Lucan fell from the sky, wind whipping through his hair.
As he descended, he drew his sword. The blade ignited in white-gold flames, and with a single motion, he unleashed a massive, flaming arc toward the ground.
Ivan, eyes narrowing at the oncoming strike, clenched his teeth and surged with mana. A crimson sword formed in his hand, pulsing with dense energy. With a sharp swing, he released a red arc of mana to intercept the attack.
The two forces collided midair.
Boom!
The explosion shook the ground. Smoke billowed in all directions.
Ivan barely had time to process before the smoke abruptly dispersed—cut apart by the sheer force of Lucan's next swing. The knight was already upon him, sword mid-strike.
Reacting on instinct, Ivan raised his blood sword and summoned a barrier. But Lucan's flaming blade smashed through both. The barrier cracked and shattered instantly; the blood sword only held for a second before it too broke apart.
The flame-infused strike slashed across Ivan's chest, and fire erupted across his body.
He was sent flying, crashing through a stone wall like a meteor.
Lucan landed gently, flipping midair before touching down.
From the rubble, Ivan emerged—wounded, but still standing. Mana surged from him like a wave. Burns laced his skin, and a deep wound bled down his chest, but both began to slowly heal as he regenerated.
"You damn holy knights are really starting to get on my nerves," he growled.
All around him, hundreds of blood swords materialized—floating beside and above him, trembling with murderous intent.
"I want you all to die."
With a flick of his hand, the swords launched—raining down like crimson death.
Above, spotlights from the airships still shone down, illuminating Ivan in a harsh white glow. He glanced upward, a flicker of anger passing across his face… then a slow smile formed.
Without a word, he raised his hand again and launched another volley of blood swords—this time at the airships.
CLANG!
The swords struck an gold dome of energy—a barrier.
From one of the airships, a girl descended slowly. She had yellow hair, glowing yellow eyes, and wore the robes of the Church of Light.
Saintess Elira Veyne, a Seventh-Circle Mage and one of the Church's most powerful defenders.
Knights leapt from the airships, descending alongside her.
Ivan's eyes narrowed. He took to the skies again, blood magic crackling around him. With a roar, he conjured even more blood swords and hurled them in every direction.
CLANG! CLANG!
The swords slammed into Saintess Elira's barrier, and she raised another one—this time surrounding the King down.
All around, knights raised shields or summoned magic to block, struggling to withstand the deadly rain.
Amidst the chaos, with his attack launched, Ivan turned and fly away