My eyes widened, the grip on my sword tightening as the weight of the situation pressed down on me. The sword, which had once felt like an extension of myself, now felt heavier—almost as if it knew the danger we were in.
'I wasn't ready for this.'
The sting of betrayal cut deeper than any physical wound. But worse than the betrayal was the sinking realization that I had been unprepared for this fight. This wasn't supposed to happen. Not yet.
Drake Namgung wasn't meant to fall to demonic temptation until after Ren defeated him in the Murim tournament. He was supposed to serve as a foil for third-year Lucifer. And yet, here he was, corrupted far too early—and worse, he'd dragged Luke down with him.
I forced myself to think, to coldly analyze the situation.
There were two possibilities. Either a high-ranked demon of envy had been responsible for corrupting both Drake and Luke, or several demons had worked together to bring them down. Either way, this wasn't something we were equipped to handle alone.
But I couldn't focus on the demons or Drake for now. The immediate threat was Luke—he stood directly in front of me, his eyes dark with hatred and betrayal.
His face, once familiar, was now twisted with malice, his lips curling into a sneer. I could feel the raw, burning envy emanating from him, a venomous force that made the air heavy.
Luke had reached White-rank, just like me. But that wasn't what made him dangerous now. It was the black mana swirling around him, dark and corrupted. Demonic power was mixed with his own, amplifying his strength, warping his mind.
I watched as he raised his sword, a black wind encircling the blade before he swung it, launching a dark wave of energy straight toward me.
Instinct kicked in.
I raised my sword, the familiar hum of my mana surging to the surface as I activated Lucent Harmony. Light and mana gathered around me in a protective shield, just in time to meet the black wind head-on.
The clash was brutal.
The force of his attack was far stronger than I had expected, and I gritted my teeth as the dark energy slammed into my shield. My feet slid back from the impact, my boots digging into the ground, but I held firm.
Barely.
The black wind dissipated, and I exhaled, feeling the tension in my muscles ease for just a moment.
This wasn't the Luke I knew. The Luke who had been my friend—someone who had fought alongside me, not against me.
But that Luke was gone now, consumed by the demonic power coursing through him.
And I was the only one standing between him and whatever destruction that power would bring.
"Luke," I said, my voice firm. "I don't want to fight you."
His eyes narrowed, the hatred in them only growing darker. "You don't have a choice, Arthur."
And with that, he lunged at me, sword raised high.
I braced myself, tightening my grip around the hilt of my sword. There was no avoiding this. Not anymore.
Luke Orden, the second son of the Orden family, wasn't known for having a Gift or mastery over spellcasting. But what he lacked in magic, he more than made up for in raw physical power and swordsmanship.
He was wielding the Grade 5 art of his family—Titan's Fury—and each swing of his blade embodied the sheer dominance behind that technique. Every strike was meant to overwhelm, to crush, to batter the enemy into submission. And now, combined with the black mana that coursed through him, his attacks had become something monstrous. Each swing carried not just force but a suffocating pressure, as if the very air bent beneath the weight of his blade.
It wasn't just brute strength—Luke manipulated his mana and black mana with impressive control, enough to make his output rival that of someone who had reached the first stage of the integration process. He had become a force of nature, his every movement calculated to overpower and destroy.
But I wouldn't lose. Not to him. Not today.
His eyes were filled with hatred as he advanced, his sword crackling with dark energy as it cut through the air. There was no time to cast spells or make distance. This battle would be decided by swordsmanship alone.
I activated Seraphim's Embrace, feeling a rush of clarity as my vision sharpened and my reaction speed heightened. My ocular abilities allowed me to predict his movements, to see the trajectory of his strikes with terrifying precision.
Luke's blade came crashing down, but I stepped into his range, parrying the blow just in time. The force behind it sent a shockwave through my arms, but I held firm. Sparks flew as our swords clashed, the sound of metal on metal echoing in the space around us.
He swung again, faster this time, a wide arc that sought to cleave through me. But I twisted my body, stepping to the side and bringing my sword up to block. The impact reverberated through my bones, but I absorbed it, letting the force slide past me.
Luke grunted, his eyes narrowing as he realized I wasn't backing down. The black mana around him surged, intensifying the weight behind his strikes. But I wasn't the same person he'd fought before.
I countered with a swift slash, aiming for his side. He barely managed to deflect it, the shock evident in his expression. I could see it now—the frustration, the disbelief. He was realizing that sheer power wouldn't be enough to bring me down.
"You've grown stronger," he muttered, his voice laced with venom. But there was no admiration in his words, only resentment.
"You're not the only one pushing past your limits," I said, my voice calm despite the chaos swirling around us.
Our swords clashed again in a dizzying flurry of strikes, each blow heavier than the last. Luke's attacks came in relentless waves, his blade glowing with the ominous black mana he now wielded. But with Seraphim's Embrace heightening my senses, I could see his movements more clearly, reading the intent behind each swing, dodging and countering with precision.
Still, the pressure was intense. The hatred in his eyes, the darkness swirling around him—it was far more dangerous than just his swordsmanship.
I spared a glance to my side, catching a glimpse of the girls scrambling to try to help me. But before they could intervene, Drake stepped forward, blocking their path. A cruel grin spread across his face.
"Now, now, ladies," he said, his voice almost a purr, "how about we let Arthur and Luke have their fun while I keep you company?" Purple lightning crackled around him, coiling ominously as he whistled nonchalantly.
"You dare focus somewhere else?" Luke's voice snarled through gritted teeth.
Without warning, he launched himself at me again, his blade coming down in a fierce arc. This time, his strike wasn't about raw power but speed, a clean cut aimed to end the fight swiftly.
Too fast. I could feel the wind pressure at my feet shift from the force of his strike.
But I had time magic.
I activated it instantly, increasing my speed as I pushed off the ground, narrowly dodging the deadly blow. Just as I regained my footing, Luke's blade stopped mid-swing and reversed direction in a blur, coming up from below with barely any loss of momentum.
My heart skipped a beat. 'How?!'
Reacting on pure instinct, I warped the space around me, teleporting out of range just before the blade could connect. I reappeared a few feet away, hand gripping my sword tightly as I touched my neck.
Cold sweat trickled down my spine. 'That was close. Too close.'
'Thanks, Luna,' I sent a mental note of gratitude to her, feeling the comforting presence of Lucent Harmony still coursing through my veins.
'Keep your focus,' Luna's voice replied. 'He's not going to give you another chance.'
His eyes locked onto mine, and in them, I saw nothing but hatred.
I couldn't hesitate any longer.
"Come on then," I said, raising my sword, my voice steady even though my heart was racing. "Let's finish this."