The battle between Movern and Rynara had reached a point no one could have predicted. Rynara's rage had pushed her into a terrifying transformation, her body swelling with blood-born power and corrupted aura. Her claws had become massive blades. Blood wings grew from her back, dripping crimson energy. Her entire body looked like something carved out of living scarlet stone, and the aura around her felt heavy, violent, and unstable.
Movern, on the other hand, had not changed much. He stood calmly, katana in hand, his expression relaxed, almost peaceful. He looked as if he were standing by a river rather than in the middle of a deadly fight. Even when Rynara exploded with corrupted energy, he showed no fear or concern. If anything, he seemed more confident than before.
Rynara, still adjusting to the overwhelming power inside her, screamed in frustration and leapt forward. Her wings beat the air violently, and she launched the first attack in her new form.
Inside, Movern felt a dull heaviness settle in his chest. He had seen this kind of transformation before , not strength, but desperation given form. Rynara's power was loud, unstable, screaming for attention. It reminded him of a time long ago when he himself had relied on chaos instead of discipline. He did not pity her… but he understood the path she was walking. And because he understood, he felt strangely calm.
The clash began immediately.
Her claws slammed against Movern's katana, creating sparks and sharp ringing sounds. Each strike carried enough power to tear through steel. But Movern parried them smoothly, letting his body move with soft, controlled motions. Not once did he step back in fear. Rynara's strikes came from every angle, high, low, sideways, overhead, but Movern's sword moved like flowing water, turning aside every attempt at killing him.
For Rynara, the sight of Movern standing so easily made her heart burn with fury. The more she attacked, the more frustrated she became. She had transformed twice, pushed herself past her own limits, and yet Movern still looked calm.
That calmness enraged her.
She growled, "Crimson Burst Dash!"
Her wings flared open, blasting out a violent wave of blood-energy. Her entire body shot forward like a missile. She moved so fast she appeared as streaks of red light. She zig-zagged, changed directions mid-air, flipped, twisted, and rushed at Movern from unpredictable angles.
Movern didn't counterattack. He simply kept dodging.
Each time he slipped past her killing strikes by a hair's breadth, a quiet sigh formed in his mind. She's fast… but she's drowning herself. He could feel her emotions more clearly than her claws, the frustration, the panic hidden in her movements, the cracks in her technique. The more she raged, the easier she became to read. "Focus," he reminded himself silently.
Every time Rynara was an inch away from stabbing his heart, he leaned a little to the side. Every time she tried to slice his leg, he took one quiet step back. His movements were so smooth that they seemed unreal. It looked like he knew the path of her attack even before she launched it.
This only drove Rynara deeper into rage.
While dashing around, she launched crimson balls from her hands , or rather, chunks of blood hardened into unstable energy. These balls flew like burning meteors. Movern dodged them as well, but when they hit the ground, the earth melted like wax under fire.
The melted holes sizzled and smoked. Even a single graze would have torn off his flesh.
For the first time, Movern's eyes narrowed slightly.
He understood the danger.
Danger wasn't new to him, but something about this attack made his heartbeat slow rather than quicken. If she loses control… she'll destroy herself before she destroys me. The thought bothered him more than the threat to his own life. He tightened his grip on his katana, not from fear, but from responsibility.
But Rynara didn't stop.
She suddenly halted mid-air, spread her wings wide, and screamed, "Scream of the Scarlet Fiend!"
Her roar wasn't just loud, it was filled with unstable, violent emotion. The blood on the ground, especially the blood balls she had shot before, reacted instantly. Every drop began glowing and shaking.
Then they started exploding.
The ground erupted in dozens of blasts. Movern was forced to run, leaping left and right as scarlet flames burst behind him. The explosions shook the entire battlefield. Each one left deep holes and cracks in the open ruins.
But Rynara wasn't done.
She created a huge cloud of blood above them, swirling it into a sky-wide mass. Then she shouted:
"Raining Tears of Sorrowful Death!"
The cloud darkened, thickened, and began raining blood.
There was nowhere to hide. No rock, no wall, no cover existed in the open ruins. Movern stared up at the falling blood, knowing it was far too dangerous to simply stand still. Each droplet held deadly energy.
The first droplet touched his cheek, it burned like acid.
More began falling.
Within seconds, he was soaked in blood.
Rynara hovered above him, looking down like a devil ready to claim the soul of a sinner. Her laughter echoed across the ruins, twisted and filled with joy for the suffering she imagined he felt.
Then she screamed again, "Scream of the Scarlet Fiend!!!"
This roar was even more crazed than before. The blood rain began exploding , dozens, then hundreds of blasts going off one after another. The ground shook. Red steam poured everywhere. The world became a burning field of crimson dust and flames.
Rynara laughed through it all. For an entire minute, the rain did not stop, and neither did the explosions.
When the smoke finally cleared, Rynara hovered in the air, panting but confident.
There was no way anyone could have survived that.
Then she heard a calm voice:
"That is hit number 9. One more to go."
Her eyes widened in disbelief.
Movern stood below her. His skin was burned in several places, but he still held his katana firmly. His breathing was steady. His stance was unshaken. A faint glow of magic remained around him.
He felt pain in every muscle, the burn of acid-like blood, the heat of the explosions, yet his mind remained still. So this is her limit… and she thinks it's the end of me. A part of him wanted to speak gently to her; another part wanted to scold her like a stubborn child. But neither would help. So he held on to calmness instead, knowing that his composure was the only thing keeping her from breaking completely.
