The bells of Mesnil tolled at sundown with their thunder rolling across the city like the herald of war.
The Bastion Arena stood at the heart of the capital, carved from marble and blacksteel.
Tonight, it was not just an arena, but a throne of judgment, where history would carve another scar.
Grimhild emerged from her quarters in silence, and in a different outfit. With one glove on her hand, and long black socks that left her upper thighs exposed and held by purple straps, as well as black high-heel boots, and an eyepatch, she looked like a completely different person.
Elizabeth stepped out just behind her, trembling in her hands at her sides, though she tried to hide it.
"Grimhild…" She whispered in a small voice. "Do your best."
The Witch of Destruction spared her no words, only a single cold glance.
A reassurance forged of iron will.
Estrilda descended heavily from her chamber.
"If he underestimates you, he's already lost. I may not know you well enough, but I've seen the power you possess. And I am eternally grateful that you've bestowed me this body, to experience what it means to be one of you."
Grimhild gazed upon Estrilda with a silent look, nodding her head.
Jean leaned against the archway, smirking, though the tension in his jaw betrayed his unease.
"You're about to fight the King of Mesnil himself. Be careful, Grimhild, make too big a show and you'll have half the empire kneeling and the other half baying for your blood."
Grimhild passed by him, staff in hand.
"Then let them kneel. Or let them burn. It matters little."
Kyto and Obsidia said nothing. They only fell into step beside her, the silence between them heavier than any vow.
"I'm not worried at all, knowing you, Grimhild." Said Fhiron with his usual smirk.
"Hmph." Grimhild snickered at him.
"Do your best, Master Grimhild!" Said Zarutha.
Grimhild walked ahead of them as the group was escorted through the city streets that was lit with firebraziers and the cheers of thousands.
Word of the duel had spread like wildfire. Citizens crowded balconies, waving banners of gold and crimson. All of them shouted Lancelot's name.
At the grand gates of the Bastion, Arminel awaited them once more with her impassive face.
She raised a hand, and the gates—towering slabs of iron—opened.
The roar of the crowd within was deafening.
The Arena was a sea of faces, and a coliseum of voices united in anticipation.
Floating platforms of the Academy's archmagi drifted above with their spells maintaining the barrier that would contain the duel.
At the center stood Lancelot; a beautiful man with long black hair, deep blue eyes, and bluish silver armor fit for a king.
He held his weapon, Arondight, in his hand, glaring at the witch in excitement.
"So, we finally meet face to face, Witch of Destruction."
"This isn't the first time." Proclaimed Grimhild, walking in the middle of the arena.
"Is that so?" Asked the King.
"Before we begin, tell me Lancelot, what is the meaning of all of this?" Grimhild stopped in her tracks, slightly frowning at the hero. "You're the King of a powerful Empire; one that practically worships magic, and yet you freely allow Dracula and Vrunemir to roam free and tear this world apart."
Lancelot widened his eyes at her question before lowering his head into a smirk.
"Why does it matter to you? We're only here to fight to the death. Nothing more."
"It matters plenty." Said Grimhild flatly. "Dracula, Vrunemir, and even Merlin seek the demise of the entire world. They want this world to experience utter chaos."
Lancelot gazed upon the witch, frowning at her claim.
"My reasons matter naught in a battle, Witch of Calamity."
Grimhild widened her eyes.
"So you know of me?"
"Merlin told me long ago." He proclaimed. "I know who you are."
"But you don't remember the past? During our fight?"
Lancelot scrunched his face.
"I suppose not."
"Your people trust in you, Lancelot, and yet you treat them horribly. This isn't the man I fought all those years ago."
Lancelot lowered his head, closing his eyes.
[FLASHBACK]
A day after the Age of Legends, in the Ashen Burial Grounds, Lancelot stood there, closing his eyes in shame.
"I'm weak… I can't do anything right. My Mother… my Father! They died at the hands of Dracula!"
The Five Legendary Heroes finally defeated the corrupt Elohim and drove off the Witches of Calamity.
But now, a new chapter was beginning.
One that dealt with the loss and suffering of Sir Lancelot himself.
