The clash of steel and claw echoed through the bloodied hall. Captain Rhys met the Duke's long, jagged nails with the tip of his sword, sparks flaring as metal struck corrupted talon. The two moved with terrifying speed, exchanging blow after blow. For a minute, it seemed almost a dance—a grotesque, deadly waltz of skill and raw power.
Rhys's expression remained unnervingly calm, almost bored, as though the creature in front of him were nothing more than a minor nuisance. Each strike from the Duke seemed designed to provoke him, yet Rhys's movements were precise, measured, unshakable.
"You Nexus insects!" the Duke snarled through gritted teeth, his voice twisting with fury. Dark energy seeped from his body, coiling like smoke around his blackened talons. His nails elongated further, curving into grotesque, lethal claws, and his form distorted. What had been a man now resembled a nightmare incarnate, monstrous and unholy.
Zuleika tilted her head lazily, one hand raised to her brow as if shading her eyes against the sun. "Oohhh… there it is," she murmured, her tone amused.
Aquila's silver eyes narrowed sharply. The air thickened with dark magic, heavy and suffocating, yet she remained composed, her own power quietly shielding her from the brunt of it. Only the faint shimmer around her indicated the invisible barrier.
"What… disgusting form is that?" she asked, her voice taut with restrained disgust.
Zuleika's crimson eyes didn't leave the duel. "That's probably the full power he can unleash in that body," she explained matter-of-factly.
"You see, when a Mage Dweller enters a human host, there's only so much magic they can use before the body starts breaking down. Overextend it, and it's the host that pays the price."
Aquila tilted her head, thinking. "Then… what happens if the body dies?"
"Then the Mage Dweller can't contract with a human again for at least a month," Zuleika said, her tone even, as if stating a simple law of nature.
Aquila's gaze sharpened, suspicion flickering in her silver eyes. "You seem… familiar with these Mage Dwellers."
Zuleika's lips curved in a small, almost wistful smile. "Well, yes. We sometimes encounter them on the ocean whenever the Empire of Tartagalia tries to launch an attack. They like to sneak into ships, possess sailors, and turn the tide of battle."
Aquila's brows drew together in disbelief. "You… what do you mean by we? You're a princess. Don't tell me you actually fight in naval wars with your knights?"
Zuleika's eyes softened, crimson warmth flickering in them. "I do," she admitted, her voice steady but gentle.
"Not because I enjoy battle… but because I want to protect my people. Every life, every village, every sailor—if my knights and I can fight to keep them safe, then I'll be there. That's what it means to be their princess. That's what it means to care for a kingdom."
Aquila blinked, slightly taken aback by the sincerity, the weight behind Zuleika's words. Even amidst the chaos, there was a quiet nobility in her declaration.
Suddenly, Captain Rhys's voice cut through the hall, calm but strained. "Uh… Your Highness," he called, his free hand trembling slightly as the Duke's dark power pressed him backward.
"Please… allow me now to use my other hand before I die."
Zuleika's crimson eyes sparkled with mischief and approval. She gave a quick thumbs-up. "Oke! Go ahead, Captain Rhys. Show us the real fight."
The knight straightened, slipping his free hand from behind his back. Steel gleamed in both hands as he adjusted his stance. The Duke's monstrous form coiled like a predator, black talons glinting dangerously.
And then, with a sudden, almost musical clang, the hall erupted in the real battle. The clash of two unstoppable forces—the Duke's corrupt power and Rhys's disciplined skill—shattered the air, sparks flying and shadows writhing as the fight truly began.
Zuleika leaned casually against a pillar, crimson eyes glinting with amusement, while Aquila watched with silent calculation, her silver gaze sharp and unreadable. The stakes had never felt higher, yet in the corner of the hall, a small spark of reckless excitement shimmered between the two princesses—one watching, one scheming.
The dance of steel and magic had begun.
Then it happened.
Captain Rhys shifted, and the rhythm of his movements changed. His sword flowed through the air like a tide, heavy and unstoppable, yet impossibly smooth. Each swing carried the weight of the ocean—the rise and fall of the waves, the crushing depth beneath, and the sudden pull of undertow that dragged everything in its path.