Before the blood rain had landed, he had gone into deep meditation, activating the magic "Calm Horizon." Even in the middle of chaos, he had focused his energy inward to protect his body and sword.
Rynara's shock turned into panic. She had thrown everything she had at him. He should have died. He should have melted into nothing. But he was still alive.
And he still had that same calm expression.
She screamed in frustration and launched her next attack without thinking:
"Wing Lancer!"
Her blood wings transformed into spearlike tendrils. She fired them like arrows, dozens of them, shooting from all angles.
Movern moved again.
But this time, his movements did not look like simple dodges. They resembled teleportation. His after-images flickered everywhere, making it impossible to track him. Rynara felt like she was fighting a ghost that kept slipping through her fingers.
Her fear grew. The quicker she attacked, the more helpless she felt. Her voice cracked as she screamed:
"What are you!? Why won't you die!? WHY!?"
Her voice cracked, and Movern felt a flicker of sadness. She doesn't want to win. She wants relief. Each blow she hurled wasn't meant to kill him, but to silence her own doubts, her own chains. "You poor child…" he thought, but didn't say it. He couldn't comfort her in the middle of a killing strike, so he chose the only mercy he could.
Rynara raised her wings again, preparing her strongest attack filled with both her crimson power and corrupted aura.
"Last Kiss of the Crimson Demon!"
Her wings grew massive, taking in unstable energy until they became several times larger than her body. She then dived straight toward Movern with overwhelming force.
Movern exhaled slowly and whispered his final move:
"Heavenfall Judgement."
Movern exhaled slowly. This will break her if I'm not careful. He felt the weight of the moment, not the threat to his life, but the responsibility of ending something she had never wanted to begin. This final attack… he didn't see it as her strength. He saw it as her last scream for someone to stop her. So he lifted his sword with reverence, not hatred.
He took a stance full of solemn calm. He lifted his sword upward, as if aiming at the sky above rather than at Rynara. His blade trembled with divine light. He aimed at the sky, at the heavens, because it was not the heavens who judged today. It was him who shall judge the heavens. A soul like Rynara, given no choice, pushed into misery… he held the heavens guilty.
Then he stepped once.
And cut.
A pillar of swordlight descended like judgment from the sky. It carved the entire battlefield in a straight line and collided with Rynara's attack.
The world flashed white.
The shockwave sent dust flying in every direction.
When the light disappeared, Movern dropped to his knees. Blood flowed from the deep cut across his torso. He held himself up using his katana, coughing hard.
Rynara also fell.
Her wings shattered into ash. Her body shrank, losing all its strength. She lay barely alive, the only reason she continued breathing being the corrupted power still holding her together.
Movern forced himself to stand.
He looked at her quietly and said, "That's the 10th hit. I will take my leave. And… this old man hasn't forgotten."
Then, without hesitation, he took his katana and cut off his own left hand.
Rynara gasped in shock. She couldn't believe what she was seeing.
Movern wrapped a cloth around the wound and said with a calm smile, "There. As per the challenge, I lost my hand. Now… do you still want me to call those 3?"
Pain shot through him sharply, but his face did not show it. A promise is a promise. What hurt more was the look in Rynara's eyes, confusion, fear, a broken child hiding inside a monster's shell. He wondered if this was what Aelia, a certain someone who he hold dear to him had meant so long ago... mercy is not kindness… it is responsibility.
Rynara stared at him, confused, exhausted, and empty.
And after a moment she finally understood she had never stood a chance against someone like him. His resolve had been absolute from the beginning.
He softly added, "Don't worry. Don't blame yourself. I aimed at the heavens... I committed a sin. So let's say this hand is the price I paid to atone."
Rynara whispered, "So… you planned all of this… from the start?.. I'm such a fool."
Movern chuckled weakly as he finished wrapping his wounds. "Now then, I'll be going. Oh , if you don't mind, take care of my hand for me."
Rynara panicked. "What!? You're going to fight again? In that condition? You'll die!"
Movern smirked. "Oh? You care about me now? After everything you did?"
Rynara looked down, her voice small. "I was ordered to attack you… but now I know I'm nothing but a puppet. I thought I was saved, but I was wrong. I… won the challenge, right? Then… can I ask for something else?"
Movern raised an eyebrow. "What is it?"
"I… want to see the world. Take me with you."
Movern blinked. "You? The one who almost killed me… wants to go on a world tour with me?"
For a moment, he felt something shift inside him ,not pity, but recognition. She doesn't want freedom. She wants someone to teach her what it feels like. He wasn't sure if he could be that person. But he also knew turning her away now would break whatever fragile courage she had gathered.
"I mean it," she said softly. "This is my atonement."
Without waiting for his reply, she raised her hand. Blood strings formed a sphere above her. Her arm then dropped lifelessly as her body collapsed, drained of everything.
The sphere floated toward Movern, carrying his severed hand. It attached the hand back to his arm and healed the wound on his torso.
A voice echoed in his mind.
"Now I can see the world wherever you go. In return… you can have my power."
Movern did not argue. He knew he had no way to change what had just happened. With a deep breath, he turned toward the center of the battlefield and began walking.
The war continued, and he still had a role to play.
And so he silently moved forward.