Arthur—the man fated to be king.
Born under the weight of destiny, he was raised within the cold, silent walls of the royal palace.
Surrounded by opulence but not warmth, he had no one to call a true friend.
Servants bowed, nobles schemed, and even the echoes in the hall seemed too afraid to speak to him.
His education was exceptional—private tutors summoned from across the kingdom, each a master in their craft.
He learned of swordplay, diplomacy, and history, but never how to laugh freely with another.
That changed when he entered Feohtere Academy.
For the first time, Arthur tasted the ordinary life of a student.
He met people who treated him not as a prince, but as an equal. He made friends—real ones. Or so he believed.
Yet, even within those shining days, darkness crept in.
Betrayed by the very friends he trusted, and even by the teachers who once guided him, Arthur found himself shattered.
But he didn't give up. With a heart stronger than most, he mended what was broken, healed what was lost.
One by one, he brought them back—changed, remorseful, better.
They began to call him "The Changer"—the boy who could turn even the most twisted hearts toward the light.
But even he had shadows he couldn't escape.
Ravenna.
In his first year, tragedy struck. His dearest friend—his light in that dark palace—was taken.
Kidnapped by a woman who thrived on agony, a sadist who found joy in others' screams.
Ravenna was no ordinary criminal. She was a monster dressed in elegance, and she chose Arthur's friend for one reason:
Because only he could survive her torture.
That memory never left Arthur. No matter how bright he smiles, a part of him remains frozen in that moment—haunted, hurting, waiting.
Waiting for the day he can save him.
"Arche! Are you okay?!" Arthur's voice rang out, raw with panic, as he burst into the room.
His eyes locked onto the boy tied to a post, bruised and barely conscious.
Across the room, a woman with long, dark hair turned slowly, her crimson lips curling into a sadistic smile.
"Oh? The savior's arrived, has he?" Ravenna cooed mockingly, tilting her head.
Arthur's fists clenched, his vision trembling with fury. His blood boiled.
"Damn you…" he growled, his voice low and venomous.
Without another word, he charged.
Their battle was swift and brutal. Ravenna was skilled, each of her strikes laced with cruelty, but Arthur's rage fueled him.
Steel clashed, spells sparked—but in the end, her movements grew sluggish, her breath uneven. She was running out of energy.
Backed into a corner, Ravenna laughed breathlessly, blood trailing from the edge of her lips.
"Why are you doing this?!" Arthur shouted, his sword leveled at her. "Why Arche?! Why hurt him?!"
Her crimson eyes narrowed, and she smiled—wistful, twisted.
"Because I like him," she whispered, voice shaky. "More than I should..."
Before he could move, she hurled a smoke bomb to the ground. A flash of light, a hiss of smoke—then she was gone.
"Tch!" Arthur cursed, waving the smoke away.
Wasting no time, he ran to Arche and knelt beside him, quickly untying the thick ropes that bound his wrists.
"Arthur?! Did you find Arche?!"
A familiar voice echoed from outside—Murphy, with urgency in his tone.
"Murphy! He's here!" Arthur called back.
"For real?! Hey! Everyone! Arche's safe! He's here!" Murphy shouted, and the sound of footsteps filled the hallway as the others rushed in.
One of them—a girl with purple hair and trembling hands—pushed through the crowd.
"Luna! Heal him! Now!" Arthur barked.
"U-Understood!" she stammered, immediately kneeling beside Arche and channeling her healing magic, a soft light glowing from her wand.
As Luna worked, Arthur looked down at his friend's pale face, his chest tightening.
He was supposed to protect him.
He failed.
And something inside him—something long kept buried—began to stir.
Arthur wasn't a vengeful person.
But this time…
He would make Ravenna pay.
Years passed.
Time eroded many things—memories, pain, even names. But not the bond of hatred between them.
"Ravenna!" Arthur's voice cut through the wind, stern and unwavering.
The woman across from him smiled, that same dangerous curve on her lips as if no time had passed at all.
"Arthur. So, we meet again. Our third time, isn't it?" Her dark purple eyes gleamed.
"I'm glad to see you."
Arthur narrowed his gaze, his tone cold but composed. "Yeah… me too. Because there's something I came to finish."
"Likewise." Ravenna's smile widened, her hand already dancing near her hidden blade.
"You've been nothing but a thorn in my side. Always one step behind, yet always ruining everything."
