Blood dripped steadily from Draven's chin.
His breathing had become ragged.
Uneven.
Labored.
Every heartbeat felt wrong.
Every pulse of mana ripping through his body felt like broken blades carving through flesh and bone.
Pain radiated through every nerve.
His muscles screamed.
His organs felt as though they were being shredded from within.
Yet—
he remained standing.
Crimson eyes locked onto Aurelia.
Unmoving.
Unwavering.
Then—
something changed.
Deep within him, the endless folding mass continued to spin.
Not faster.
Slower.
For the first time since the battle began—
he stopped forcing it to contain everything.
Stopped forcing it to suppress the holy mana trapped within him.
The countless strands of purified holy energy.
The remnants of absorbed mana.
The overwhelming power he had spent the entire battle holding back.
Enduring.
Containing.
He finally let it go.
Not outward.
Not into his body.
Into his sword.
SHHHHHHHHH—
Mana surged toward the black blade like a tidal wave.
Holy mana.
Crimson mana.
Purified mana.
Corrupted mana.
Every fragment of power he possessed poured into the weapon.
The sword trembled violently.
Steel groaned in protest.
Hairline fractures spread across its surface.
Tiny cracks raced along the blade.
The cheap weapon had never been forged to contain something like this.
Blood spilled from Draven's mouth.
He coughed.
Once.
Twice.
Dark red blood splattered across the shattered platform.
Yet his grip never loosened.
Not even slightly.
Far across the battlefield—
people felt it.
The war-torn landscape grew strangely quiet.
Not because the fighting had stopped.
Not because the explosions had ceased.
But because attention shifted.
Everyone felt it.
The change.
The pressure.
The mana.
A holy knight frowned deeply.
"...What is that?"
A nearby priest stiffened.
"It feels like holy mana."
A bounty hunter immediately shook his head.
"...No."
His face paled.
"That's not holy mana."
A mage standing nearby stared toward Draven.
Sweat formed across his forehead.
"It's similar..."
His voice faltered.
Then he whispered,
"...but something is wrong."
Very wrong.
The energy surrounding Draven felt distorted.
Twisted.
As though holy power had been dragged somewhere it was never meant to exist.
A place beyond its natural purpose.
Aurelia felt it too.
Her golden eyes narrowed.
Every instinct she possessed screamed a warning.
Far away—
even Aldric stopped smiling.
His crimson eyes widened slightly.
"...Draven."
For once—
there was no amusement in his voice.
No mockery.
No entertainment.
Only concern.
Because he knew exactly what Draven was doing.
And he knew exactly what it would cost.
Back at the center of the battlefield—
Draven slowly inhaled through his nose.
The breath was calm.
Measured.
Controlled.
Blood continued to stream from his eyes.
From his nose.
From the corners of his mouth.
Yet his stance stabilized.
His sword lowered slightly.
The air around him became eerily still.
Then—
he exhaled.
A long hiss escaped his lips.
SSSSSSSSSHHHHHHH—
The sound was quiet.
Almost insignificant.
Yet the battlefield changed.
Everyone felt it.
The pressure surrounding him shifted.
Not stronger.
Sharper.
More concentrated.
More absolute.
As though every remaining fragment of power within his body had been compressed into a single purpose.
A single strike.
A single kill.
Blood continued to run down his face.
From his eyes.
From his nose.
From the corners of his mouth.
His skin had grown deathly pale.
His breathing remained uneven.
His body was clearly approaching its limit.
Yet his crimson eyes never wavered.
Never blinked.
Never left Aurelia.
Aurelia felt it immediately.
The danger.
The certainty.
The killing intent.
Her golden eyes narrowed.
All three blessings ignited simultaneously.
Golden lightning erupted across her armor.
Divine flames roared around her body.
Healing light continuously repaired the injuries she had already suffered.
Even so—
her instincts screamed.
Danger.
Move.
Now.
BOOOOOOOM!!
