’With this... I can crush that cursed sword and the fool who wields it.’
Alice raised her blade again, sweat dripping down her temple, her aura flickering weakly.
Every instinct scread at her to move, to evade. But she didn’t.
Instead, she smiled faintly.
Because even as Velra’s power reached its terrifying peak—
—so did hers.
The Hwando t Velra’s fist.
The flas swirling around her hand flared wildly the instant they touched the blade—and then exploded.
—BOOM!
A violent shockwave tore through the cave, shaking the earth and sending dust and shards of rock scattering in all directions.
As expected, the descendant of the warrior couldn’t withstand the sheer force of the magic. Her sword shattered into fragnts that glittered briefly in the air before vanishing into the storm of light.
"Urgh—!"
Alice staggered back, her face twisting in pain. Her arms trembled, her breath ragged. The once-proud warrior stood weaponless before her enemy, the heat of Velra’s flas reflected in her wide, disbelieving eyes.
Velra’s smile curved slowly, languidly—like a predator savoring the last mont before the kill.
Without her sword, Alice was nothing more than prey caught in the vampire’s grasp.
"Pathetic," Velra murmured, her voice soft, almost tender. "You truly believed you could stand against ?"
She stepped forward, the air rippling with each movent. Her crimson eyes burned with a subtle, dangerous heat.
’Just like that day,’ she thought, her gaze narrowing. ’One strike to the abdon—just enough to break her completely.’
Ah. The anticipation was intoxicating.
Velra’s lips parted slightly, her fangs glinting under the firelight.
How would he react this ti? The so-called Faceless Imposter—always watching from the shadows, always interfering.
Would he flinch when he saw this proud girl collapse, her spirit shattered?
Would he bla himself again?
Would guilt twist him into doing sothing foolish?
Velra’s smile deepened, almost affectionate.
He could co for her if he wished. He could rage, threaten, even fight her. She would endure it all. His tantrums, his fury—none of it mattered.
Because if it led him back to her, it would all be worth it.
Faceless Imposter...
If only he would make the right choice this ti.
If only he would abandon this useless girl and return to where he truly belonged—
—to her side.
—to the Drazroth Empire.
Velra raised her hand, fire coiling in her palm like a living serpent.
"Let’s end this farce," she whispered, stepping closer to the trembling Alice.
The flas reflected in Alice’s eyes, her breath shallow but defiant still.
Velra almost admired it. Almost.
"Disappear," she said—and thrust her burning hand forward.
"Hyaaaah!"
Alice’s scream tore through the storm, raw and defiant. Her sword was gone—flung sowhere across the field—but the fire in her eyes hadn’t dimd.
Velra, watching from above with an almost pitying smirk, didn’t see it. She didn’t notice the subtle shift in the air, the faint hum of energy trembling around Alice’s trembling fra.
Because Velra had overlooked one thing.
Even stripped of her weapon, Alice hadn’t lost her will.
’Burn everything... the aura within !’
The sword that had fallen ters away began to shake, faint ripples of golden light running along its blade. Then, like an invisible thread pulled taut, it surged back—straight into Alice’s open hand.
Velra’s eyes widened. "What—?!"
The blade burned brighter, its aura wrapping around Alice’s arm like living fla. The sa technique she had used once before against the Faceless Imposter—the one that had ended in her exhaustion and defeat.
But this ti, there was no hesitation.
Only resolve.
The earth trembled beneath her feet as power coursed through her veins, surging toward the blade until the tal itself seed to breathe with her heartbeat.
Velra’s lips parted, a strange mixture of awe and irritation flickering across her face. "So you’ve learned that much... impressive, for a child."
The vampire’s words echoed faintly in Alice’s mind—an old mory overlapping the present.
’Young demons do have spirit. Consider your age what saved you. Now get lost from our land.’
That was the last thing Velra had said to her ancestor before letting him live. A mont of condescension wrapped in rcy.
Alice’s grip tightened. The shape of her aura, the glow of the blade—it was the sa as that ancient warrior’s sword.
And this ti, she wouldn’t accept rcy.
"Do you think I’ll lose to you again?" she shouted, voice sharp enough to cut through the howling wind. "This ti, I’ll end it—and erase the defeats of the past!"
Velra’s smile vanished. "Then co and prove it."
Alice charged.
Her boots dug deep into the snow, propelling her forward faster than the eye could follow. Velra countered, her clawed hand glowing with crimson energy as she struck back.
Sacrifice the flesh to protect the bones.