"And you..." Arthur reached up, pulling down the visor of his helm with a steely clink.
"You've never stopped torturing the peoples. Especially him."
Clad in full silver-blue armor, a long, windblown scarf draped from his shoulders, Arthur took a single step forward.
His right hand tightened around the hilt of his blade.
"Caelragon..." he whispered, his voice nearly lost in the wind. "Lend me your strength once more."
Ravenna raised an eyebrow, amused.
"Oh? You named your sword? That's cute." she teased, mocking laced in her tone.
But Arthur didn't flinch.
His hand slowly drew the sword from its sheath, revealing a radiant blade glowing faintly with an ethereal blue light—ancient runes pulsing along its edge.
"The noble sword of the old kingdom... shining like the purifying light of dawn," he murmured with reverence.
"Caelragon is no ordinary blade." His blue eyes hardened into steel.
"It was my father's sword... and now it's mine. A legacy I carry not for blood, but for justice."
The air shifted.
Caelragon, forged from rare dragon-tempered steel, shimmered under the twilight.
This sacred relic, birthed from the age of dragons, could only be wielded by a true leader—one who bore the weight of his people, of peace, and of balance with the natural world.
It was more than a weapon.
It was a crown forged in steel.
Ravenna's eyes narrowed as a brilliant light bloomed from Arthur's blade.
A silver sword, its surface polished to a near mirror sheen, glowed faintly under the crimson dusk.
Golden veins pulsed beneath the steel—like living light coursing through its core.
The hilt, wrapped in sacred dragon scales, shimmered with stardust, as if capturing constellations themselves.
Etched into the metal just above the guard was a symbol:
A winged dragon circling the sun.
A mark of kings.
Ravenna tilted her head, one corner of her mouth rising in amusement.
"That sword of yours… it's a bit unfair, don't you think?" she said, letting her own weapon unravel.
With a flick of her wrist, a curved dagger emerged—wicked and lean, the metal blackened and etched with old runes.
A long, enchanted chain unfurled from its hilt, clinking faintly as it wrapped around her arm like a viper.
Dark magic danced along its length, keeping it impossibly flexible… and nearly unbreakable.
Arthur said nothing at first, adjusting his stance as Caelragon hummed with restrained power.
Then, his voice came low and firm—no hesitation, no mercy. "I do have every intention of defeating you… as soon as possible."
His eyes burned through the visor.
"Because Arche is waiting for me."
The wind stirred between them.
And the fight began.
Ravenna darted through the battlefield, sprinting and leaping from one spot to another with impossible speed.
Arthur's eyes had to stay sharp, constantly scanning his surroundings to keep track of her.
Then, without warning, she was behind him.
Her dagger sliced through the air toward his back—but Arthur parried it just in time, steel clashing against steel with a sharp clang
He countered with a swift slash, but Ravenna evaded it with a graceful leap, flipping backward mid-air before hurling her dagger straight at him.
Arthur sidestepped the flying blade, retaliating with another strike.
Yet again, he missed.
Ravenna plant both feet against Arthur's chest in mid-air, launching him backward with a powerful kick.
Arthur tumbled back, barely deflecting the barrage of daggers that followed.
Each dagger was tethered to a chain, connected to Ravenna's grip—making them not just deadly, but unpredictable.
Even for someone like Arthur, dealing with them was no easy feat.
From above, Ravenna launched a strike—but Arthur caught it mid-air. "Nngh!" he grunted, holding firm.
Ravenna flipped high into the air and landed with blinding speed, her movements so swift they blurred, aiming to disorient Arthur.
The moment he sensed her presence behind him, Arthur swung his blade with force.
"Haah!"
But Ravenna was faster—she dodged the attack effortlessly and slammed a powerful kick into his chest.
The impact sent Arthur crashing through the wall, debris exploding around him as he was thrown into another room.
In the new space, their clash reignited.
Blades clashed in a whirlwind of strikes and parries—each move faster than the last.
Finally, Arthur landed a slash that grazed Ravenna's chest, drawing a shallow cut across her skin.
She leapt back, her breath steady but her body aching. Just for a moment, she paused—gathering herself—then shot forward again like lightning.
But now, every strike she unleashed was deflected by Arthur.
And every counterattack Arthur delivered? Dodged with perfect precision by Ravenna.
