"He's already taken down two Grandmasters?"
Martha frowned as she looked up at the top floor observation deck where Raon stood.
"That annoying monster."
Like her, Raon hadn't swung a sword once in two months, yet he seemed to have grown much stronger. It was unbelievable, and though pride burned in her chest, so did envy.
"Raon Zieghart just did what Raon Zieghart does."
Burren snorted, as if Raon's feat was nothing out of the ordinary.
"Yeah. Always handsome."
Runaan nodded calmly, as though this were to be expected.
"Let's leave the Division Leader to his own devices and deal with those guys first, shall we?"
Krein pointed at the approaching subordinates of the demons.
"There—there are more over there!"
Dorian's lips trembled as he saw the demonized humans from the Black Tower summoning demonic energy at their fingertips, and the Sword Fanatics raising their blades.
"There are too many of them…"
"It's alright."
Burren stepped forward, drawing his sword.
"We absolutely won't lose."
The fierce wind rising from his aura carried a confidence that went beyond bravado.
"No Light Wind Formation today! Don't rely on your comrades—rely on the time and sweat you've invested!"
With a shout, Burren charged forward. The wind imbued in his sword cleaved demon subordinates in half.
"Alright."
Runaan thrust her Snow Flower into the ground, frost rising to grip the ankles of the demonized humans and Sword Fanatics.
"That's great!"
Martha laughed as she advanced. She stopped before the arena manager who had been giving orders to the Greedy Demon's subordinates.
"You're the strongest one here, right? Veraun."
Veraun—the infamous "Knight Slayer," known for massacring countless knights—scowled.
"Maran…"
"It's not Maran, it's Martha," she snapped, rotating her wrist around her sword.
"So you're the Rakshasa of the Light Wind Division…"
"Don't call me that." Martha's snort dripped with disdain.
"After all I've done for you, and this is how you repay me—"
"You did well for me?" Martha sneered, raising her chin.
"After feeding me poison that drove me into berserk mode?"
"T-that was—"
"Forget it." She cut him off, eyes flashing. "You're at the pinnacle of Master level, right? Then come. I'll devour you and take your place."
"Zieghart's brats are all arrogant!"
Veraun stomped the ground, bringing his longsword down to crush her.
"It's not because of Zieghart—I've always been arrogant!"
Martha swung upward, her sword meeting his in a clash that shook the air. The weight of his strike pressed her down, forcing her to grit her teeth.
'He's strong.'
His aura, sword power, and experience dwarfed hers. If she faltered for even a moment, she'd be crushed.
"It's too late for regrets—"
"Regrets? Don't make me laugh." Martha grinned through the pressure.
"Fighting you has meaning because you're strong."
Raon's teaching echoed in her heart—true growth came only from fighting those stronger.
She stepped forward, her will burning. Her sword stopped trembling and began to push his back.
"W-what is this…" Veraun's eyes widened.
"Now I understand." Martha's lips curled as the realization struck. Raon had once told her to find the center of gravity suited to her swordsmanship. Now, she had found it.
"Die!"
Veraun unleashed his full Astral Energy in desperation.
"You die first!"
Martha stomped down, channeling the weight of her entire body into her sword. Her Heavy Sword tore through his technique, ripping open his chest.
"Agh—it's not over yet!" Veraun screamed, gathering what aura remained.
"No, it's over."
Martha's calm strike shattered his blade and split his throat. He collapsed with disbelief frozen on his face.
Panting, Martha exhaled.
'That was tough.'
The enlightenment she gained had drained her body, but exhilaration burned brighter than exhaustion. She raised her head—
And froze.
Burren had already slaughtered the Deputy Demon Sword Master. Runaan had frozen a high-ranking demonized human solid. The Light Wind division overwhelmed their foes without formation, each warrior displaying power that bordered on monstrous.
"You bastards…" Martha's jaw dropped before she charged.
"Leave some for me too!"
"Hey."
Raon beckoned with a finger at the White Demon Swordsman.
"Isn't it about time you worried about yourself instead of your subordinates?"
"You don't know your place."
The swordsman bit his lip, raising his blade.
"A fake swordsman who relies on tricks can never match me."
"Then let's see."
Raon raised his Divine Sword and Demonic Sword. Aura exploded from the White Demon Swordsman, his long arms twisting unnaturally.
"I'll kill you!"
His blade, swift as lightning, darted for Raon's throat. At the last instant, the trajectory shifted—down toward Raon's collarbone. Raon barely deflected it with his Demonic Sword.
'As expected… adaptability is the key.'
The man's flexible body and long arms allowed his blade to flow with endless variation—almost like Sword Control itself.
Raon gritted his teeth.
'A new dish has been served.'
He resonated the Ring of Fire, absorbing every detail of the formless technique. Yet blood soon ran down his arms and thighs.
"Not bad, huh?"
The White Demon Swordsman sneered.
"You can't defeat me. I haven't even shown half of what I used against that elf."
His Formless Sword pressed harder, cutting Raon piece by piece.
But then—Raon's blade blocked him perfectly. Once. Then again. Then countered.
"What?" The White Demon Swordsman staggered back.
'Impossible. He adapted… so quickly?'
Raon's eyes burned like fire.
"I learned well."
With twin blades—one blooming cherry blossoms of flame, the other unfurling frost flowers—Raon unleashed the Ten Thousand Flames Cultivation. Twin Fire Spirits.
A storm of fire and ice petals shredded the Formless Sword technique and enveloped the White Demon Swordsman.
"AAAAARGH!"
His last, desperate strikes failed. The Invincible Azure-Red Sword, the pinnacle of Divine-Demonic Harmony, cut him down.
When the storm cleared, his corpse stood frozen in shock before collapsing.
"Really now…" Wrath's hollow laugh echoed in Raon's mind.
"You're better at exploiting weaknesses than anyone. Cunning like an angel."
"Don't insult me." Raon sheathed his blades.
"Wow."
Rimmer, lounging on a broken sofa, applauded.
"Copying the Formless Sword? You truly are my disciple."
Raon shook his head. "I was lucky. He showed me everything."
Rimmer tossed him a sword. "That's the Changra Sword. Part of the trade."
Raon placed the sword, the Holy Sword Manual, and a pearl necklace on the table. He picked up the necklace—
And froze.
A pitch-black face emerged from Marang's corpse, undulating like a shadow.
"What is that…"
Raon's eyes narrowed.
'Wasn't he dead?'
-That's not him. Wrath's voice was sharp. -That's something else entirely.
Rimmer stepped forward, lips bleeding from his bite.
"Step back. That's the Black Tower Master!"