The arena was still dripping with the stench of blood, the screams of the dying fading into silence. Dozens of corpses lay strewn across the sand, and in the middle of it stood Michi, chest heaving, his body drenched crimson. His shadow spear pulsed like a living creature, whispering into the still night.
Michi tilted his head upward, his hollow white eyes locking on Khalab. Slowly, he began to walk forward, step by step, toward the trembling figure on the high platform.
Khalab gripped the railing, his knuckles turning pale. For the first time, the self-proclaimed ruler felt the icy grip of fear clutch at his heart. Sweat poured down his forehead as he muttered, "Impossible… that beast cannot be controlled…"
Michi's grin widened. His footsteps echoed against the blood-soaked ground. Every step closer felt like the heartbeat of death itself.
Then, with an inhuman lunge, Michi raised his spear and hurled himself toward Khalab. The weapon's tip gleamed, thirsting for blood. Khalab's eyes widened—his end seemed inevitable.
But a voice cut through the chaos.
"Enough. My queen orders me to keep him alive."
A black blur shot into the arena. Jaxor reappeared, his cloak whipping like shadows torn from the void. In his hand was a massive black sword, its edge shimmering with cursed energy.
Michi's spear clashed with Jaxor's blade midair, the collision sending a shockwave that cracked the stone beneath them. Sparks of black and crimson energy erupted, lighting the arena in a blinding flash.
Michi growled, his white eyes burning with madness. Jaxor smirked. "Good. Show me the strength of despair."
Their weapons clashed again. Spear against sword, the air itself quaked with every strike. Michi's thrusts were brutal and feral, aiming to tear Jaxor apart. Jaxor's counters were sharp, precise, each swing carrying deadly grace. Blood sprayed as Michi's spear grazed Jaxor's arm, but in return, Jaxor's blade sliced across Michi's ribs. Neither flinched, their laughter and snarls mixing with the clash of steel.
High above, Khalab stumbled backward. He pulled a silver locket from his chest, clutching it tightly as he activated its glowing sigil. His voice shook as he spoke into it, "They're here… I need immediate reinforcement…!" His hands trembled, eyes darting between the fight below and the exit he longed to flee through.
But down in the dirt, the true battle raged.
Inside Michi's mind, a voice echoed.
Michi… this isn't you.
His breath came ragged as he swung the spear wildly, clashing with Jaxor's black sword. No… no, it's not like me, he thought desperately. I can't control this…
A darker voice answered, dripping with malice.
Control? There is no need for control. You are perfect like this… drenched in despair, a beast no one can stop.
Michi's spear spun, deflecting Jaxor's crushing strike, sparks bursting as the weapons locked. His face contorted with strain.
"Stop… stop it…" he muttered through clenched teeth.
The bloody version of himself appeared within his mind's eye, grinning with jagged teeth. You want to end me? You cannot. You want your old self? Then earn it.
The figure leaned closer, whispering like venom. For now, I will slumber. The spear will vanish… but remember this: I am waiting for you, in Mélovetsia. Come there, pass my trial… and only then will you truly control despair.
The voice faded, dissolving into the shadows of his mind.
Reality crashed back in. Michi's spear flickered, then shattered into dust. His white, hollow eyes softened, returning to his natural, stormy gaze. The black aura that had cloaked his body dissipated like smoke in the wind. He fell to his knees for a breath, gripping his chest, blood dripping from reopened wounds.
Jaxor paused, his blade resting casually against his shoulder. A smirk curved across his lips. "Oh? The beast is tamed now… how disappointing."
Michi exhaled sharply, forcing himself to his feet. His trembling hand reached to his side, where his true sword lay hidden beneath the ruin of the arena. He gripped it, drawing the familiar blade with a slow hiss of steel.
The weight felt real. Solid. His.
He raised it, his gaze fixed on Jaxor. His chest still heaved, but his expression was no longer madness—it was determination.
"Then you'll fight me for who I really am," Michi said, his voice low but steady.
Jaxor chuckled, raising his sword once more. "So you've crawled back into your human skin. Let's see how long it lasts before despair devours you again."
Their blades met with a deafening clang. Sparks showered across the battlefield as sword met sword. Jaxor's strikes were relentless, each one a test of Michi's regained clarity. Michi countered with fluid determination, parrying, slashing, and twisting his body with renewed strength.
Jaxor slashed down, Michi sidestepped, then drove his sword upward, leaving a crimson line across Jaxor's chest. Jaxor grinned through the pain, swinging his massive blade sideways with crushing force. Michi blocked, but the sheer weight sent him skidding across the blood-soaked ground.
They clashed again and again, blood painting both warriors. Michi's arm dripped from a deep cut, while Jaxor's cheek bore a long, bleeding gash. The sound of metal against metal echoed through the empty, corpse-littered arena.
Khalab, seeing the duel escalating, clutched his locket tighter and began retreating toward the shadows. His fear only deepened as he watched Michi stand tall, no longer a beast, but a fighter with iron resolve.
Michi wiped blood from his mouth, staring coldly at Jaxor. "Beast or not… I'll fight with my own strength."
Jaxor's grin widened, his eyes glowing faintly. "Good. That will make it all the more fun when despair rips it away again."
And with that, the bloody clash continued—sword against sword, strength against strength, neither yielding, the arena trembling beneath the storm of their battle.