Ravenna surged toward Arthur like a bullet. The moment she got close, Arthur slammed the flat of his blade against her face—crack!—sending her flying backward like a ragdoll.
"Not bad," Ravenna muttered with a twisted smirk, wiping the blood from her lip.
She vanished in a blur, reappearing behind Arthur in a heartbeat.
As he turned, her boot connected with his chest—boom!—launching him straight through the wall and into the open air beyond.
Before he could recover, Ravenna grabbed the helmet of his heavy armor, fingers digging in like claws.
With a roar, she leapt into the sky, dragging him with her.
Then she slammed him into the ground like a hammer. The floor cracked beneath the force.
Blood seeped from beneath Arthur's helmet, dripping down his jaw. His vision blurred.
And she was already coming again—descending from above.
Gritting his teeth, Arthur forced himself up, lungs burning, and hurled his body into a desperate backward leap, barely avoiding the next strike.
Pain exploded through his limbs. He was running on fumes.
Gasping, he tore off his helmet and tossed it aside, finally able to breathe—blood-slicked, battered, and staring down a predator who wasn't finished yet.
In a flash, Ravenna was already behind Arthur.
She drove her foot into his back with stunning force—so powerful that even through his heavy armor, Arthur was launched into the air like a ragdoll.
But mid-air, Arthur didn't panic. With calm precision, he twisted and slashed downward.
His blade cut deep—Ravenna choked, blood bursting from her mouth as the strike landed.
She crashed into the ground below, hard, cracking the floor beneath her.
Arthur, meanwhile, landed smoothly, his boots glowing faintly as a teleportation gem shimmered beneath him.
Ravenna didn't stay down. Snarling, she shot forward like a beast unleashed.
Arthur stood his ground, eyes locked on his charging enemy.
Their weapons clashed—dagger against sword—metal screaming with each blow. Sparks flew. For a moment, neither gave an inch.
Then Arthur shoved forward with raw strength, his blade overpowering hers and sending Ravenna skidding backward across the floor.
Snarling, she hurled a dagger at him—a blur of silver death—but Arthur deflected it mid-flight with a swift, brutal parry.
Before he could breathe, she was already beside him, aiming a vicious strike at his exposed back.
But Arthur twisted just in time—steel met steel, and the impact shook the room.
Neither warrior held back. No mercy. No hesitation.
This time, Arthur was the one charging.
He wasn't as fast as Ravenna—but it didn't matter. He managed to seize her wrist mid-motion and, with a burst of strength, hurled her straight toward the window.
Crash!
Glass shattered as Ravenna was thrown through it. Arthur didn't hesitate—he leapt after her, following her down into the open night.
Both of them landed safely.
The reason? They each possessed the same item: a teleportation gem.
But there was no time to breathe.
Ravenna holstered her weapons and grabbed Arthur by the chestplate, dragging his body through the dirt like a sack of meat—then with a growl, launched him into the air.
And when he came down—
Boom!
She slammed him into the ground with bone-shaking force. Again. And again. Over and over, the ground cracked beneath the repeated impacts of his body.
But Arthur wasn't finished.
With his blade, he scraped the ground violently, kicking up a storm of dirt and debris into Ravenna's eyes, blinding her for just a second. That second was all he needed.
He lunged, targeting her arm with deadly intent.
Ravenna instinctively jumped back, narrowly avoiding the strike.
Arthur didn't waste the opportunity—he reached into his pouch, uncorked a vial, and downed a healing potion.
His wounds, torn and brutal moments ago, began to slowly close. Blood stopped. Pain faded.
The battle wasn't over.
Ravenna surged forward again, fast as ever. But this time—Arthur was ready.
He caught her arm mid-strike, stopping her cold. "Still unseasoned..." he muttered darkly.
Then he drove his fist upward with crushing force—crack!—straight into her chin.
The impact nearly launched her into the air, her body jerking back from the blow.
Arthur didn't wait. "I'll slash you off!" he roared, raising his sword high.
With all his strength, he brought the blade down.
Steel met flesh.
The sheer force of it echoed through the battlefield like a thunderclap.
"Caelragon!" Arthur bellowed, his war cry splitting the air.
Ravenna's body crashed to the ground, limp and broken. Blood marked her path. She didn't rise.
She didn't move.
Arthur exhaled slowly, sliding his sword back into its sheath with solemn precision.
"A knight's oath… can never be broken."
For a moment, there was only silence.
But the wind shifted.
