The four words, “Dare you accept the challenge?” descended like a collapsing iceberg, unleashing an unprecedented maelstrom upon the placid, waveless sea. A profound silence fell over the spectators. The sudden announcement had shattered their composure, leaving their minds reeling. They simply could not fathom such audacity—that someone would dare challenge the master of the Death Arena, the very Crown Prince of the Eternal Night Empire… And that person was none other than Gugu You’er Guinevere, the Eastern champion who had just delivered a truly magnificent performance!
“Do you realize you’ve made the most foolish decision? After you die, she will die as well!”
An expressionless Galakriffin strode to stand opposite You’er, roughly ten meters separating them. His words, devoid of any emotion, sounded merely like a statement of undeniable fact.
“I know,” You’er replied. “But at least I will die before her. That way, I won’t have to grieve, won’t be driven mad by sorrow.”
You’er, meanwhile, cast his gaze towards the East District, a faint, incomprehensible smile gracing his lips. Although he could not see Noelle Noah, he knew with certainty that she was moving further and further away from this man-devouring abyss.
He had once sworn an oath: to live for her protection, and to fight for her defense!
And now, he was fulfilling that very vow.
“Enough talk, Galakriffin. Come, let me witness the true power of a Magus!”
“Blade Lunge!”
The instant the words left his lips, You’er unleashed Blade Lunge with the iron sword he wielded.
Lunge sword techniques were renowned as the bane of mages, capable of traversing long distances in the blink of an eye. True to its reputation, You’er had closed the distance to Galakriffin in a single, instantaneous leap.
Yet, Galakriffin’s expression betrayed an unimaginable ease. He made no superfluous movements as a seemingly sentient black mist coiled around his form, like a gaping maw, it consumed You’er’s iron sword and even his magic, leaving nothing behind.
“Soul Sword!”
After his iron sword was consumed, You’er, without a moment’s hesitation, summoned his Soul Sword and unleashed a shimmering barrier of azure light.
“Ice Jade!”
“A fine sword, and a potent martial technique!” Galakriffin remarked. “But alas, your own power is far too meager!”
Yet, Galakriffin merely raised his hand slowly, and darkness, like an encroaching abyss, descended. The Ice Jade light barrier shattered layer by layer, exposing even the Soul Sword itself.
The darkness spread towards You’er, truly transforming into a gaping maw lined with savage, jagged teeth, and snapped shut in an instant.
“Blade Lunge!”
“Draw Sword Technique: Frost Trace!”
You’er targeted an iron sword on the periphery, activating Blade Lunge. In the fleeting moment he turned, the iron sword at his waist was drawn, sketching a faint azure arc in the air. Yet, upon encountering the black mist surrounding Galakriffin, it vanished without a trace, as if swallowed by the deepest sea.
Galakriffin, standing before him, effortlessly shrugged off every attack You’er launched with his full might.
This was not a battle of equals. From the very outset, it was destined to be a complete and utter crushing by one side over the other!
“Alas…” Moses Du sighed. “Lord You’er shouldn’t have been so impulsive. Lord Galakriffin is a Dark Magus; he stands no chance of victory!”
Moses Du and Rigalantie Hogan had, at some unknown point, slipped into the West District’s preparation hall. They watched the unfolding spectacle in the arena with profound worry, a helpless sigh escaping Moses Du’s lips.
“Lord Moses Du,” Rigalantie Hogan urged. “While Lord You’er is buying us time, we should make our escape!”
Rigalantie Hogan glanced at Galakriffin in the arena before cautiously making his suggestion to Moses Du.
“It’s no use,” Moses Du replied, shaking his head bitterly. “Lord Galakriffin has placed a soul imprint on me; there’s no escaping it, no matter where I go. You should save yourself, flee as far as you can.”
Moses Du shook his head with a bitter expression as he answered Rigalantie Hogan. Had escape been an option, he would have seized it long ago; there would have been no need to wait until now.
“Is it truly amusing, bouncing around like a clown?”
