Ivan stood at the center of the crater, teeth clenched in a wild grin as he surveyed the battlefield.
Hundreds of knights surrounded him, armored and armed, their banners fluttering in the wind.
"There sure are a lot of knights," he muttered, amused. "To think the Holy Empire would mobilize this many just to capture me.
Not sure if I should feel honored..." His smile widened. "But I suppose I ought to show my gratitude."
Above him, blood-red blades shimmered into existence, floating ominously as the knights began their charge.
A crimson sword materialized in his hand.
"By killing you all."
The blood swords rained down like a storm.
A golden barrier rose to intercept them, but Ivan was already in motion, cutting down knights with brutal precision.
Blood sprayed the air, painting his face.
He licked it off with a grin.
"If you wanted to capture me," he said, "maybe bringing an army wasn't a good idea."
With a flick of his fingers, blood began to churn across the ground.
From the puddles left by the fallen, chains erupted, launching outward with deadly speed, tearing through armor and flesh alike.
From a distance, Lucan leapt, his blade poised to strike. Ivan turned, eyes locking on the attacker.
He launched his chains, but Lucan cut through them midair, weaving and deflecting before swinging down.
Ivan dodged, leaping back.
The moment Lucan's feet touched the ground, more blood chains shot up to ensnare him.
He cleaved through them, undeterred, and charged again.
The floating blood swords launched themselves at Lucan.
He swatted them aside, one by one—until like a blur of lightning appeared behind Ivan.
Cedric.
The blade pierced through Ivan's back and out his chest.
But Ivan didn't flinch.
A slow smile spread across his face. "I've been expecting you."
With one hand, he gripped the sword that impaled him.
His other arm, still wielding a blood sword, swung upward—only to be severed mid-swing.
Ivan's gaze snapped to the side. Thane stood there, blade drawn, having cut through Ivan's arm in a single stroke.
"Da—" Ivan began, but was cut off as Lucan's flaming sword came down, slashing deep across his chest.
Cedric followed through, slashing again, this time cleaving off Ivan's fingers.
Snarling, Ivan unleashed a burst of blood magic.
Chains surged out again—but the three reacted instantly, dodging back in perfect sync.
As the dust settled, Ivan stood tall. His hand had already regrown, and his wounds were gone