And something—deep beneath that silence—still stirred.
Arthur froze.
A cold chill ran down his spine as he turned to leave—the kind that whispered warnings from the depths of instinct.
Something was wrong.
He stopped, hand trembling as it reached for his blade.
Shing!
The sword was drawn.
He spun around.
And what he saw twisted his breath into ice.
Ravenna was no longer human.
Her once-pale skin had turned a bruised, sickly violet. Her tattered clothes barely clung to her body, hanging in shreds over her chest and hips like the remains of a discarded soul.
Her eyes—They were glowing.
A deep, seething crimson, like burning coals dug from the pits of hell.
Her hair, once dark and wild, now cascaded down her back in a shimmering white cascade—unnatural, otherworldly.
And her teeth…
Arthur could see the fangs, long and razor-sharp.
Her claws had elongated into vicious black talons, twitching like they were hungry.
She looked feral.
Possessed.
Beautiful and terrifying all at once.
"So this is what it feels like…" she moaned, tilting her head back in twisted ecstasy.
"Aahhh~ like being whipped… over and over again…"
Arthur stepped back, his voice caught between rage and horror.
"Ravenna—what… what have you done to yourself?!"
She turned to him slowly, smiling a grin that dripped madness and delight.
"This…" she whispered, "is because…"
Her lips curled.
And then she spoke it.
"I sold my soul… to a demon."
The words struck harder than any blade.
Arthur's eyes widened in disbelief, his grip tightening around his hilt. "No… You didn't…"
"Oh, but I did," she purred, eyes gleaming. "I made a deal—if I die, I rise again. Stronger. Five times stronger…"
She raised her arm.
Dark mist coiled around her fingers, coalescing into cold, black metal.
A spear erupted from her palm, long, barbed, and cruel.
"And now," she said, voice dripping with sadistic joy, "I can summon any weapon I desire...to torture your kind."
She licked her lips, grinning like a devil clothed in flesh.
Arthur swallowed hard. This was no longer the battle he thought he'd won.
The two warriors launched themselves at each other, blades flashing as sword met spear in a clash of raw power.
Arthur parried the incoming spear, knocking it upward with a sharp twist of his sword, then drove forward with a powerful strike that sent Ravenna stumbling back.
Undeterred, Ravenna spun her spear with practiced ease and charged again.
She thrust toward him, but Arthur blocked it cleanly, steel ringing against steel.
Arthur countered with a strike to her head—missed. Ravenna ducked just in time, but he didn't let up.
Blow after blow rained down on her, leaving her no choice but to block and deflect, her arms straining under the pressure.
With a sudden leap, Ravenna put distance between them and hurled her spear straight at him.
Arthur raised his sword and stopped it mid-flight.
But what he didn't realize—Ravenna could control her weapon.
The spear jerked in midair, then lunged toward him again like a viper, aimed straight for his chest.
Arthur barely managed to tear it away from himself, struggling with gritted teeth as the enchanted weapon resisted.
With a final effort, he forced it free and leapt backward, landing hard and gasping for breath.
Ravenna dismissed her spear in a flash of light and summoned a massive battle axe in its place.
"Heh, if that gave you trouble," she taunted, resting the axe on her shoulder, "just wait until you face this!"
Arthur clenched his jaw and downed his last healing potion—he hadn't brought many.
Without hesitation, he charged forward. As Ravenna brought her axe down in a brutal arc, Arthur dodged back just in time and counterattacked—but she blocked it with ease.
Their weapons clashed once more, sparks flying. Ravenna swung hard, and though Arthur blocked it, the force of the blow sent him skidding backward.
He pushed forward again, slashing with swift precision, but Ravenna deflected every strike like it was nothing.
Then, with a growl, she slammed her axe into the ground. The shockwave cracked the earth, but Arthur leapt into the air, narrowly avoiding the quake.
He landed and glared at her, his breath ragged, eyes filled with frustration.
"Oh, I love that look," Ravenna said with a wicked grin.
But Arthur was already thinking.
His eyes flicked to the embedded axe blade in the ground—then he stepped onto it.
In a swift move, he tried to slash at her from above. But Ravenna was sharper than she looked.
She released her grip on the weapon and darted aside, slipping past his attack with a smirk.
Ravenna suddenly switched tactics, launching a flurry of punches and kicks.
Arthur stepped back, narrowly dodging each blow with tight, controlled movements.