You’er executed his lunge sword techniques with exceptional precision. His movements, more agile than a nimble monkey’s, kept him constantly darting along the arena’s edge, utilizing the scattered iron swords for swift, hit-and-run attacks. While these assaults naturally failed to inflict even the slightest harm upon Galakriffin, they proved immensely irritating. Unbeknownst to Galakriffin, You’er had already stalled for a good ten to twenty minutes.
He, a Magus capable of rivaling a Sword Sovereign, was being held at bay by a mere Great Swordsman for an extended period, and under the gaze of countless spectators no less. Such a spectacle would undoubtedly cost him immense face.
“Dark Demonic Moon!”
“Arrows of Pitch Black!”
“Spikes of Pitch Black!”
Finally, Galakriffin, no longer intending to hold back, resolved to end the battle. He unleashed three potent Dark-elemental spells in rapid succession. The first conjured a pitch-black full moon, which, as it ascended, seemed to devour all light within the arena, causing dark elements to surge with incredible activity.
The air within the arena grew impossibly heavy. You’er, caught in its oppressive grip, felt as though he were mired in a treacherous swamp, every movement becoming an arduous struggle.
The second spell, Arrows of Pitch Black, manifested its array in the sky, from which countless dark arrows erupted. They descended like an oppressive swarm of locusts, blackening the sky and locking onto You’er with unwavering precision.
Confronted by the overwhelming deluge of pitch-black arrows, You’er unleashed a surge of both his magic and soul power to resist the environmental pressure. Simultaneously, he executed a long-distance Blade Lunge, only barely managing to evade the onslaught.
Utterly exhausted from his efforts, You’er barely had a moment to catch his breath before Galakriffin’s third spell, Spikes of Pitch Black, descended upon him.
A colossal magic array materialized on the ground directly beneath You’er’s feet. From it, innumerable pitch-black spikes erupted, piercing his body clean through.
The two to three-meter long pitch-black spikes resembled an execution rack, impaling You’er’s body high above the ground. Blood gushed from the gaping wounds, a horrifying sight to behold.
“Do you see?” Galakriffin sneered. “This is the fate of all who defy me!”
“Annihilation Demonic Spear! Farewell, Gugu You’er!”
A demonic spear, several meters long and imbued with dark elements, hovered ominously above Galakriffin’s head. With a chilling finality, he then verbally pronounced You’er’s death sentence.
‘Is this truly the end?’
You’er felt his consciousness slowly fraying at the edges. He struggled with all his might to discern the massive demonic spear, which, piercing the heavens, hurtled down with terrifying might. His heart was filled with an unspeakable powerlessness and profound bitterness.
He had been but one step away from becoming a Sword Master; he had only needed a few more months to fully grasp that Soul Sword technique. Then, he could have taken Noelle Noah and fled far away, to live happily ever after by her side, forever entwined in bliss…
All these hopes and dreams, at this very moment, were destined to dissolve into dust and naught.
It wasn’t that You’er didn’t want to rise up against fate; on the contrary, he struggled and resisted with all his heart, every waking moment…
But his power remained so meager, so utterly helpless.
You’er painfully lowered his eyelids. The last image to surface in his mind was a beautiful, smiling face.
‘How will Noelle Noah live on without him?’
‘Will she return to those mountains, isolating herself from the world once more?’
‘Will she travel to Angus Village within the Eastern Azure Empire, to pay respects in his stead to the fallen villagers, to the deceased Marlene, to the lost Lilinai?’
‘Will she find another companion, a husband, who will cherish and adore her, and finally live a life of happiness?’
All these thoughts and wishes flashed through You’er’s mind in an instant.
And all these thoughts and wishes were, in the very next instant, cruelly shattered by harsh reality.
Noelle Noah, his beloved wife, that beautiful and resolute elven girl…
She unfurled a pair of exquisite, azure elven wings, and in the moment before the demonic spear descended, she placed herself in front of him…
She gazed at him, smiling contentedly, her eyes filled with such tender satisfaction…
“No!!!”
And You’er, upon whom her gaze rested, let out a cry of profound agony.
Her body shone with an overwhelmingly dazzling light as she leaped forward, rushing to meet the demonic spear head-on.
In that critical moment, she sacrificed herself, transforming into the most unyielding ice shield, blocking the descending demonic spear and overturning You’er’s predetermined death.