Dikargo's eyes narrowed.
What is this? Earlier when our blades crossed, the force wasn't anywhere near this level. How…?
His thoughts raced as he parried strike after strike. Each swing from Rikel's sword carried a weight that shouldn't belong to a mere human—certainly not one at the Fourth Severance. Dikargo, one of the Seventeen High Demons, wielded peak Fifth Severance strength and his innate bloodline ability, yet even so… he could not force Rikel back.
Sparks crackled in the air as Dikargo muttered:
"Thunder Sword—Fifth Form: Thunderbolt!"
A spear of lightning burst forth from his blade, bright enough to rival nature's own fury.
Rikel's grip tightened. He slashed his sword through the air, and an icy barrier erupted before him.
"Eternal Sword—Eighth Form: Ice Wall!"
The thunderbolt crashed into the wall with a deafening roar, shattering it and hurling Rikel backward. But this time, he didn't tumble helplessly across the ground—his sword carved a deep groove into the earth, anchoring him until he slid to a stop.
Breathing heavy, he pulled the blade free and grinned.
"Hah… now this is exciting."
He raised his sword skyward.
"Eternal Sword—Thirteenth Form: Frost Blades!"
The air froze. Hundreds of crystalline blades materialized, glimmering with deadly frost. With a single motion, Rikel sent them raining down in a storm of steel and ice.
Crash! Crash! Crash!
Dikargo deflected them with blistering speed, each movement precise, yet not flawless. Several blades slipped through, grazing his cheek, his arm, his abdomen. His crimson robe tore open in streaks.
Drip. Drip.
Rikel's sneer widened as he spotted the scarlet drops staining the ground.
"So… you bleed just like a human, huh?"
Dikargo's lips curled into something between a grin and a snarl.
"Hmm… I have to admit, you're the first human to ever pique my interest this much. But now that you've pushed me this far…" His voice deepened, vibrating with power. "…I can't hold back anymore."
As he spoke, the wounds across his body sealed at an unnatural pace, crimson skin knitting back together in the blink of an eye.
Rikel's eyes shone with feverish excitement. "Bring it on."
"Very well…" Dikargo lifted his blade skyward, sparks dancing wildly across its length. "Lightning Sword—Twelfth Form: Endless Lightning!"
He swung downward, and at the tip of his sword a roiling orb of lightning condensed—its glow blinding, its crackle deafening. With a thunderous roar, it descended toward Rikel like judgment itself.
Rikel muttered under his breath, eyes narrowing as frost gathered around him. "This might be… difficult."
He lifted his sword.
"Eternal Sword—Fifteenth Form: Snowflower."
Snowflakes spiraled into existence, whirling in a violent storm before converging on his blade. With a powerful swing, he released the gathered force.
CLANG!
The two powers collided. A blinding explosion ripped through the battlefield, shockwaves splitting stone and tearing the earth apart. Smoke and dust billowed high, shrouding the two warriors in a veil of destruction.
For a few long, suffocating moments, nothing could be seen.
Then, as the haze slowly cleared—Dikargo emerged, standing firm though forced several steps back, his robe still fluttering with residual sparks.
Rikel, however, was on one knee, his sword buried in the ground for support. His chest heaved, and he coughed violently—spattering black, deadened blood onto the soil.
Dikargo's gaze sharpened as he noticed something strange.
"…Your skin… it's melting." His breath hitched, realization dawning. "You're… using your life force?"
The demon's eyes widened in genuine shock. "So that's it. You're burning your own life force at an impossible rate—forcing your body to rival mine. That's how you've reached this level."
Rikel said nothing. His shoulders trembled, his breath ragged, but he refused to collapse. Using his sword as a crutch, he struggled to keep his body upright, eyes locked on Dikargo.
"I see…" Dikargo's voice was low, but there was something akin to respect in it. "No wonder you can fight me head-on. But this… this is where it ends. Even if by some miracle you defeat me, you won't live long enough to see the next five minutes."
Rikel clicked his tongue, then raised his chin proudly. "Tch… so what? If I die, I die. What matters is that I avenge my comrades… those who perished at your hands today."
His gaze swept across the battlefield. Corpses littered the ground—men and women who hadn't even been given a chance to resist, their lives snuffed out by the storm unleashed between the two. His grip tightened. His voice burned.
"I'll fight for them… even if it costs me everything."
Dikargo fell silent. For a brief moment, his blood-red eyes glinted with something other than malice. Admiration.
"How admirable," he murmured. "Very well, Rikel Kael, son of Richeal Kael. I am honored to cross blades with you. Let us end this with our strongest strikes."
Dikargo raised his sword high. Lightning crawled across the blade in jagged arcs, each crackle splitting the air like the snarl of a raging storm. The ground trembled beneath his feet as the energy swelled, gathering into a power that seemed vast enough to tear the heavens themselves apart.