Alice ignored the pain screaming through her body, the burning in her muscles as every drop of aura she had left condensed into her sword. Her lungs felt crushed, her heartbeat deafening—but her focus never wavered.
A fist aid for her abdon.
A sword aid for Velra’s heart.
They t in the middle.
—Boom!
The impact exploded with blinding light, sending snow and rock flying in every direction. The shockwave rippled through the encampnt, forcing soldiers to raise shields and cover their eyes.
When the light finally began to fade, the two figures stood frozen in the center of the crater—locked in place.
Velra’s claw was buried in Alice’s side.
Alice’s sword was pressed against Velra’s chest, the golden aura still burning faintly.
Neither spoke.
Only the sound of wind and the faint hiss of dissipating energy filled the silence.
Then—
Blood dripped onto the snow.
And the next mont, one of them began to fall.
Velra’s knees buckled first.
Her expression froze—half surprise, half disbelief—as she looked down at the faintly glowing blade embedded in her chest. Golden light seeped through the wound, eating away at the dark aura that had once seed endless.
"...You—" Her voice cracked, faintly trembling, not from pain—but astonishnt. "You actually..."
Alice staggered, her whole body trembling, blood pouring freely from her side. Her vision blurred, colors lting into a haze of white and red. Yet even then, her hand didn’t release the sword.
"I told you," she breathed, her voice raw, hoarse from screaming and battle. "It’s... different this ti."
Velra’s lips curled—not in rage, but in a faint, wistful smile. "Yes... it is."
Blood poured from her side—just beneath the solar plexus, the very core where one’s strength was born.
And yet, despite the searing pain, despite the flas that had grazed her flesh and the agony twisting through every nerve—
Alice stood.
Her breath ca in uneven gasps, white clouds forming and fading in the frigid air. Her sword still humd faintly in her trembling hand, golden light flickering like a dying ember.
"...I’ve won," she whispered.
The words carried no triumph—only quiet certainty.
Velra’s body wavered before her, the vampire’s proud figure already beginning to crumble into dust. For a mont, their gazes t—one filled with disbelief, the other steady, resolute.
Even though the fla-wrapped fist had grazed her ribs, burning through armor and flesh alike—
Even though the pain pulsed in waves that made her vision blur—
Alice did not kneel.
She stood tall upon the blood-stained snow, her silhouette frad by the pale morning light creeping into the cavern.
It was the victory of soone who had fought with everything she had.
Not through overwhelming power.
Not through inherited glory.
But through will—unyielding, relentless will.
She had clung to the faintest opening, turned her opponent’s arrogance into her blade, and pushed beyond the limits of what her body could endure.
Her knees trembled, her breath faltered, but her eyes never left the space where Velra had stood.
This was not the triumph of a hero.
It was the survival of a warrior who refused to be looked down upon again.
---
’The battle seems to be decided. Shall we begin?’
Among the soldiers—whose morale soared sky-high at the sight of their lady’s victory—Freedman began to move. His steps were slow, deliberate, almost reverent, as if the chaos before him were rely a prelude to sothing greater.
–Crack.
The faint sound sliced through the jubilant cheers like a whisper of breaking bone.
"Look! The princess is going to win!" one soldier shouted, voice trembling with excitent. "She actually did it!"
"Huh? Wait... did you hear that?" another asked suddenly, his tone uncertain.
"What sound?"
"I don’t know. It was like... sothing sharp scraping against stone. Crackling, maybe...?"
The n exchanged uneasy glances, their earlier joy faltering as the strange noise echoed again—closer this ti, crawling along their spines like cold fingers.
–Crack. Crackle.
The timing was uncanny.
At the very mont the princess’s shining blade and the vampire’s blazing fist collided—when light and fire had devoured the battlefield—the sound returned, deeper, hungrier.
And within the dim rear ranks of the formation, where shadows pooled thick and dark, sothing stirred.
The suspicious figure shifted, its movents jerky, unnatural. Its jaw flexed once, twice—
—and then it began grinding its teeth together.
The soldiers froze, dread prickling at their napes as the sound turned from a faint crackle to a low, rhythmic gnashing—like bones snapping beneath unseen pressure.
Freedman’s lips curved faintly, eyes gleaming with sothing far too calm for the mont.
While the others watched the clash between light and fla, he whispered under his breath, almost like a prayer.
"The battle may be hers," he murmured, voice low and dangerous, "but the stage... belongs to us."
And with that, the grinding stopped.
Only silence remained—tense, suffocating, waiting to break.
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