Without warning, she snatched her axe off the ground and swung it at him.
Arthur raised his sword just in time, blocking the heavy strike—but the impact forced him back, feet sliding against the dirt as he struggled to hold his ground.
Then, with a sharp twist, Ravenna knocked him into the air.
Before he could recover, she leapt up and delivered a brutal kick, slamming him down into the earth below.
Arthur groaned, dust rising around him. But he wasn't done yet.
He pushed himself up, then launched into the air with a fierce cry, diving toward Ravenna with his blades aimed straight at her.
To his frustration, she blocked him again—calm, precise, untouchable.
He landed and jumped back, breathing heavily. "You're seriously the most annoying opponent I've ever faced… Ravenna," he muttered, pointing his blade straight at her.
Ravenna smirked. "Then come at me, Arthur."
She slammed her axe into the ground, sending up a thick cloud of dirt and debris.
The battlefield vanished in a storm of dust, vision obscured.
But Arthur didn't need to see.
He closed his eyes—and ran forward.
Through the chaos, he trusted his instincts… and they didn't fail him.
With a surge of power, his blade pierced through the veil of dust—and found its mark.
"Ugh…" Ravenna gasped, stumbling back, clutching her side as she leapt away.
Suddenly—without warning—chains lashed out and coiled tightly around Arthur's legs.
He froze in place, unable to move, his eyes darting downward in alarm.
The chains glowed faintly with magic... Ravenna's magic. Before he could react, the chains yanked him violently into the air.
His body spun helplessly, then crashed hard against a nearby tree with a sickening thud. Bark shattered. Wind knocked out of him.
Gritting his teeth, Arthur slashed the chains with his blade, shattering them in a burst of sparks.
With a roar, he charged forward, fury and desperation fueling his every step.
He gathered every last ounce of strength, raising his sword high. "Cael—!"
But his voice caught in his throat.
He couldn't move.
Dozens of chains burst from the ground, wrapping around his arms, his torso, his legs—binding him completely.
He was a prisoner mid-attack.
And then, like a puppet on strings, he was hurled into the sky once more—only to be slammed mercilessly into the earth.
The chains vanished. Silence fell.
Arthur groaned, trying to push himself up. His legs trembled violently beneath him.
He stabbed his sword into the ground, using it as support. But even then… he couldn't fully stand.
His knees buckled. His grip on the hilt was tight, almost trembling.
From a distance, Ravenna's voice rang out, cold and mocking.
"This is where your story ends, Arthur."
As Arthur knelt, barely able to hold himself upright, his vision blurred—not from pain, but from the weight pressing deep into his chest.
In that moment… time seemed to stop.
Fragments of his life began flashing before his eyes—flickers of laughter, tears, battles, and dreams.
And then… he heard the voice of Conrad, his most trusted advisor.
The old man's wisdom echoed through his mind—every warning, every encouragement, every lesson whispered as if Conrad were standing beside him again.
But the voice that followed struck deeper than any blade could.
His father's voice.
"Arthurius… I'm sorry I left you alone…"
Arthur's breath caught in his throat.
"Your mother… she died from the illness she carried since she was a child… and now, I too must leave you…"
The dying king's voice trembled with sorrow, as if reaching out from the grave.
"Arthurius… no—Arthur… there is someone I want you to find."
Arthur's eyes widened, frozen by the memory.
"The son of an old friend… I believe he will help you in more ways than you can imagine."
"Protect him… and I know he will protect you in return."
"I've never met him myself… but I know—he's stubborn. Just like his father. Once his mind is made up, no one can sway him."
"And he'll protect the ones he loves, fiercely. Just like his mother."
"I believe… he will guide you, walk beside you… and bring light when you are lost."
"Because his father… did the same for me."
There was a pause.
Then came the final whisper… so soft, so gentle, it shattered Arthur's heart.
"…I love you, Arthur."
The king's final breath echoed through the silence—leaving behind only a boy… a sword… and a grief too heavy for words.
Arthur's thoughts drifted again—this time, to the halls of the academy.
He had joined that academy with a dream burning quietly in his chest.
To become a king worthy of the throne… and to one day meet the person his father had spoken of before his final breath.
Conrad's informants had confirmed it: the boy mentioned by the late king would be attending that same academy.
Arthur remembered his first day vividly.
That's when he saw him—A boy with piercing emerald eyes.