His hand trembled whilst carrying Arondight, gazing into the night sky.
"I was the one who fell in battle. It was only King Arthur who had the strength to defeat the Witches of Calamity, and I'm nowhere near close to his might."
He scowled at his weakness.
"If I'm to kill Dracula, I must change. I must transform my Kingdom, and raise powerful men to one day fight back against him. Even if it means becoming ruthless… merciless… I must do whatever it takes to defeat him."
He lowered his head.
"But as I am now, I will be unable to match up to their strength. Not until I find a worthy foe; one that can push me to my limits. One that can make me the man I need to be in order to obtain victory!"
[PRESENT]
"I was a coward." Said Lancelot, lifting his head to face Grimhild. "I was too afraid to approach Dracula. He was the man who killed my Mother and Father; the two people who I deemed the strongest before King Arthur came along."
Grimhild lifted her brows, taken aback by his statement.
"So I sent my men to fight against Dracula and his army." He smirked, as if it were comedic. "I cared not for Vrunemir. He was not worth my time. I merely dedicated my entire life to Count Dracula, and nothing more!"
Grimhild's expression darkened as her grip tightened on her staff.
"So you sacrificed your people. All for vengeance. All for your pride?"
Lancelot's smile only deepened as it was cruel and unrepentant.
"Yes. And I would do it again, over and over! Because only through suffering can the weak become strong. My empire will not weep in shadows like I once did. They will learn to endure fire, steel, and blood. That is my gift to them."
The crowd couldn't hear their conversation, they only cheered like mindless animals.
Grimhild tilted her head with her eyes narrowing.
"You've become nothing more than Dracula himself."
At that, Lancelot's smirk faltered.
His hand clenched tighter around Arondight.
"Careful, Witch. I am nothing like him!"
"You kill for vengeance. You let your people suffer. You worship strength above all else."
Grimhild's voice was flat as each word cut like glass.
"Tell me how you are different."
The air grew tense as Lancelot's face hardened.
"I am different because I carry hope! The hope that by forging myself into the strongest, I will avenge my family and ensure that Dracula will finally meet his end! And you…" His blade rose, pointing at her. "You are nothing but the manifestation of destruction. A reminder that this world teeters on the edge of ruin!"
Grimhild slowly lifted her staff as violet sparks flared at its tip.
"Then let ruin speak."
The arena's barrier walls vibrated as the Archmagi above fortified their spells to reinforce their strength.
Arminel's voice boomed across the coliseum.
"The duel begins!"
In that instant, the ground erupted.
Lancelot dashed forward with Arondight blazing, cutting the air with a force that split stone.
Grimhild stood still with her staff unmoving until the very last heartbeat.
Then she whispered a single word.
"Iulfrozen."
The earth beneath her feet cracked open as multiple ice pillars burst upward to intercept his strike.
Arondight cleaved through them with fury, shattering the ice into dust, but the delay was enough for Grimhild to raise her staff and unleash another spell.
"Codelheidenzian!"
A powerful Catastrophe Spell was utilized as a torrent of destructive mana launched forward.
Lancelot halted the attack with his weapon as the collision shook the Bastion to its foundations.
Codelheidenzian destroyed all matter down to the quantum level and annihilated enemies down to their very last scrap of DNA.
The crowd screamed as the shockwave rattled every tier of the arena.
Sparks and stones rained down.
The protective wards screamed under the strain.
Lancelot staggered back as his eyes alighted with manic excitement, and Arondight emitted smoke from their clash of power.
"Yes! Yes, this is what I sought!" His laughter rang out like thunder. "You are the one! The one who can push me beyond my limits!"
Grimhild stepped forward through the smoke, unshaken, with her voice calm as ever.
"You sought strength, and you found death."
She raised her staff again—mana coiling at its tip, and space now trembling.
But even as the crowd gasped at the spectacle, far above in the Bifrost, Merlin leaned forward over her crystal globe, smirking.
"Perfect." She whispered. "Every strike, every movement… just as I foresaw. Adolvrien sings to me. Her destruction is mine! This will be your end, Grimhild Yorgana!"
The duel of Bastion was only beginning.