors separated—then collided again at even deadlier angles.

*BOOM! CRASH! KABOOOOOM!!!*

Each impact shook the earth. Neither yielded. Butcher’s strikes were brutal yet precise. Sedrion fought like raw instinct—no pattern, no technique, just pure, untamed violence hammering down.

"Thought you were hot shit… turns out you’re just tough to knock out?!"

Butcher bellowed. Tornado-like mana spiraled around his arms before slamming into Sedrion’s raised greatsword. With a shriek of grinding metal, she flew skyward. Butcher laughed, ready to pounce—

"—Floating Domain!"

"What?!"

Butcher’s leap veered wildly off-course. A faintly glowing magic circle had appeared beneath him. Gravity within its radius neared zero. The sudden shift left him flailing, helpless.

"Gravity magic? You’re Mystic Warrior *and* mage?!"

"Who cares about labels? Magic, martial arts—just tools to kick ass!"

"Tch!"

Butcher stabilized himself, mana blasting from his boots as he surged upward. Sedrion stood calmly on a floating magic disc mid-air, as if on solid ground.

She was above.

He was below.

"Ever heard? High ground wins fights. Didn’t your mama teach you that?"

Sedrion smirked, raising her hand. Brilliant mana radiated from her, engulfing a hundred-meter radius—

"Celestial Radiance!"

*KRA-KOOOOOM!!!!*

Mana-light rained down—not as beams, but as countless elemental arrows. Each arrow was weak alone, the kind a novice mage could cast. But multiplied by ten thousand? Lethal.

*(So many arrows at once? And the attributes—)*

Ice arrows. Fire arrows. Water. Wind. Stone. Light. Shadow. The downpour held *every* element. From afar, it looked like a pillar of light crashing from the heavens—dazzling, majestic, and utterly deadly.

But Butcher was a Battle Spirit. A veteran.

To him, this was just flashy showmanship. Useless.

The Mystic Armor encasing his arms swelled violently. Blood-red patterns peeled off the gauntlets, merging with the mana mass to form two ten-meter-long spectral hands hovering at his sides. Semi-transparent, crimson, veined with gore-like patterns—they reeked of slaughter, like ravenous beasts baring fangs.

"OUT OF MY WAY!!!"

Butcher swept his fists sideways. The crimson hands mirrored him, carving bloody arcs through the air. Every arrow disintegrated on contact. The radiant curtain shattered, replaced by a haze of bloodlight—and Sedrion stood exposed behind it.

Butcher laughed. He’d expected her to flee during the chaos. Instead, she’d stayed. *Stupid bitch.*

Mana surged. He twisted mid-air, the crimson hands crossing to slash ten overlapping claw marks toward Sedrion. Each mark was like a swordsman’s ki slash—but orders of magnitude deadlier. They wove a net, sealing every escape route.

Sedrion showed no fear.

Only glee.

"*Will et longulus Der Zerstörer…*"

Her slender fingers trailed the greatsword’s edge. Where they passed, crimson light spread like liquid fire.

"*…Psuju oštricu! Forge’s Edge!!!*"

The greatsword erupted in white-hot flames. Molten fire met crimson claws mid-air—and canceled each other out. Scorching heat washed over Butcher. Even at a distance, his skin seared, moisture evaporating instantly. His Mystic Armor flickered, as if melting under the inferno.

Sedrion stood wreathed in fire, her silhouette warping in the heat haze. Molten rock and liquid fire coated the blade, dripping to the ground with each drop. Where they landed, screams tore through the air, followed by the roar of spreading flames.

"Dragon chants sound like ass, but damn—they *work*, huh?"

Sedrion ignored the screams below. She spun the greatsword by its pommel like a toy, tracing terrifying arcs of fire. Then—she stopped dead. The blade snapped forward, pointing straight at Butcher.

"—!!!"

This time, no illusion.

The instant the sword aimed at him, Butcher’s Mystic Armor *shattered*.

From the hellish heat radiating off the blade.

Most of that heat focused solely on him.

Even from this distance.

The fire engulfing the greatsword… it matched an adult red dragon’s full-force breath. Maybe *surpassed* it.

*(This fucking bitch…!!!)*

As Butcher braced to fight to the death—

"Huh? ...Wait, *what*?"

Sedrion’s brow furrowed. She tilted her head, scowling.

"*Ugh*. Get a grip, you overgrown pig… tch…"

She muttered under her breath, like arguing with herself.

"*Fine*, whatever! So annoying!"

With an impatient slash, the pure fire vanished from her blade. The flames died. The heat dissipated. Only the burning ruins proved what had happened.

"Lucky break, pig. I… eh, whatever. Honestly? I hate elemental magic. So outdated. Boring. Real magic should—"

The greatsword *shifted*. Some hidden mechanism triggered. The wide blade split cleanly down the middle. Only two metal crossbars connected the halves, leaving a wide gap between them. The hilt hovered independently, bound to the blade by invisible mana—like the sword floated mid-swing.

"—just be *awesome*! Turns out this thing’s got tricks!"

The split blades pulsed with mana—less intense than the lava, but still staggering. Last time: fire. This time: wind. Air currents swirled violently toward the blade’s gap.

At its center, a small magic circle glowed cyan. The wind gathered around it—but something felt *off*. Butcher realized a second too late.

"...Enchanting? Forcing a temporary magic circle *into* the weapon? That’s possible?!"

True enchanting required meticulous rituals. Simply slapping attributes onto gear didn’t count. Only permanent, fundamental alterations earned the name.

This "temporary" method? Unheard of.

"*Ugh*, stop overthinking it! Who cares about the how? If it hits hard and looks cool, that’s all that matters—!"

Sedrion plummeted like a meteor. Wind-boosted, she closed the distance in a blink. Butcher crossed his arms—the crimson hands mirrored him! A shockwave of red and transparent force exploded mid-air. Sedrion flew back fifteen meters. Butcher skidded thirty. He spat blood, cursing—just as a violet lightning bolt seared his chest. Only his gauntlets blocking it saved his flesh from charring.

Crackling lightning closed in. Sedrion had already reset her stance, the sword now humming with violet energy—the magic circle in the blade’s gap replaced by crackling electricity.

Lightning’s strength? Speed. Brutal bursts.

Butcher slammed his palms together. The crimson hands clapped shut around Sedrion—but searing flames and invisible wind blades blew them apart! Now *three* magic circles glowed on her sword: violet, cyan, orange-red. Lightning, wind, and fire erupted simultaneously.

The distant crowd gasped. *On-the-fly enchanting? Triple-element?*

"Tch…"

Butcher clicked his tongue. Raw mana bled through his skin, swirling at the fingertips of the crimson hands—forming ten tiny vortexes of destructive power.