He was the first person Arthur ever truly called a friend.
They were in the same class. Shared the same dorm room. Ate together, trained together, faced hardships side by side.
It felt… fated.
As if the stars themselves had woven their destinies together.
Arthur quickly rose to the top of the academy as a model student—diligent, kind, respected. He formed bonds with many, across classes and ranks.
And yet, deep down, he never stopped searching.
Who was the one his father had entrusted his future to?
He often thought he found them—only to realize he was wrong.
Until the second year.
That was when the truth struck him.
The boy with emerald eyes… The friend who stood beside him through thick and thin…
The one who listened, who lifted him when he faltered…
He was the one.
Arthur's heart should have rejoiced—should have felt relief, even joy.
But that was the moment everything shattered.
Because that same boy, that cherished friend…
Had turned on him.
Arthur remembered the sting of betrayal like a blade through the heart.
The cold words that followed—words that would scar deeper than any wound.
"I used them," the boy had said flatly. "All of them. You included."
A silence followed—heavy, suffocating, cruel.
And Arthur realized...
The one his father believed in... the one meant to guide him...
Had broken him instead.
But Arthur never gave up on him.
Because deep in his heart, he could feel it—the truth that the boy with emerald eyes truly cared.
Not just about him, but about everyone around them.
He was just too stubborn to show it.
And so, Arthur fought—not with his sword, but with his heart.
He tried again and again, risking everything, breaking through the walls that the other boy had built around himself.
He spoke the truth. He reminded him of every moment they'd shared.
He believed in him… even when no one else did.
And at last—Something changed.
In that quiet moment, as if the world had finally exhaled, Arthur looked at him and smiled.
"You're… my best friend, Arche," he said softly. "Thank you… for everything you've done. For being there, even when you didn't have to be."
The boy with emerald eyes froze, caught off guard.
After everything he'd done... after the lies, the betrayal, the anger—Arthur still called him his best friend.
A laugh escaped his lips—small, disbelieving. "Heh… you're the dumbest person I've ever met, Arthur."
And then… he smiled. A real smile. One Arthur had rarely—if ever—seen.
"Yeah… a dumb best friend," he muttered, clearly flustered.
His voice was quiet, unsure—like someone who didn't quite know how to accept love like that.
Because truthfully… he'd never had a best friend before.
Arthur laughed, bright and warm, before throwing his arms around him.
"Welcome back, Arche," he whispered.
"W-Why are you hugging me? This is embarrassing," Arche grumbled, stiffening in the hug.
Arthur just laughed harder. "You really are a tsundere, Arche."
"…Shut up."
And in that moment, surrounded by memories, scars, and healing hearts—
Their friendship shone brighter than ever before.
Throughout their years of friendship, there was one line—one powerful phrase—that had etched itself into Arthur's soul.
Words once spoken by the very friend who changed his life:
"Arthur… keep moving, until your body can no longer carry you."
And now, those words echoed like thunder in his mind.
Arthur, bruised and battered, rose once more—his body trembling, but his spirit unbroken.
With a sharp breath, he raised his sword, pointing the gleaming tip toward the enemy standing before him.
Ravenna.
The battlefield fell still for a heartbeat.
Ravenna's eyes narrowed, genuinely impressed. "Oh? You can still stand?"
Arthur didn't blink. His voice was low, but resolute.
"With the power of friendship… I will defeat you."
Ravenna scoffed, recoiling at the line. "Tch—'Power of friendship'? Seriously? Arche was right about you…"
"You're just like one of those over-the-top main characters in stories."
But Arthur only smiled—steadfast and true.
"Of course he was right…" His voice cracked slightly, not from weakness, but from conviction.
"…Because Arche is my best friend."
Then, planting his feet, he raised his sword high and roared:
"My name is Arthur—Knight of Justice!"
"And I swear by the name of my kingdom… I will defeat you!"
His voice cracked through the air like thunder, shaking the silence of the battlefield.
The fire of loyalty burning bright in his heart. "Now come at me, Ravenna!"
"Give me everything you've got!" And at that moment, nothing—not pain, not fear, not fate—could stop him now.
Arthur sprinted forward and leapt at Ravenna, his blade coming down in a vicious arc.
Without hesitation, he followed it up with a swift upward slash, then another downward strike, unrelenting.
He ended the flurry with a sharp horizontal cut, aiming to break through her guard.
