"Do you really think... you still have the right to lift your head and face the faith you once swore to uphold?" Kizmel's voice sank low, every word like a cold blade, driving deep into his mind.
The world seemed frozen. Even the wind fell silent, leaving only the echo of her voice lingering in the hollow of the shattered battlefield.
"Elven warriors fell to protect you... the blood of your ancestors lies buried in the frozen earth... How will you answer them? Or do you plan to keep running forever? Don't you feel... even a shred of shame?"
Her eyes glimmered like twin swords under the twilight, piercing through him without hesitation. Her shoulders trembled, not from fear, but from something far heavier.
"Because of scum like you..." Her voice cracked, a smoldering flame trapped within stone, "... my sister... and her husband... had to die."
The Dark Elf's fingers clenched the hilt so tightly her knuckles turned bone-white, teeth grinding in a harsh, grating rhythm. The blade rose slowly, its steel reflecting a merciless light.
Falconer lowered his head, his body shivering uncontrollably.
And then, in a moment that felt as though fate had been sealed, Kizmel lowered the blade. The whisper of steel meeting air fell into the crushing silence.
"I understand now..." Her eyes closed for a breath, then opened again, colder than frost. "A knight of Lyusula does not take a head simply to sate her rage."
She stepped forward, her voice a chilling verdict.
"Killing you would stain my sword. Crawl away... live out your days like the filthy rat you are. And let disgrace gnaw at your soul until the day you die."
With that, she turned, her cloak snapping in the wind. The sword slid back into its sheath, leaving behind nothing but silence... and a traitor kneeling in the shadow of his sins.
But then, in that stillness, a sudden twitch from the blood-soaked grass pulled the air taut like a drawn bowstring. Falconer.
He lunged from the ground like a beast that had slipped death's jaws, his body trembling with the only thing left in him: hatred.
His one remaining arm clutched a sacrificial dagger, its edge glinting with a final curse bestowed by fate.
His eyes burned with madness, twisted by the ecstasy of dragging his enemy into the abyss with him.
He charged, a broken body hurtling toward Kizmel's unguarded back. His speed no longer belonged to a dying man but to a rabid beast emptying its last breath into one final strike.
The distance shrank, his ragged breath mingling with the thick stench of blood.
In his pupils, reflecting her slender back, Falconer saw triumph saw the sweet taste of vengeance, just one strike away.
But did Kizmel know?
She knew. She had sensed it from the twitch in his frame, from the faint hiss of steel cutting air.
Yet Kizmel stood still, her long violet hair swaying faintly in the breeze, as though everything moved too slowly for the calm beat of her heart.
She didn't turn. Her voice dropped, sharp as a blade:
"Yes... filth like you... is fit only to be fed to dogs."
The moment the words left her lips, a shadow split the air like a lightning bolt.
A deep, guttural snarl thundered forth, a sound heavy enough to crush bone. The Direwolf Envoy.
The massive wolf burst from the mist, its midnight-black fur bristling like steel spikes, its amber eyes burning crimson like sparks from hell. Fangs white as ivory sank into Falconer's throat in a single, ruthless motion.
The crack of snapping bone melded with his strangled scream, both drowned in the savage power of the predator.
Blood or rather, crimson shards of pixelated light, splattered like rain.
Falconer froze, eyes wide with disbelief, as though time itself had halted.
Even then, he longed to scream, to curse, but all that escaped was a broken gasp torn into nothingness.
His body convulsed one last time... then shattered into fragments, vanishing beneath the beast's furious jaws.
The wolf roared again, its howl echoing through the forest like the final verdict upon a traitor.
Kizmel did not turn. Her back remained straight as a blade, her voice cold as death itself:
"Never forget that... even beyond the grave."
She walked toward the players, her face still etched with tension from the battle, though her gaze had softened, as if a weight long carried had finally slipped away.
Without a word, she knelt before Asuna, her shoulders trembling, then suddenly pulled the chestnut-haired girl into a tight embrace.
Her voice quivered, a breath laced with exhaustion:
"It's over... Tinel... little sister... now you can finally rest."
Asuna froze, eyes wide at the sudden closeness. But slowly, her arms rose, closing around Kizmel in silent reply.
Two figures one Dark Elf, one human stood motionless beneath the night steeped in fire and wind, like two souls finding solace in shared tragedy.
Tiny sparks drifted through the air, glimmering in the tears clinging to Kizmel's lashes.
