The storm swallowed the academy whole.
Rain poured endlessly, hammering against stone and steel, drowning the world in noise—yet within that chaos, another sound rang sharper than thunder.
Steel colliding with steel.
The academy stood empty. No voices. No witnesses.
Only rain.
Only clashing swords.
Only two figures sprinting across the rooftop at full speed.
Rick and Will fought without restraint.
They moved like shadows cutting through the storm—running, turning, striking—each attack aimed not to wound, but to end. Every swing sought a weakness. Every dodge came within inches of death.
Neither blinked.
Neither hesitated.
The rooftop slick with rain betrayed Rick first.
His foot slid.
In that instant—
Will lunged.
His blade shot forward, aimed straight for Rick's neck.
Rick twisted at the last moment.
Steel tore into his shoulder instead.
Blood burst free, lost immediately in the rain.
Rick grunted and answered not with words—but with a punch.
His fist slammed into Will's face.
The impact snapped Will's head back. He staggered, boots scraping across stone leaving the sword in Rick's shoulder.
Breathing hard.
Blood mixing with rain.
Rick reached up, grabbed the sword embedded in his shoulder—and ripped it out with a roar. He hurled it off the rooftop, watching it vanish into the darkness below.
One arm hung uselessly at his side, shaking violently.
Blood poured freely now.
Will steadied himself, eyes sharp once more.
Seeing Rick threw his sword, Will planted his feet.
He took a stance.
Bare-handed.
Rick exhaled slowly—and smiled.
Then he charged.
Rick attacked first.
Will swatted the blade aside with his forearm, shifting the sword's path just enough. At the same time, his fist drove forward—straight into Rick's stomach.
The air exploded from Rick's lungs.
Will followed immediately.
A brutal punch to the chin.
Rick was launched backward, skidding several steps across the rooftop before barely managing to stay upright.
Rick barely had time to breathe.
The moment his boots hit the rooftop, he forced himself upright, muscles screaming, lungs burning as rain lashed against his face. His vision swam—but he saw Will. Charging straight at him. No hesitation. No mercy.
Rick dropped into a fighting stance, teeth clenched, timing his strike.
But it was oo late.
Will's speed surged unnaturally, a sudden burst that shattered Rick's rhythm. Before Rick could react, Will was on him—hands gripping his shoulder with brutal force. The world lurched as Will dragged him backward, sprinting toward the edge of the rooftop.
Rick fought, dug his heels in, but gravity and momentum betrayed him.
They were airborne.
"—I'm not—" Rick's breath tore from his chest as the ground rushed up to meet them.
They hit hard.
The impact knocked the air from Rick's lungs in a violent gasp. Pain exploded through his body, white and blinding. Will twisted at the last second, minimizing the damage—but it didn't spare him either.
Rain soaked into the concrete beneath them as both lay sprawled, broken breaths the only sound between the pounding downpour.
Rick tried to focus. Tried to move.
His vision blurred, dark spots bleeding into the world. Every nerve screamed. His body felt distant, unresponsive, like it no longer belonged to him.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke.
Then Will moved.
Groaning, he crawled across the ground, one hand clutching his side as he forced himself up, rain plastering his hair to his face. He stood—unsteady, but standing.
Rick was still down.
"Damn it… get up," Rick snarled through clenched teeth, the words echoing only inside his head. He forced his arms beneath him, muscles shaking violently. Feeling slowly crept back—but with it came agony.
His shoulder burned. Sharp. Wet.
Blood.
He had landed headfirst. His skull rang like it had cracked open, and the ground spun beneath him. Still, he tried. Again. And again.
But Will was already on his knees, then his feet—bruised, battered, but upright.
Rick finally pushed himself halfway up, legs trembling uncontrollably, every movement threatening to send him crashing back down.
Rick was still struggling to rise when Will reached him.
There was no warning.
Will drove his knee straight into Rick's face.
The blow snapped Rick's head back, pain detonating behind his eyes as he crashed onto the ground once more. Before he could recover, Will was on him—fists raining down relentlessly. Each strike landed with a dull, sickening thud as Rick curled inward, arms barely managing to shield his head.
Punch after punch.
Rain mixed with blood. Rick's vision blurred, the world flashing white and black as his body absorbed the punishment. His ribs screamed. His jaw burned. Every breath felt like broken glass.
But then—
Rick clenched his teeth.
With a raw, animal scream tearing from his throat, he surged upward, driving his shoulder into Will's leg. The sudden force knocked Will off balance. He stumbled—and fell hard onto the ground.
Rick didn't waste the moment.
He threw himself on top of Will and began to strike.
Once.
Twice.
Again and again.
His fists slammed into Will's face as rage and pain fused into something uncontrollable.
But Will wasn't finished.
With the last of his strength, he shoved Rick away violently, sending him crashing back onto the concrete.
