Theron swung his sword.
Ivan blocked—but the force sent him flying back, smashing into the wall.
Theron didn't waste a second. He closed the distance, murmuring softly,
"O Goddess of Light, she who is the light itself—bless my blade with your sacred fire, so that I may strike down this darkness."
His sword burst into golden flames. He swung.
Ivan raised his blade to block—CLANG!—the impact was massive.
The force drove them both through the stone wall, tumbling through debris and rock.
Mid-air, Theron punched, landing another blow.
Ivan's sword cracked—then shattered—just as the flaming blade tore through his hand.
Gritting his teeth in pain, Ivan leaned back and, using both legs, kicked Theron.
Theron blocked with his sword, punching off the momentum.
Ivan's body twisted mid-air, spinning.
He landed lightly on his feet—right where his hand had been severed, still aflame.
Without hesitation, he gripped what remained of the limb, tore it off cleanly, and tossed it aside.
It disintegrated before it even hit the ground—incinerated, leaving not even ash.
But then—we see it.
The hand regenerates.
Fully grown.
In a single second.
Suddenly, Ivan leapt back—just as Theron landed hard, punching the ground with such force it left a crater.
Theron launched forward, his flaming sword cleaving through the air.
Ivan dodged—but the strikes kept coming.
Rapid. Precise. Relentless.
Theron swung again and again, his blade a blur of golden fire.
Ivan barely managed to evade them all—until, from behind, another blade sliced toward him.
Sensing the ambush, he jumped up just in time to dodge.
He landed lightly—eyes narrowing.
A Holy Knight.
Then another. And another.
All around them now stood Holy Knights, swords drawn, shields raised.
Priests in white and blue robes chanted softly, their presence radiating divine energy.
Ivan glanced around, lips curling into a small smile.
"Looks like your Holy Knights have arrived."
His eyes turned back to Theron, now surrounded by the faithful.
He continued:
"But tell me, King Galewyn… isn't it a little too late? Since your beloved queen… is already dead."
The Knights lunged forward, their weapons glowing with Mana.
Theron's golden eyes burned. He glared at Ivan and roared:
"I WANT HIM DEAD! DEAD, DO YOU HEAR ME?!
Cut off his limbs—no matter how many times he regenerates—
I'LL KILL HIM MYSELF!"
Ivan smiled calmly.
Releasing a wave of blood-red Mana, he raised one hand.
Above him, a hundred crimson blades materialized in an instant.
"Die," Ivan said simply.
And with a flick of his hand, the blades rained down screaming through the air.
At that exact moment, all the Priests clapped their hands together in unison, chanting:
"O Goddess of Light, she who is light in the darkness—let your divine veil descend and shield. Protect us from the darkness."
A radiant golden barrier erupted around them, meeting the incoming blades with divine force.