Ren let out a faint, relieved smile. It was finally over... This battle, this hatred... everything had come to an end.
He gazed at the two figures embracing each other, a distant, indescribable feeling stirring in his heart. Why do we fight? For what? For whom? In the end... maybe only emotions like this remain pure in this world.
Far away, Ago frowned at the prolonged silence. She tugged on Kirito's sleeve, lowering her voice but still loud enough for Ren and a few others to hear:
"I know it's over, but... can you tell me what happened before? What made her so emotional like that?"
Kirito crossed his arms, his eyes still following Kizmel and Asuna, exhaling softly as if he had already prepared the answer:
"It's a long story... but to sum it up, she just avenged her sister's death."
"Her sister..." Ago blinked, brows furrowed in curiosity, "She must've been... pretty cute, huh?"
Kirito gave a slight shrug, his tone calm, unwilling to go any deeper:
"No, actually I don't really know. She was already dead before this quest even began."
He paused for a moment, his eyes glinting with a trace of thought as he looked toward the two girls still silently holding each other amidst the glowing embers.
"But... somehow..." Kirito murmured, his voice almost too low to hear, "She looked a lot like Asuna."
Ren heard that, glanced up, but said nothing.
Only the sound of wind whistling through the scorched branches and the faint glimmer of system particles blinking in the air remained, witnesses to a tragedy now closed... yet leaving an unerasable mark in everyone's heart.
A gentle night breeze swept by, carrying the last ashes from the Forest Elf camp.
Through the hazy gray, a slender figure appeared, so fragile it seemed a stronger wind could scatter her into nothingness. She stood right beside Kizmel, lips curved in a serene, elegant smile, as if hatred had never touched her soul.
Kirito blinked hard, his heart skipping a beat. 'Huh... did I imagine that?' But when he looked again, there was nothing...only empty air.
His eyes flicked to Ren and froze. Ren stood there, unusually silent, his lips moving as if whispering something, too faint for anyone to hear.
'Just an illusion... right?' Kirito told himself, but the chill crawling down his spine refused to let go.
Ren lowered his eyes, exhaling a breath that melted into the night wind. "Looks like... I've seen a ghost again..." he murmured, his voice dissolving into the darkness, "...twice in one day."
"Ah, our knight is back!" Ago cheered, her eyes lighting up as the figures of Asuna and Kizmel appeared from the corridor.
Their armor bore countless scratches, yet the dignity they carried after the battle made the entire room seem brighter.
"Let's do it!" A player jumped up, his face lighting up with an idea.
"You guys really gonna do that?" Kirito raised a brow, his voice tinged with helplessness.
"Ahahaha, why not?" Ago burst into laughter, her voice echoing across the empty camp. Then she turned to Ren, as if pulling him in, "Right, Ren?"
Ren merely shrugged, the corner of his lips twitching upward. Part of him found it ridiculous...but another part... felt something he couldn't name.
"Alright! Line up!" someone shouted, and the group immediately raised their swords overhead, forming two rows side by side.
Blades clashed with a metallic ring, torchlight dancing on steel, creating a shimmering silver arch.
Asuna froze for a brief second, her eyes widening in surprise. Kizmel also paused, then let out a soft laugh, a laugh tinged with helplessness: "Human rituals... how strange."
Ren stood at the end of the line, his eyes gazing upward at the arch of steel reflecting the flickering firelight from the camp.
The clinking of blades rang like tiny bells, forming a spontaneous arch of ceremony.
Childish? Maybe. But... in that moment, something familiar crept into his breath.
Like a distant memory awakened, the time when someone was still there, laughing with him, calling his name amidst the noise of the crowd.
Those days had long been buried, yet this awkward little ritual was enough to make his chest ache.
Ren tightened his grip on his sword's hilt. A fleeting silence slipped in, mingling with the cheers ahead like a paradox.
But... why did the emptiness in his heart still swell?
He gave his head a slight shake, forcing himself out of the thought.
Tonight, everything was over. Kizmel's vengeance, the Dark Elf knight's quest, had been fulfilled.
The two guilds that once clashed finally lowered their arms, giving up the quest. No more bloodshed, no lingering grudges.
At least... everything settled into a fragile peace, like the campfire flickering in the night wind.
(Note: We're almost done with the third floor. I'll be taking a few days off to work on the main content for the fourth floor. Thank you all for sticking with me.)