[ Death Count: 365 ]
The light spreads beneath my feet.
I don't sit with it this time. I don't cross my legs and think. I don't go over timing windows or radius estimates or which finger to put mana into.
The battlefield comes back the same way it always does. Crimson sky. Rivers of flame. The broken stone structure standing in the distance like it's been waiting for me longer than I've been waiting for it.
I walk straight toward him.
Three hundred and sixty-four deaths of crouching behind silver-skinned bodies, of swallowing my presence down to an ember, of doing everything I could to not be seen until the exact moment I chose to be.
Not anymore.
He's already watching me by the time I'm halfway there. Of course he is. I never hid because hiding worked. I hid because it bought me seconds. I don't need seconds today. I need everything, all at once, and the only way to get it is to stop being careful about how I ask for it.
The clone said this was my final chance, so I've got to win. Not maybe win, not close win. Win. Winning is the only thing I can do now.
I stop a good distance away. Closer than I ever let myself get before.
"Last one," I say to myself.
Onyx doesn't respond. He never does, not really, not unless I say something meaningful that gets his attention.
"Override."
[ Skill: Override Activated ]
Black mana erupts out of me in a violent wave as the dome begins to form around me like a curtain. The ground splits under the pressure, and I feel my body stretch upward.
My ears begin to stretch, becoming elf-like as my hair bleeds from black to white. My eyes narrow into something that isn't human anymore.
My clothes begin to change. My cloak turns into a jacket as my bodysuit transforms into a black shirt and black pants. My boots make their way all the way to my knees.
You know, I've always wondered why my clothes changed whenever I use Override. But aside from actual fights, I never got to test out the true reason, or if I can perhaps change what I wear.
If, no when I get out of this trial, maybe I'll experiment on that.
The dome finally explodes as a huge wave of black mana crashes through the battlefield.
I look up and see Onyx, only holding onto the hilt of his sword. He hasn't unsheathed it yet.
I stick out my hand and tiny particles of light begin to gather — each one a different color, drifting together like fireflies caught in the same current.
Qi. It's been a while since I used it.
I run my mana through them, and the particles stretch and lock into each other like threads, weaving tighter until they take shape.
A katana. Simple, straight-edged, with a faint curve near the tip. The hilt is round instead of the usual oval wrap, ridged where my fingers settle in, and the whole blade glows a deep, shifting purple as the colors bleed together into one.
I was told these are called katanas. Good conduction for magic — the curve lets mana flow through clean.
But never mind that, I've got a fight to win. Through all the trial and error, I've had one plan in mind. Everything else has just been a way to get there.
I lower my stance.
This is my last chance, so I've got to make it count.
Hmm.
He's still just holding onto the hilt.
He doesn't give it off, but I can tell. There's no doubt in his mind that he can beat me.
"That will be your downfall," I whisper to myself.
From behind, six black blades of mana form. Three are spears, the rest swords.
They devour the light around them like a black hole.
I'll use everything I have to win, but first—
I pull the sword back and lunge.
───
Abel makes his way toward Onyx. The air trembles as black mana erupts from his body.
The swords stay near him.
He closes the distance between the two in an instant, sword in hand, ready to strike.
But Onyx doesn't even flinch.
Instead of unsheathing his sword, he slams his fist into Abel's face. The force should be enough to send Abel's head airborne. At least, that's what's supposed to happen — but—
Three black swords, each brimming with mana, collide with Onyx's fist. They push it back an inch.
Only an inch.
But in that quarter of a second it takes to move his fist back an inch, a gust of wind blows, and Abel manages to slip free of his path.
Nonetheless, a massive shockwave is generated, splitting the ground as the earth trembles with all its might.
Abel lands only a foot away from the split. Had it been a foot less, he would have fallen in. Not that he couldn't climb out — but it would've been troublesome.
After taking a second to reassess himself, Abel tries to strike again, but Onyx pulls his sword free with the scabbard still on and blocks the strike.
Abel lunges back.
"Tempest Art."
The wind begins to tremble the moment those words are said.
"Wild Wind Step."
Large spirals of wind begin to cover Abel, his black mana changing their nature and making them even more violent.
He takes a step, and disappears.
A blue-black blur appears behind Onyx and attempts to strike him but—
Onyx simply dodges. He twists himself just enough for Abel's sword to miss.
"Tch."
Abel disappears again and attempts to get Onyx from a different blind spot but, just like before, he narrowly misses.
This exchange goes on a couple more times.
Onyx dodges another one of Abel's failed attempts, but when he looks, there is no one there.
Out of nowhere, two spears rush in — but Onyx lowers his center of gravity, and a moment later a spear passes through where his neck was.
