The underground arena fell into complete silence.
Not a whisper.
Not a cheer.
Not even the gamblers dared to speak.
All eyes were fixed upon the two figures standing amidst the shattered battlefield.
The Crimson King stood firm, his sword lowered but ready, his breathing calm despite the intensity of the duel.
Several meters away, Black Raven struggled to remain upright.
Her cloak had been reduced to torn strips of black cloth.
Dust and blood stained her clothes.
Cuts marked her arms and shoulders.
One side of her face beneath the mask bore a crimson trail where blood had trickled down from a shallow wound.
Her breathing was heavy.
Every heartbeat sent pain through her battered body.
Yet...
She still stood.
The Crimson King regarded her with quiet respect.
"You've reached your limit."
Luna tightened her grip on her sword.
"...Not yet."
"You've already surpassed everyone's expectations."
"I'm not fighting for their expectations."
"Then why?"
