The Black Knight gave his opponent no chance to breathe. He lunged forward like a shadowed arrow, his strikes swift and lethal, as if his blade were the very extension of a cutting wind. Alyssa barely managed to parry the relentless assault, retreating step by step, weaving the Art of Wind to narrowly dodge each strike at the last second. Every movement of his felt fluid—alive—like a living shadow that vanished and reappeared without warning.
Through her ragged breaths, Alyssa muttered, her eyes tracking the dark blade's unpredictable arcs:
"Where does this speed come from…? Who is this madman?"
The Black Knight sidestepped suddenly, launching a vicious strike toward her neck. Alyssa invoked a burst of wind, forcing her body backward as if caught by a miniature cyclone, narrowly evading the blow. With a sharp spin, she countered with a powerful slash aimed at his face, but the Knight deflected it, the clash of steel sparking in a flash that illuminated their grim standoff.
Alyssa staggered back, her chest heaving, her muscles screaming with strain. Retreat was not an option for a Valgar Knight—it was fight… or die.
The Black Knight tilted his head slightly, glaring from beneath the dark metal of his visor. His burning eyes seemed to analyze her every movement.
Then, without warning, he vanished from her line of sight.
"What?!" she gasped, only to feel a brutal kick slam into her ribs.
"Ugh—!" Her body crashed into a stone wall, the impact knocking the air from her lungs. Her sword clattered to the ground. She tried to push herself up, her hands trembling, as the Black Knight loomed over her, raising his blade for the final blow.
But before his strike could land, a sudden burst of light shot out, striking his arm and drawing several drops of blood.
"Hah… did you think that would stop me?!"
Behind him stood Aaron, his form glowing with radiant light, his eyes burning with ruthless resolve.
"Well, well. A lunatic who wants to play games," Aaron sneered.
The Black Knight turned toward Aaron, his gaze hard and almost hateful, as if Aaron's very presence offended him. A clash erupted between them—steel against steel—each strike ringing like thunder. Aaron's attacks were fierce, his sword blazing with a white glow that cut through the darkness. With a sudden surge, he unleashed a powerful beam of light, forcing the Black Knight to retreat several paces.
Aaron seized the moment, standing beside Alyssa and extending a hand to help her up.
"Having fun playing with this bastard?" he asked with a cold grin.
"Oh, we're having the time of our lives!" she snapped.
"Where's Carl?"
"How should I know? Maybe that lunatic got to him too!"
But the battle was far from over.
The Black Knight raised his sword, his dark aura swirling like living smoke. Suddenly, from his own body emerged a doppelgänger—a dark, living shadow shaped just like him.
"What… is that?" Aaron muttered, tightening his grip on his sword.
"What's wrong?" Alyssa asked, regaining her stance.
"This… looks like the strange creature I saw before this bastard attacked me."
Now the battlefield was even: Aaron and Alyssa against the Black Knight and his shadow.
---
The fight reignited, fiercer than ever.
The Black Knight stormed Aaron with a flurry of strikes, while his shadow lunged at Alyssa the moment she tried to assist her comrade. Swords clashed violently, sparks flying, the sound of metal shrieking as if the world itself had turned into a killing ground.
"So, you want to play like that, huh?" Aaron muttered with dark amusement, while the Black Knight remained utterly silent, his fiery gaze glowing beneath the mask.
On the other side, Alyssa struggled with the shadowy clone, panting heavily at the creature's unnatural speed.
"Damn it… what is this cursed thing?!"
Her strikes were useless; the shadow evaded every attack with ghostly precision. Then, with a flick of its hand, it conjured a blade of pure darkness—an exact replica of the Knight's sword, but gleaming with a sinister black glow. It was then Alyssa realized the truth: the Black Knight's power wasn't random brutality but a refined, deadly Art she had never encountered before.
The two traded blow after blow. Though the shadow was slightly weaker than the Knight himself, it was far from an easy opponent.
