Dominica was born to counter Klara.
Hovering just beyond the reach of Klara's sword aura, he peppered the grounded warrior with wind blades—small but infuriating cuts that left Klara seething.
"Dominica! If you're a real man, fight me on the ground!" Klara roared, though he dared not complain about the rules in front of the queen. This was a competition for the **Bloody Vanguard**, the commander of the invasion force against the human world. Any means of victory was permitted.
With a frustrated slash, Klara sent another sword aura whistling through empty air.
Dominica laughed, his crimson wings beating lazily. "You think I'd fall for that?" A supercharged wind blade was his only reply before he blurred into another evasive maneuver.
Klara's eyes burned as he tracked Dominica's rapid circling. His sword strikes grew wilder, none even grazing Dominica's cloak.
Wind blades were child's play for Dominica. His true power lay in **fire magic**—specifically, **Inferno Burst**, a spell that detonated inside its victim. In battle, it left no intact corpses.
As he flew, Dominica plotted. Klara's mercy toward Sincia had enraged the Western generals. And though few had noticed, Dominica had seen the Grand Vizier's brief intervention.
He had to kill Klara before the Vizier interfered again.
Slowly, methodically, Dominica herded Klara toward the arena's edge, descending as he did.
Klara pretended to retreat, but his free hand twitched subtly. Just a little lower...
When Klara's heels met the precipice, Dominica struck—a massive wind blade aimed to force him over the edge.
Klara dodged—but not backward. Instead, he **leaped upward**, using his sword aura as propulsion, rocketing toward Dominica.
As the distance closed, both warriors grinned.
**CRACK!**
The clash was brief. Dominica reeled away, clutching a spurting stump where his arm had been. Klara's sword had found its mark—but at a cost.
A palm grazed Klara's side as he fell.
Then—**BOOM!**
Klara became a comet, wreathed in flames, crashing into the crowd below. His fiery demise took dozens with him, leaving behind charred, flattened remains.
Even battle-hardened demons retched at the carnage.
The second duel ended—one dead, one maimed. No true victor.
---
Without pause, two new generals took the stage.
Unlike their predecessors, these warriors bowed not just to their queen but to each other, exchanging formal introductions.
"Enidethal, First-Class General of the Northern Territories. My weapon: the Crescent Moon Blade."
"Julius, First-Class General of the Southern Territories. My weapon: the Rapier."
Their duel was measured, precise—no deaths, no grudges. Not all craved the title of Bloody Vanguard.
By day's end, thirty first-class and seventy-five second-class generals had competed. Most bouts ended in seconds—no flourishes, only ruthless efficiency.
Though twenty suffered serious injuries, none matched the first two duels' brutality.
The Bloodthirst Arena lived up to its name, its stones slick with blood—mostly from Eastern and Western rivals finally settling old scores.
---
Standing atop the gore-stained platform, **Corwinel** awaited his queen's blessing.
Twenty-three opponents had fallen to earn this moment.
On the Stargazer Throne sat **Queen Brigitte**—a vision of beauty with her delicate features, piercing eyes, and lips like rose petals. Her gown hugged curves that could tempt saints and sinners alike.
And her gaze was fixed on him alone.
*How long has it been?*
The little girl he'd cherished in his heart had blossomed into this radiant woman.
She'd been three or four when they met—he, a battered eight-year-old street urchin; she, a runaway princess who'd nursed him back to health.
Only when royal guards came for her did he learn her name: **Brigitte**, the Demon King's sole heir.
Back then, he'd only felt gratitude. But as years passed, that gratitude became love—a love that outlasted every hardship.
From foot soldier to third-class general, then second-class, and now first—he'd climbed faster than any in history. All for the chance to see her again.
When the old king died, he'd spent sleepless nights staring at the stars, aching to comfort her.
Now, finally, she looked at him—**only him**.
Yet...
His heart didn't race as it once had.
*Why?* He loved her still—didn't he?
**What has changed—the queen, or the man who once adored her?**