The Duke lashed out with his elongated, blackened talons, claws slicing through the air with unnatural speed, but Rhys's blade met each strike with effortless precision. He didn't simply block or parry—he absorbed, redirected, and countered. Each motion was fluid, cyclical, like a tide pushing against rocks, then retreating, then surging again, leaving the Duke staggering, forced onto the defensive.
The monstrous energy around the Duke hissed and sparked, the shadows of his dark magic writhing around him, yet even that could not pierce Rhys's rhythm. His strikes were measured but devastating, heavy with the force of disciplined power, yet moving with the grace of water flowing over smooth stones. Every step Rhys took pressed down like the ocean floor beneath a ship, dragging the Duke's momentum backward.
Step by step, the tables turned. The Duke's wide, predatory stance faltered. He hissed through gritted teeth, claws slicing through empty air as Rhys's blade came again and again, not just meeting him but dictating the pace, forcing him to retreat.
Aquila's silver eyes widened, and for the first time, a flicker of awe crossed her face. Her lips parted, breath catching in her throat as she watched the duel. I've never seen a battle like this… Her thoughts raced, her chest tightening. Every swing, every parry, every subtle shift of weight—it wasn't just skill, it was art.
Is this why Father… the Emperor… cannot make the Nexus bend? she wondered, a shiver running down her spine. Is this the true strength of a Nexus knight?
She bit the inside of her cheek, eyes narrowing as she absorbed every detail. Rhys moved like the ocean itself, each swing carrying weight and inevitability, yet his body remained unbroken, poised, calm—like water flowing freely, reshaping itself with every obstacle. The Duke's dark magic surged around him, a jagged, violent storm—but the knight's skill was a tide strong enough to push it back, to redirect it, to drown it in disciplined force.
The Duke growled, claws slashing wildly, sparks flying as he struck at Rhys again and again. But each blow was met with the same fluid precision. Step, pivot, block, counter—the rhythm relentless. The Duke's eyes widened with frustration, realizing that his monstrous power, terrifying as it was, could not dominate this tide.
Aquila's gaze flicked to Zuleika, who leaned lazily against the ruined pillars of the hall, crimson eyes glinting with amusement. Zuleika's lips curved in a knowing smile, her posture calm and effortless, yet there was a spark of excitement in her eyes as she watched Rhys move.
Aquila's thoughts swirled. Is the strength between a Nexus knight and an Imperial knight… really this vast? Is this… why Father always respected them? Why he trusted them to hold the defense at the ocean?
Her silver eyes didn't leave the duel, her mind replaying every movement, every shift in weight, every subtle angle of attack and defense. The hall seemed to pulse with the force of the clash—dark magic sizzling against the unstoppable tide of skill. Sparks flared, dust fell, and every strike sent vibrations through the floor.
Rhys stepped forward again, smooth as a breaking wave, the blade of his sword slicing through the shadows of the Duke's dark magic, forcing him back several paces. The monstrous figure hissed, claws striking uselessly at the rhythm he could not break.
And in that moment, Aquila realized something that chilled and exhilarated her all at once: the Nexus knights were not merely soldiers—they were forces of nature, and Captain Rhys was the storm incarnate.
"YOU ANNOYING LITTLE PUNK!" The Duke screamed, the words tearing through the hall like a thunderclap. Dark energy surged around him, warping the air, vibrating the walls, and forcing Captain Rhys backward a step. The sheer intensity of the Mage Dweller's power pressed down, almost palpable, as if the hall itself were trying to bend and break.
The Duke—or rather, the Mage Dweller inhabiting him—unleashed his full force. There was no turning back. His blackened claws stretched unnaturally, veins pulsing with corrupt magic, the shadows of his power writhing like living things. The dark energy threatened to tear through his own body, to burn his soul from the inside out, yet he drove it forward without hesitation. His intent was clear: the toll of magic mattered little, for he aimed to destroy the body—or perhaps end it entirely—claiming whatever remained of his host in the process.
Zuleika's crimson eyes flickered from the brilliance of the display. "Oh," she muttered, voice almost indifferent, "okay… Captain, that is enough."