Meanwhile, Aaron's fight was turning into a test of survival. He channeled the Art of Light to pierce the Knight's defenses, but the Knight's speed defied expectation. In a crucial moment, Aaron slashed downward with a decisive strike—but the Knight parried with deadly precision, countering with a savage blow that ripped Aaron's armor and left a deep gash across his chest.
Aaron stumbled back half a step, glancing at the wound as it began to seal itself under his healing light. He smirked coldly.
"That won't work on me… and you know it."
The Black Knight gave him no time to recover, switching into a stance Aaron had never seen before. He unleashed a relentless barrage, each strike faster and more brutal than the last. Aaron gritted his teeth, blocking and dodging, blood trickling from fresh wounds. Finally, he rammed his shoulder into the Knight's chest, forcing a brief separation.
In that fleeting moment, Aaron reached out telepathically to Alyssa.
"Alyssa, can you hear me?"
"I'm busy fighting this freak—don't distract me!"
"Listen to me. I've got a plan."
"Say it before he kills us both!"
The Black Knight charged again, their swords locking with a deafening screech.
"You'll land the final blow," Aaron said through clenched teeth.
"What are you talking about?!"
"The shadow… it's not real. You can shatter it if you focus. Get close to me—understood?"
"…Fine. I'll try."
"Good. When you're close, I'll pin this bastard. Then, use your Wind Splitter technique on his head. Aim carefully… and try not to take mine off in the process."
"You're insane."
"No other choice against someone even crazier."
"Alright… I'm on it."
Aaron launched another assault, buying her time. Alyssa pressed harder against the shadow, her strikes turning into a whirlwind until she finally forced it back. Step by step, she closed in.
The Black Knight suddenly thrust for Aaron's heart. Aaron blocked with his armored shoulder, then grappled the Knight, locking him in place with all his strength.
"Now, Alyssa!" he roared.
Alyssa unleashed a devastating gust of wind, tearing through the shadow's body—it dissipated like smoke. Without pause, she leapt forward, her sword carving through the air in a final, piercing slash toward the Knight's face. He tilted just in time, but her blade ripped across the right side of his mask, shattering it and drawing a streak of blood beneath his eye. At the same instant, Aaron drove a hidden dagger into the Knight's side, eliciting a muffled grunt of pain.
With a brutal punch, the Black Knight knocked Aaron back and staggered away, half his face exposed.
Aaron froze, his eyes wide with shock.
"What…? Carl!!?"
The Black Knight faltered, as if the name struck him. Then, with a surge of dark energy, he cloaked himself in a veil of shadows and vanished into the night.
"Wait—come back here!" Aaron shouted, but the void swallowed his voice.
Alyssa turned to him, stunned.
"What do you mean, Carl?"
"Carl… it was him! I'm sure of it… I'd recognize that eye anywhere."
"Are you insane? Why would he attack us?"
"A traitor… a lunatic. That's why."
"Where did he get that power? And that technique?"
"That's no mere power… it's an Art. It's like what that other bastard from the Academy created."
Alyssa's eyes widened.
"That bastard… I thought he died long ago."
"We killed him together, remember? We killed him and his damned art. But it seems someone learned before he died. If that's true, I'll kill him myself."
Aaron paused, his voice low and shaken.
"The strangest part is… I don't know how I'm still alive. When Carl attacked me… he cut my head clean off. I couldn't move. I felt… finished. Then, a brilliant light enveloped me—it felt like the Ruler himself was there. In an instant, my body was restored."
Alyssa stared at him, incredulous.
"You've lost your mind, Aaron."
"I'm not joking, Alyssa. The Ruler's power is beyond anything we understand. But worse, we're facing a traitor—Carl, one of our own. All that time together… it was all a lie, a trap."
A heavy silence lingered. Then Alyssa whispered:
"I think I'm beginning to understand something…"
Aaron laughed weakly, blood staining his lips.
"Really? Then tell me… who the hell is Carl?"