Once again, both lay sprawled on the ground.
The rain fell harder.
For a long moment, there was nothing—no words, no movement—just two broken bodies breathing through agony.
Slowly, painfully, they began to rise.
Every muscle burned. Every wound throbbed. Their bodies trembled under the strain, but neither showed even the slightest intention of stopping.
Rick was worse.
Blood poured from multiple wounds, soaking into his clothes as his senses faded in and out. The world tilted dangerously, and it felt like a miracle that he was still conscious—let alone standing.
Eventually, both collapsed to their knees.
Their breaths came heavy, ragged, on the verge of giving out. Vision darkened at the edges, death hovering close enough to touch—but still, they forced themselves up.
Swords lay nearby.
Without looking away from each other, they crawled toward them.
Not to win.
Not to survive.
But because neither of them was willing to fall first.
The rain kept falling.
Cold. Heavy. Unforgiving.
They both slowly reached out for sword and stood up, barely held upright by their swords, bodies trembling as if one breath too many would shatter them. Blood mixed with rain and vanished into the cracks beneath their feet, as if the world itself was trying to erase what was happening.
Rick's hand shook violently around the hilt.
Every nerve screamed. His vision swam. His wounded arm felt like it didn't belong to him anymore—dead weight, useless, dripping red. Still, he forced himself to stand.
"Move…
Please… just move."
His lips parted.
"Please…" His voice broke, weak and desperate. "Please… move…"
He swallowed hard, forcing air into lungs that refused to cooperate.
"I… I want to win this."
The words felt pathetic. Childish. But they were true.
"No…" he whispered again, teeth clenched as tears mixed with rain. "I have to win this."
With a cry trapped deep in his chest, Rick dragged his useless arm up and wrapped both hands around the sword. Pain exploded through his body—white, blinding—but he welcomed it.
Pain meant he was still alive.
Across from him, Will watched in silence.
Blood streamed from his nose, warm against the cold rain. His legs shook. His chest felt hollow. Every breath burned like fire.
"Why… am I still here?"
His thoughts.
"If.... I wanted i could have ran away so...why? "
His purpose had always been simple.
Kill the man responsible for the death of his wife.
But now—now that Rick stood there, broken yet refusing to fall—something inside Will cracked.
"Why won't you give up?
Why do you look like that?"
Rick raised his sword.
Will instinctively took his stance.
And then it hit him.
Like a blade through the heart.
"That's it…
That's why."
Rick's eyes—filled with pain, fear, and stubborn resolve—were the same eyes Will once saw when he looked in the mirror.
But then,
A memory surfaced without warning.
A woman's gentle smile.
A child's laughter.
His chest tightened until it hurt to breathe like he come to understand something.
"I'm sorry…" Will whispered silently.
"I'm sorry I wasn't strong enough."
"I'm sorry I couldn't protect you."
His hands trembled.
"I'm sorry… I couldn't give you a happy life."
Rain poured harder, masking the tears that slipped from his eyes.
"So this is how it ends," he thought.
"I am going to die… without even taking revenge for you."
Will closed his eyes.
For a moment, everything went quiet.
But even then—he couldn't turn away.
"I should ignore him," his mind screamed.
"Just run away, think about your revenge."
Yet his heart refused.
"Don't run.
Face him.
Acknowledge him.
Confront his courage."
Will opened his eyes.
"I'm sorry…"
The words echoed inside Will's head as his eyes softened.
I really am sorry.
And then—something strange happened.
Warmth spread through his chest, gentle and familiar, like arms wrapping around him from behind. An embrace that didn't exist… yet felt more real than the rain soaking his clothes. For a heartbeat, the pain faded. The fear quieted.
So this is it…
A small smile tugged at his lips.
"Thank you… so much."
His fingers tightened around his sword—not in anger, not in hatred—but in acceptance.
Across from him, Rick stood trembling, breath tearing in and out of his lungs. Blood dripped from his body, his vision blurred, yet his eyes never left Will's.
They raised their swords.
Rain crashed down harder, drowning the world in white noise.
Both men inhaled deeply.
And then—
They dashed forward at the same time.
Steel screamed through the air.
Rick lifted his sword high, every muscle burning as he brought it down with everything he had left. Will's blade rose to meet it—too slow, too tired.
Just before the strike connected, a voice whispered inside Rick's mind.
"Only this time."
But Rick didn't paid any attention to voice in his head.
As his sword descended, mana wrapped around the blade creating Aura-Blade.
Will felt it instantly. A terror crawled up his spine.
And for the first time in a long while—Will felt fear.
He stepped back instinctively. Tried to guard. Tried to turn the blade aside.
But it was too late.
Rick's sword tore through him.
Steel cut through chest and stomach in one merciless arc, the impact hurling Will backward. His body slammed into the wall behind him with a sickening thud before collapsing to the ground.