"Soul Sword—...
The blade blazed with brilliance, ominous yet mesmerizing, a storm given form. The very sight of it pressed down like a mountain, its aura carrying the weight of annihilation.
"Lightning Soul."
Rikel steadied his breath, though each inhale burned in his chest like fire. His sword quivered—not from weakness, but as if it, too, bore the burden of his unyielding soul.
"Eternal Sword—Sixteenth Form:...."
The steel in his hands shimmered, its glow blooming pure and white, like the first snowfall untouched by human hands. Cold light spilled across the battlefield, a stark contrast to Dikargo's violent storm. It was not the brilliance of destruction, but of stillness—of something eternal.
"Eternity."
The world itself seemed to falter between them. Lightning raged, snow whispered, and the battlefield was caught between chaos and serenity. Even the corpses strewn across the ground appeared to watch, frozen in silent witness to the duel's end.
Their eyes locked—one burning with demonic fury, the other alight with human resolve. In that breathless instant, time seemed to hold its breath.
And then, with a roar that shook the air, they surged forward.
Steel met steel.
The clash was not a sound, but a sensation—an all-consuming tremor that tore through stone and sky alike. The heavens split with light, half blinding white, half raging thunder, as though two worlds had collided and neither would yield.
The vibration shot up Rikel's arms, numbing his bones. His skin blistered against the hilt, the tang of iron flooding his mouth as blood seeped from his bitten lips.
The glow of his blade flickered—then with a sharp, heart-stopping crack, it shattered.
Fragments scattered like dying stars, fading before they touched the ground.
Dikargo's sword cut through the void left behind, descending in an arc of blinding lightning. Its edge drew closer, closer still, until it filled Rikel's vision.
"…Slow…" The thought crawled through his mind as though time itself had broken. His vision blurred, the world dimming at the edges. "Why… does it feel so slow… when my body won't move at all?"
"Is this… the end?"
The air screamed around him, lightning scorching his skin, but still he couldn't lift a hand, couldn't raise a guard. His body, drained beyond its limits, was frozen in place.
Memories flashed before his dimming eyes.
Since childhood, I only wanted to be a knight… to protect those I loved. I followed my brother everywhere, chasing his shadow, dreaming of strength.
I never surpassed him… but truthfully, I never wanted to. I wanted him to remain above me—someone I could serve with pride, no matter how far I climbed.
His lips trembled, tears streaking down his blood-stained face.
Brother… I'm sorry. I couldn't keep my promise to make you the strongest. I couldn't ease your burdens. Forgive me…
He closed his eyes. Waiting.
Chhk—
A clean cut. The sound of steel severing flesh, like a goat sacrificed upon an altar.
His head fell, rolling to the blood-soaked earth.
Thud.
His body collapsed beside it.
And silence descended over the battlefield.
"...."
Dikargo remained standing, his crimson eyes fixed on Rikel's fallen body. For the first time in centuries, they held not malice, but something rarer—admiration.
"An admirable warrior—how unfortunate that we crossed blades so early. In another time, in another place… perhaps the result would have been different ."
A long breath escaped his lips.
"…If we had met in different circumstances, perhaps we could have been… rivals ."
He lowered his gaze to his chest. A gaping hole marred the right side, the wound clean and merciless, revealing moonlight through his demonic flesh. He brushed his hand against it, crimson fingers smearing against charred skin. Yet he made no move to heal.
"This wound…" he whispered. "…shall remain, in honor of the name—Rikel Kael."
With surprising solemnity, the High Demon bowed his head toward the fallen knight.
"In the name of the Demon King of Vengeance, I swear upon my name—Dikargo Retrakes—you were the most admirable opponent I have ever faced."
"Now accept my sincerest gratitude".
"Rest in peace".
For a few moments, silence claimed the battlefield once more. Dikargo closed his eyes, exhaling deeply.
then turned and lifted his gaze toward the horizon, as though ready to leave the battlefield behind. Yet the moment his back shifted away from Rikel's corpse— a new thought struck him.
"…What now? Should I return to the lower realm?" His thoughts wandered, bitter and weary. "No… no, I've been chained in that rotting pit for too long. Perhaps I shall walk this world a while longer."
Decision forming, his lips curved in a rare, almost peaceful smile.
"Then it's settled. I will rema—"
Schkkk—
The words died in his throat. A pitch-black blade erupted through his neck, searing his flesh. The stench of burning skin filled the air.
Drip… drip… drip…
Blood ran freely, thick and endless, soaking the ground in a crimson pool. His hands twitched, reaching instinctively toward the wound.
And then—
A voice, cold and merciless, rang within his mind:
[Do not try anything… or I will sever your head.]