---
Everything had been planned to perfection.
A lone man sat in a dimly lit room, hunched over a desk covered in papers and cryptic diagrams. A leather notebook lay open before him, and his hand gripped a black pen so tightly it carved deep lines into the page.
"The success of my grand plan depends on countless details… those two wretches will soon rise to Valgar rank. The easiest way to track them is to stay close. This is the only way. Alyssa Brown… Aaron Storm… everything I do now is for you, Master."
The first step had been forging a new identity. His new name: Carl Adler.
He meticulously crafted fake documents, posing as a talented graduate from a combat academy. Then he passed the grueling tests to infiltrate the ranks of the Valgar Knights.
He had to be unimaginably careful. Any slip-up, any strange action, and his plan would crumble—especially when dealing with people like Alyssa and Aaron.
The next step was clear: choose the perfect time and place for an ambush. He needed a catalyst—a reason strong enough to draw the Valgar Knights out.
He chose the Zarquan Colony, near the border of Kalishko.
On the designated night, every detail was ready. He approached in silence, the silence of death itself… and began.
A muffled gasp. The wet sound of a blade piercing flesh.
"Ughh…"
One by one, he cut down the guards outside the colony with surgical precision. Inside, the front hall swarmed with soldiers. He walked in slowly, deliberately, his strange appearance throwing them off guard.
One soldier frowned, whispering:
"Huh? What's with that gu—"
Before he could finish, his head rolled to the ground. The others barely had a moment to react before drawing their weapons, thinking they could overpower him.
Moments later, the hall drowned in the sounds of slicing flesh, blood splattering, and choked screams—until silence reigned, broken only by the drip of blood on stone. He left no survivors.
That same night, he slaughtered several police officers, spreading chaos and making it seem like a deranged killer was on the loose.
As expected, the massacre was discovered by transport workers at dawn. By then, he was already wearing the disguise of a police messenger, carrying a forged report about the incident.
---
In the halls of the Lumeira Public Security Office, an officer with the golden Lumeira emblem on his shoulder strode quickly, a thick file tucked under his arm. He opened a door and placed the report on the reception desk in front of the supervisor.
"A report from the head of the investigation unit."
The supervisor's brows shot up. He opened the file and read aloud, his voice a mix of shock and disbelief:
"A massacre at Zarquan Colony… last night… all soldiers dead? No survivors? And some officers went missing or turned up dead too? All in one night?!"
"Yes. Strange, isn't it?" the officer said coolly.
"Perpetrator unknown… impossible for one person, even with enhanced abilities. The report requests urgent support from the Valgar Knights… and asks… not to inform the Ruler?"
The supervisor looked at the officer with a wary frown.
"Are you sure the head of the investigation unit requested that?"
"I'm just the messenger, sir."
---
"Fine. I'll handle it."
---
Everything had gone smoothly—just as planned. But Carl hadn't foreseen one thing, one fatal detail.
"How the hell is that bastard still alive after I cut his head clean off?! Is this some cursed power of the Ruler?"
He gritted his teeth, pain tearing through his body.
"Damn it… this hurts."
After a brutal fight, Carl—once known only as the Black Knight—staggered through the pitch-black forest. His hand pressed against the deep wound in his side, carved there by Aaron in their last clash. Each step drained him further; it was all he could do to stay conscious.
Through the trees, he spotted faint lights seeping from the windows of scattered homes—a small, remote village at the forest's edge. He stumbled toward it, finally collapsing against the wall of a shabby cottage.
He slid down, his breath ragged, blood dripping freely. With a trembling hand, he removed his bloodstained iron mask and let it drop to the ground as though it were too heavy to bear.
In a broken whisper, he murmured:
"Soon… I'll be joining you, Master."
Moments later, a soft, startled voice approached.
"Are… are you alright?!"
He lifted his head weakly, his vision blurring. All he could make out was the silhouette of a woman, her hair swaying with the night breeze. Before he could respond, darkness claimed him. .