『 Chapter 𝟡 』
That was what the Fourth Minister heard before receiving Viserys' strike—a blow that forced him to stagger backward.
He stood at the heart of the courtyard, unarmed, leaning solely on his absolute power. His eyes, glowing with the hue of azure fire, reflected the certainty of one who needed neither blade nor spear; for him, flame alone was enough to crush any foe.
On the other side, Viserys stared back with eyes that held no fear, but rather the cold resolve of a warrior who knew retreat meant annihilation. His grip tightened around the hilt of his sword, while the thunderous roar surrounding him made the earth itself seem to acknowledge his presence as a fighter who would not fall easily.
"Human… do you truly intend to die in order to save souls fated to burn long ago? Are you mad—or merely a loyal dog?"
Viserys raised his sword slowly, his gaze never leaving his enemy.
"I do not think myself mad… but I am certainly not filth like you."
The Fourth Minister laughed—not with amusement, but with a mixture of disdain and weariness. Then he lifted his hand toward the sky. At once, flames of azure danced across his palm—fire that did not illuminate but devoured light itself. In the blink of an eye, he hurled it toward Viserys, and from his hand leapt a serpent of living flame, its fangs blazing as it darted through the air with murderous speed, seeking his heart.
But Viserys was no idle spectator. With a swift stroke, his sword cleaved the serpent in two. Yet the searing heat that burst from its shattered form nearly melted the flesh beneath his armor.
"A fine strike…" the Minister murmured coldly, then clapped his hands.
Suddenly, pillars of azure fire erupted from the ground, encircling Viserys like a prison of living flame—not mere fire that scorched flesh, but a hunger that devoured all it touched.
Yet Viserys did not yield. He drew a deep breath, slammed his sword against the earth, and unleashed a mighty gale that scattered part of the inferno. Then, with a fierce leap, he hurled himself straight toward his foe.
The Fourth Minister smirked with contempt, raising a finger. In the air above, a spear of blue fire materialized, hurtling like lightning toward Viserys' chest.
But Viserys twisted in midair, deflecting its path with a deft motion of his blade. Even so, the spear's heat devoured part of his armor, leaving a scorched wound across his chest.
He landed, panting, yet showing no weakness. Slowly, he dragged the tip of his sword along the ground, carving a straight line, as though marking the true boundary of the battle.
And in a low voice, trembling with fury and conviction, he whispered:
"I have not yet begun…"
---
The Fourth Minister stood but a few steps away, shrouded in the flickering aura of azure flame, his eyes narrowing with disdain. With a mocking tone, he addressed the knight:
"You, wretched human… how dare you stand with such insolence before me?"
Viserys did not delay his answer. Raising his sword, its edge alive with sparks of lightning, he retorted with unyielding defiance:
"You deranged abomination… what delusion gives you such confidence?"
In the blink of an eye, he unleashed a lightning-charged strike toward his foe. Yet the Minister evaded with fluid grace, sidestepping swiftly, the same mocking smile still etched upon his face. Then he raised his hand, conjuring a massive orb of blue fire, swift beyond the grasp of sight.
"Dragon's Roar," he intoned, casting it toward Viserys.
But Viserys was no ordinary knight. He lifted his sword and unleashed the Blade of Resolve, a wave of crackling thunder that collided with the fiery orb. The result was a cataclysmic explosion that shook the royal hall, shattering pillars and sending fragments cascading from the ceiling.
The Minister staggered back, a rare expression of unease breaking through his mask. For the first time, he felt danger. A strange realization gripped him: this man before him was no mere human. He had not fought in the Millennium War, and yet his magic rivaled his own—perhaps even surpassed it.
The mockery in his face vanished, replaced by grim seriousness. He tightened his hold upon his power, knowing this fight was no longer an exhibition of strength—it was the decisive clash of lightning against fire.
Lifting his hands skyward, he whispered words that slithered into the heart of darkness:
"Cursed Flame."
And in an instant, without warning, a flash of azure burst before Viserys. Agony tore through his body—his armor split with a gaping wound, blood flowing freely. The strike had been too swift for the eye to follow, a force beyond the realm of ordinary sorcery.
The Minister sneered, his eyes narrowing with malice.
"Do you see now the gulf between my power and yours, human? I admit, you are strong… but do not be mistaken. I shall show you what true power is."
Yet what he did not foresee was Viserys' response.
The knight laughed.
A wild, booming, defiant laughter that echoed through the shattered hall. Even the Fourth Minister froze, stunned. The human should have collapsed beneath that blow. He should have trembled. But instead… he laughed!
The Minister's eyes widened. Coldly, he demanded:
"Why do you laugh?"
Viserys wiped the blood from his lips, his eyes blazing with a deadly fire.
"You wretched beast… today, I will kill you without fail. Did you truly believe a wound like this could end me?"
He raised his sword high, sparks whirling furiously around him, heralding an oncoming storm. With a thunderous voice, he cried:
"The Great Thunderclap!"
In that instant, above the Minister's head, a colossal blade of lightning took form—like a beast of pure, radiant fury, its sparks restless and alive. Before the Minister could react, the sword descended at impossible speed.
There was no time to flee.
The impact shook the royal hall with an earth-shattering explosion. Marble shattered into shards, flame and lightning collided in a tempest of ruin.
And when the dust at last cleared…
The Fourth Minister lay upon the ground.
The elves' eyes froze upon him—bloodied, broken, disbelief shadowing his face.
How… how could he be struck down—by a human?