Rhys glanced up, lips parting in protest. "Princess Zu—"
The words never left his mouth. The Duke struck, a fist larger than a man's, but Rhys, relying on instinct and training, slammed both forearms against it. The impact sent him hurtling backward, crashing through the wall with a deafening crack. Dust and debris rained down around him.
Zuleika exhaled, pinching the bridge of her nose. "I told you that was enough," she muttered, sighing audibly. Aquila's silver eyes widened as she watched the Princess stride toward the center of the hall, steps steady and unhurried, as though the oppressive weight of the Duke's magic were nothing to her.
"What are you—" Aquila whispered, her words trailing off. Her power, humming invisibly around her, could not fully explain the force she now sensed emanating from Zuleika.
One step, and the Nexus princess was inexplicably in front of Captain Rhys, kneeling just enough to meet his gaze as though scolding a child. Aquila froze, eyes wide, utterly transfixed. What… what was that just now? she breathed. Every instinct told her that this was beyond mere speed—it was mastery over space, presence, and power itself.
Zuleika bent down and lifted Captain Rhys's sword from the debris. Her fingers closed around the hilt with a deliberate, almost reverent grip. Rhys straightened, one arm injured from the earlier impact, but he bowed slightly, trust and acknowledgment passing silently between knight and princess.
Zuleika's crimson eyes flicked to the Duke, now more grotesque than ever, dark energy writhing around him like black serpents. She muttered under her breath, disgust clear in her tone.
"I don't recall this form being… disgusting before…"
The Duke snarled, saliva dripping from his lips as he lashed out with a clawed swipe from above. Zuleika's sword met it effortlessly, the blade moving like water itself, countering and slicing upward with precision. The force threw the Duke back, teeth gritted, claws scraping uselessly against the air as he stumbled.
Zuleika stood still, holding the sword steady before her. She exhaled, slow and deliberate, closing her eyes. The hall fell into a tense hush—the echoes of battle, the thrumming of magic, and the whisper of her breath.
Aquila's silver eyes narrowed. Is she… using her power? No… I thought the Vasiliou's strength came from blood magic… what is this?
A faint shimmer began to emerge around Zuleika. Waves of soft, cerulean light spiraled outward, rippling like water caught in slow motion. The aura pulsed gently, yet there was immense weight in it—the quiet authority of the ocean itself. Her sword reflected the shifting light, the blade glowing as though it had absorbed the tide and the rhythm of the sea, humming with unseen motion.
Then it happened. In a single, fluid movement, as if cutting through both air and time, the sword's edge became one with the rippling aura. Blue-tinted waves danced along the blade like liquid ribbons, curling, expanding, and flowing with silent grace.
Zuleika's form remained poised, statuesque, yet her presence seemed to extend outward, enveloping the hall in a tide of quiet devastation. The Duke's gaze, wild and feral, locked on the sword—but before he could react, before he could bring his claws to bear, the movement struck.
A whispering, liquid sound—the only warning—then the blade cut through the corrupted air. Time seemed to stretch for a heartbeat. The Duke's head fell silently, neatly, with a precision that mocked the chaos of his monstrous form. It hit the floor with a muted thud, eyes wide in disbelief.
The hall was still for a long, weightless moment. Dust hung in the air, and the faint shimmer of Zuleika's tide-like aura gradually faded, leaving only the scent of sea and ozone, subtle and cleansing. The oppressive weight of dark magic lifted as if the storm had been drained from existence.
Aquila's mouth fell open. Her silver eyes gleamed with awe and confusion, and for a moment, she could only stare at Zuleika, whose crimson gaze now held nothing but calm, quiet authority. The impossible had happened—beauty, precision, and overwhelming power had taken the Duke down before he even realized the tide had claimed him.
And in that moment, Aquila realized just how terrifyingly powerful the Kingdom of Nexus truly was. The precision, the control, the sheer force of Zuleika—it wasn't just skill; it was dominance.
Now I understand… why Father so desperately wants the Crown Prince to marry her, Aquila thought, her chest tightening. Not for alliance, not for titles… but for power. Whoever stands beside them becomes untouchable.
Her silver eyes lingered on Zuleika, awe and unease swirling together. This… is not a princess. This is an art of nature.