Ravenna's eyes widened at the sudden ferocity. Before she could summon another weapon, Arthur was already launching another upward slash, spinning mid-air to deliver a crushing downward blow.
Gasping, Ravenna jumped back, narrowly avoiding the blade.
She drew her sword, her breath ragged, eyes burning with determination. "I'll defeat you... with a sword too!" she shouted.
They charged at each other, blades clashing with a thunderous ring.
Steel ground against steel as Ravenna launched a rising slash from below.
Arthur blocked it—barely—before the impact sent him skidding back.
But he landed on his feet and immediately dashed toward her again.
Their swords met once more in a storm of sparks. Ravenna tried to parry, but Arthur slipped past her guard, driving a hard punch into her stomach.
She stumbled back, wincing in pain.
They clashed again—a flurry of motion so fast, it blurred beyond the reach of ordinary eyes.
Steel screamed against steel. Sparks lit the night like fireflies born of war.
Arthur's armor was torn and battered, barely hanging onto his body.
Blood stained parts of his tunic, and shallow cuts decorated his skin—but his eyes still burned with unyielding resolve. His spirit refused to break.
Across from him, Ravenna narrowed her gaze, fury etched into her face.
With a sharp gesture, she summoned cursed chains—black, writhing things that lunged toward Arthur like vipers.
But Arthur was no longer a knight bound by rules. He was a storm.
With every step forward, his blades flashed—cutting, tearing, shattering every chain that dared block his path.
One chain shot out from behind, but Arthur twisted mid-air, avoiding it with inhuman precision.
Ravenna hissed in frustration, sending more chains like a net around him. But the moment she blinked—he was there.
Right in front of her.
Arthur's blade came up in a blazing arc. Ravenna barely raised her sword in time to block—but Arthur didn't stop.
He knocked her blade upward and, in the same breath, spun his sword in a fluid motion, faster than the eye could follow.
Then, with a roar that echoed like thunder across the battlefield—"Caelragon!"—he drove the sword straight into her chest.
Time froze.
Ravenna's eyes widened. A choking gasp escaped her lips, and blood spilled from her mouth.
Her strength, her power—even the demonic pact that had made her five times stronger—none of it had saved her.
She had never thought she could lose.
And yet, here she was, impaled by a single strike, undone not by power—but by heart.
Arthur stood still, his blade buried deep in her chest, holding it there for a long, agonizing momen—until finally, he pulled it free.
Ravenna collapsed to her knees, her lips trembling as if to say something—but the words never came. Her body fell to the ground, lifeless.
Silence returned to the field.
Arthur, bloodied and breathing heavily, gazed at her fallen form. Not with hatred —but with a quiet sorrow.
The kind reserved for those who had lost themselves chasing power.
He raised his blade and whispered to the wind, "It's over."
With a sharp, satisfying click, Arthur slid Caelragon back into its sheath.
"Revenge mission… complete." He declared with a dramatic flair—then immediately dropped to one knee, swaying slightly.
"Ugh… so tired…" The hero pose didn't last long.
A moment later, his eyes widened in panic. "Ah—Arche!" he gasped, forcing himself up again even as his legs protested.
"I still have to check on him…!"
And so began his glorious march through the front door.
It was… not glorious.
Each step was a slow limp, his hand gripping the wall like it was the only thing keeping him from melting into the floor.
His armor clanked pitifully with each wobbly shuffle. "Come on… Almost… there…" He whispered to no one.
Finally, his strength gave out.
He stumbled.
But before he could faceplant onto the ground, a pair of arms caught him.
"My dear Arthur! You're safe!" a cheerful voice cried out.
Arthur blinked, dazed, looking up at the girl holding him. "…Theresia?"
She nodded quickly, eyes wide with relief. "Cathy! Hurry! The medics are gone—you're the only one left!" she shouted behind her.
Moments later, Cathy came rushing in, holding out a small glass vial.
"Here! Healing potion!"
Theresia didn't hesitate—she uncorked it and gently poured it into Arthur's mouth.
The magic worked instantly. Strength surged through his limbs like warmth in winter.
Arthur stood up, blinking a few times as the ache faded. "Wow… That actually helped."
Then he smiled softly at the two girls. "Thank you… You're both safe. And not seriously hurt. That's all I could ask for."
"Yep! The medics patched us up earlier," Cathy said with a bright smile.