Onyx grabs the spear and uses it to destroy the other.
He snaps the spear in half, and it dissipates like mist. But the mist seems to grow and get thicker as time passes on.
Onyx's vision should be compromised, but—
The mist suddenly shifts to Onyx's right, and without a moment of hesitation, he swings his sword at the area, but Abel isn't there.
"Don't let your eyes deceive you," a voice says from behind.
As if he had already foreseen this, Onyx channels his mana into his blade. He swings, and the golden light from his sword illuminates everything around them.
This strike should kill Abel, but—
Clang.
Onyx's sword connects with Abel's katana. But the moment they collide, Abel lets go. Not of the hilt, not of the hold, but rather, the mana binding the Qi to take shape.
The sword cracks like a mirror. The cracks break down into what they were before.
Qi particles.
Onyx's sword strikes through them, and a small, violent burst of color scatters in every direction, swallowed instantly by the golden mana of his sword.
That's not to say nothing happened.
The impact of Onyx's sword with the Qi particles in the air sends Abel flying backward, end over end.
He grabs one of his swords and strikes it into the ground. The ground splits as Abel attempts to stop himself from going any further.
After a few seconds, he comes to a halt.
His right arm has been completely severed from his body. His head is bleeding, his other arm is twisted in a way it shouldn't be, but—
───
"I'm alive," I say, blood dripping from the place where my right arm used to be.
This is the first time I've taken his strike and survived.
I still took damage, sure. But compared to before, this is a much better outcome.
The Qi trick is what bought me the opening. I'd bet everything I have left that Onyx has never once heard of Qi — not in however long he's existed, not from whatever god he serves. I didn't know it myself until I became human again, and if a god never knew it, I doubt a god's lackey would either. It was a gamble I genuinely thought might fail.
But the opening was never the real problem. The real problem is why I needed an opening to begin with — why every spell I've thrown at him for three hundred and sixty-five deaths has done nothing. That part I only just figured out.
The half-second before our blades met, I laced mana threads around my katana and let them latch onto his sword the instant we clashed — then activated Dead Time to buy myself a few extra seconds to actually look at what I was touching.
His blade is Hallowiron.
A type of steel that nullifies magic outright — not by resisting it, but because mana simply can't conduct through it. Try to push magic into Hallowiron and the two just separate, the way oil refuses to mix with water no matter how hard you stir.
That's how it works when it's forged the normal way — a closed forge, no mana involved in the shaping.
But there's another method. If a smith channels mana directly into the molten ore while it's being worked, the metal's void-touched structure doesn't seal shut the way it normally does. It stays open, and the mana gets bound into it permanently as it cools.
The catch is the odds. Maybe one attempt in ten actually works. The rest of the time, the metal snaps back to its dormant state mid-process, and the mana that was being poured into it has nowhere left to go. It discharges all at once — straight into whoever was holding the hammer.
That's why blacksmiths capable of forging mana-conductive Hallowsteel are so rare. You need exceptional control and mana to spare, and even then, you need to survive being wrong nine times out of ten.
His sword is open-forge. It has to be — there's no other way it could glow, channel, or fire a beam the way it does. But the armor is a different story. Closed-forge, every inch of it, mana-null from head to toe. That's why nothing I've thrown at him all fight has so much as made him flinch. The moment a spell gets close, the armor kills it before it ever reaches him.
With that in mind, I quickly decided to test out a trick using Qi. But that meant I had to force him into using his mana first — his sword's mana, not the armor's nothing. Hence the Tempest Art right before the clash, baiting him into channeling so there'd actually be something for my trick to interact with.
The moment our blades collided, I let go of the mana binding the Qi together.
Qi can't be sustained without something binding it. The instant I let go, it released itself back into its original form — particles of natural energy returning to the air. But because the release was sudden, a violent wave of Qi burst outward all at once instead of dispersing quietly.
The moment Onyx's mana-clad sword struck them, the Qi didn't resist the blade the way solid metal would. It scattered, and the force of the strike scattered with it, instead of carrying straight through to me.
[ Skill: Regeneration Activated ]
A faint warmth spreads from my shoulder as magical energy begins to gather at my severed arm.
Within mere moments, my hand is as good as new.
I flex my fingers once, just to be sure they're real, then look up at Onyx, who still hasn't moved from where he swung.
Why isn't he moving?
In fact, if not for the helmet, I'd say he looks irritated.
Maybe I should... huh? Is that a...
I smirk.
Why?
Ordinary mana-enhanced vision wouldn't have caught it — it's too small, too well hidden behind that golden glow. But Override pushes my sight past anything I've had before, and that's the only reason I see it at all.
It's small, very, very small, but it's still there.
A crack. There's a crack in his helmet.