Blood poured freely now, soaking his clothes, pooling beneath him.
Will stared upward, rain striking his face, his body refusing to move.
"So… this is how it ends."
His breath came shallow. Weak.
Pain spread—but it didn't matter anymore.
His thoughts drifted.
A woman's smile.
A child's laughter.
A life that could have been.
Rick stood there in silence.
He didn't move.
He didn't breathe.
The world fell silent—so silent that even the clash of steel from moments ago felt like it had never existed. Only the rain remained, falling endlessly, mercilessly.
Then Rick spoke.
"Why?"
His voice trembled—not with weakness, but with rage barely held together.
"Why the hell did you go easy on me?"
His eyes burned as he stared at Will's broken body.
"You're dying," he shouted, fists clenched. "You're a damn criminal! So why—why are you showing pity to me? What the hell is wrong with you?!"
The rain swallowed his words.
For a moment, there was nothing.
Then—
"I did no such thing."
Will's voice was faint. Fragile. Yet calm.
"If I had taken that strike seriously," he continued, coughing softly, "I would have died instantly… and cleanly."
His breath hitched.
"In the end… I only wanted one last thing."
His gaze shifted weakly, settling on the locket hanging on his neck.
"Saving at least one thing."
Rick said nothing.
He only stood there as rain poured over his face, mixing with something warm he refused to acknowledge.
Will exhaled shakily.
"You know," he said softly, "I gave everything to protect this nation."
His voice cracked—but he pushed on.
"And what did I get in return?"
He laughed weakly, bitter and hollow.
"A country that betrayed me.
A life filled with blood.
And peace… that only existed on paper."
He coughed—hard this time—blood staining his lips.
"Even after Grey became king," Will whispered, "even after things looked better… can we really call it peace?"
Rick's jaw tightened.
"There are still people dying every day," Will continued. "Children going hungry. Families being destroyed. People who can't even eat a full meal…"
His breathing grew shallow.
"So tell me, kid…"
A pause.
"Will we humans-no....., we living being ever be able achieve something called peace?"
Rick didn't answer.
He couldn't.
Will turned his head slightly, eyes dull but searching.
"Will there be a day," he whispered, "when every single person can smile… and live without fear?"
His voice faded into the rain.
"Can we… ever reach that kind of tomorrow?"
Rick remained silent.
In the end, Will's question was answered.
Not by words.
But by silence.
He lowered his gaze to the rain-soaked ground, a faint, tired smile touching his lips.
"So… that's your answer," he whispered.
Rick stood there, his fingers locked around the hilt of his bloodied sword. His head hung low, eyes fixed on the ground as if even looking at Will would shatter him. Words crowded his throat—thousands of them—but not a single one escaped.
Because deep down, Rick knew.
As long as humans existed…
True peace would never be more than a dream.
Strength alone could never save the world.
Power alone could never heal it.
If peace could be achieved simply by being the strongest, then this world would have found it long ago.
That thought echoed in Rick's mind as the rain fell endlessly around them.
Then—
"Hey… kid…"
Will's voice broke the silence, weaker now, fading with every breath.
"Can you… do one last thing for me?"
Rick looked up sharply.
"What is it?" he asked, his voice barely holding together.
"My daughter," Will continued softly. "She's staying with someone I trust. His name is John. He's the captain of the Royal Knights."
Will's trembling hand moved toward the locket around his neck.
"Please… give this to her."
His voice cracked.
"And tell her… tell her that her father is sorry."
Rick's grip tightened.
"Tell her I'm sorry I couldn't protect her.
Sorry I couldn't protect her mother.
Sorry...., that I gave her a life filled with pain."
His breathing grew shallow, his vision fading.
"Can you do it."
Rick didn't hesitate.
He stepped forward, fell to his knees in the rain, and gently caught Will's hand before it could fall. With shaking fingers, he took the locket and closed Will's palm around it one last time.
"I will," Rick said.
His voice broke.
"I promise."
Will's eyes slowly lifted, meeting Rick's.
A sense of warmth washed over him—like an embrace he hadn't felt in years.
"Then…" he whispered, a peaceful smile forming, "I can finally rest."
His hand slipped from Rick's grasp.
The rain kept falling.
Rick remained kneeling there, unmoving, staring at Will's lifeless eyes—eyes no longer filled with anger, doubt, or regret.
Only peace.
As soon as Will's life faded, the only sound that remained was the dull rhythm of rain striking the earth—drop after drop, endlessly. No cries. No screams. Just the rain.
There, beneath the darkened sky, lay the body of a former Grandmaster.
A man who once stood at the peak of power.
A man who carried the weight of the nation and failed beneath it.
And beside him…
A boy knelt in the mud, still holding his hand.
The battle was over.
No victor remained.
Only loss.
And like that—quietly, without triumph or celebration—the battle between Rick and Will finally came to an end.