Theresia gave Arthur a light slap on the arm, grinning. "But next time, try not to collapse right at the door, okay?"
Arthur chuckled. "Alright."
As they made their way deeper into the palace halls, the atmosphere shifted.
The light that filtered through the windows felt colder. Heavier.
And then… they saw it.
The corridor was stained with still-fresh blood. Bodies of the medics lay motionless across the floor, their tools and healing supplies scattered like broken promises.
Arthur narrowed his eyes. "They were… slaughtered." His voice was low, almost a growl. "By the soldiers stationed here… huh?"
"W-What?!" Cathy gasped, taking a step back. "Then… that means… no one's treating the others?!"
Her eyes widened in terror. "Murphy…!"
Arthur reached out and gently placed a hand on her shoulder. "Don't worry, Cathy. Murphy's tough. He's not the type to go down easily."
Cathy bit her lip, trembling. "I know but…" She clenched her fists.
She turned sharply.
"I'm going. I'll find him myself!" And without another word, she sprinted down the corridor.
Arthur watched her go, his hand still half-raised. He sighed, a tired smile tugging at his lips.
"She's braver than she gives herself credit for."
He took one step forward—and nearly collapsed. "Ugh… right."
Leaning against the nearest wall, he let himself breathe for a moment.
The adrenaline was fading fast, and exhaustion was starting to wrap around his limbs like chains.
"Come on, Arthur… Arche's still waiting for you… Just a little more."
His words were meant to be encouragement—but even they sounded sleepy.
And yet, even while his body protested, his heart kept him standing.
With his body finally giving in, Arthur sat down against the wall, grounding his tired limbs.
Theresia plopped down beside him with a soft sigh.
"How come they didn't grab any of the healing potions from the medics they slaughtered?" she wondered aloud, eyes lingering on the untouched vials scattered around.
Arthur shook his head slowly. "Beats me… I'm not as smart as Arche," he said with a weak smile. "But I don't think they needed it."
He rested his arms on his knees, staring ahead. "Maybe because the soilders are just… a pawns. Controlled by someone. Disposable." His voice quieted.
"If they die, it doesn't matter. That kind of cruelty... I can't wrap my head around it."
A sudden throb hit his temple. He groaned and rubbed his head. "Ugh… I can't even think properly right now…"
"Then stop thinking, dummy," Theresia chirped, leaning toward him.
"Rest, Arthur! And if your head's spinning, you can always lean on my shoulder, my handsome king!" She grinned, patting her own shoulder like she was offering him VIP seating.
Arthur gave a tired chuckle.
"Oh, or wait!" she said dramatically, shifting to pat her lap with both hands.
"If you want something extra soft, I'm offering a lap pillow special—limited time only!"
Arthur blinked at her, "I'm fine."
"You're no fun when you're tired," Theresia pouted, puffing her cheeks.
He leaned back anyway, letting his head rest lightly against the wall.
After a long silence, Arthur let out a dramatic sigh, slumping further against the wall.
"Sorry, Theresia. I like another woman."
"WHAA—?!" Theresia jolted upright like someone had slapped her with a fish.
"Why would you drop that emotional bomb out of nowhere?! My heart! My pure maiden heart!"
Arthur winced. "I didn't mean to hurt you, I just—"
Before he could finish, her finger shot up like a sword and poked his lips.
"Nope! Shut that mouth! Don't say another word if you value my emotional stability!"
He blinked, eyes wide, then slowly nodded like a hostage agreeing to terms.
Satisfied, Theresia plopped her head onto his shoulder with a huff.
"You're lucky you're handsome…" she grumbled.
Arthur didn't protest—partly because he was too tired, partly because he knew any wrong move might cost him another rib.
"You know… I kinda see you like a little sister," he mumbled, voice already half-asleep. "I mean, we both have blond—"
WHAM!
"I SAID SHUT UP!!" Theresia's fist jabbed into his stomach like a meteor strike.
Arthur curled forward with a wheeze, questioning all his life choices.
"Ow—! Why does every girl I know resort to violence?"
"Because every guy I know says dumb stuff at the worst time!" she snapped, arms crossed and cheeks puffed like an angry squirrel.
And so, under the dim light of the ruined corridor, the brave knight and the violently blonde rested side by side—one clutching his stomach, the other pouting like she didn't just commit a minor assault.
Peaceful, in their own weird way.