The platform beneath Draven exploded.
He vanished.
Aurelia's pupils contracted.
Fast.
Too fast.
Even after everything—
he had somehow become faster.
A streak of black and crimson tore across the battlefield.
The air ruptured behind him.
BOOOOOOOOM!!
Aurelia swung.
A massive blade of holy lightning and divine flame surged forward.
The attack split the battlefield apart.
Draven didn't dodge.
He ran straight through it.
The divine flames engulfed him.
Golden lightning crashed into his body.
Flesh burned.
Skin split apart.
Blood erupted from fresh wounds.
Yet he never slowed.
Not even for a moment.
The watching crowd froze.
"...What?"
"...He ran through it?"
"...Is he insane?!"
Aurelia's eyes widened.
For the first time—
she felt uncertainty.
A flicker of doubt.
Draven burst from the sea of flames.
His body smoking.
Burning.
Destroying itself with every movement.
Yet somehow—
still advancing.
Still charging forward.
His sword was already descending.
SHIIIIIIIIING!!
Aurelia raised her blade.
CLAAAAAAAAANG!!
The collision detonated.
Golden lightning exploded outward.
The steel platform beneath them shattered.
Cracks raced across its surface for hundreds of meters.
Aurelia's arms trembled.
Her eyes widened.
Because she realized something immediately.
The power behind that strike wasn't normal mana.
It wasn't dark mana.
It wasn't demonic mana.
It wasn't holy mana.
It felt like all of them.
Crushed together.
Folded together.
Forced into something unnatural.
Something unstable.
Something that should not exist.
Something wrong.
Draven coughed blood.
Then swung again.
SHIIIIING!!
Aurelia blocked.
BOOOOOOM!!
Another shockwave erupted.
She slid backward.
Then another strike came.
And another.
And another.
Each one heavier than the last.
Each one carrying the sensation of imminent death.
The battlefield disappeared beneath an endless storm of destruction.
BOOM!!
CLANG!!
BOOM!!
CLANG!!
BOOM!!
CLANG!!
Their figures vanished within the violent maelstrom of light, fire, lightning, and shattered steel.
Far away—
even Aldric glanced toward them.
His grin faded.
"...You idiot."
For once—
there was no amusement in his voice.
Because he understood exactly what Draven was doing.
He wasn't sacrificing mana.
He wasn't sacrificing reserves.
He was sacrificing everything.
Every ounce of strength remaining in his body.
Every fragment of energy left within him.
Every second his broken body could still endure.
All of it.
Thrown into a single objective.
One final kill.
Back within the storm—
Aurelia's breathing grew heavier.
Her blessings burned brighter.
Divine power surged through her body.
Yet Draven kept coming.
Unstoppable.
Relentless.
Like a corpse refusing to acknowledge death.
Blood poured endlessly from his mouth.
His vision blurred.
Dark spots formed at the edges of his sight.
His body screamed for him to stop.
His organs were being torn apart faster than they could regenerate.
Still—
he advanced.
Still—
he attacked.
Still—
his crimson eyes never left Aurelia.
Then—
Draven raised his sword.
The strange mana coating the black blade condensed even further.
The weapon trembled violently.
The fractures across its surface deepened.
The surrounding air distorted.
Reality itself seemed to bend around the blade's edge.
Ripples spread through space.
As though the world could no longer comfortably contain what was gathering there.
Aurelia felt her heartbeat stop.
For the briefest moment—
every instinct she possessed screamed.
Death.
Not defeat.
Not injury.
Not failure.
Death.
Real death.
A genuine possibility.
The kind that could not be healed.
Could not be reversed.
Could not be escaped.
Draven took one final step forward.
Blood dripped from his chin.
Crimson eyes glowed through the blood running down his face.
His body looked ready to collapse.
His flesh was torn.
His bones cracked.
His organs failing.
Yet somehow—
he was still standing.
Still fighting.
Still moving.
Then—
he swung.