Kenzo's mind was completely clouded. His body was still moving, but his thoughts struggled to keep up. Images from the previous battle collided inside his head like fragments that refused to fit together. The Unstable-rank Void Creature was dead, but the price had been heavy. His black bark armor, once solid and almost alive, was now covered in visible cracks, some still giving off faint wisps of heat while others had been driven deep into the dark material itself. It had held. Barely. Kenzo lowered his eyes toward his chest, staring at the fractures running across the armor like frozen scars. Thank God I got this artifact. Without it, I would've died more than once in that fight. The thought cut through the haze with painful clarity.
Around him, the battlefield bore the scars of what had happened. Lucian had only just collapsed, drained of every last ounce of strength, his body finally refusing to continue after giving everything he had to the fight. His breathing was weak but steady. Alive, but out of the battle. The same boy who had once been terrified of almost any Void Creature had just helped bring down one of Unstable rank. Madame could no longer fight either. She was barely standing on the four legs she had left, her gaze still hard even as her body refused to obey her any further. She had reached her limit. Once Lucian woke up, he would have to return her to his Orb so she could recover.
Kenzo drew in a difficult breath. Every movement pulled at his muscles, every step sent dull pain climbing through his legs. Yet only one thought mattered now. Ophelia. He turned toward the other side of the chamber and immediately found her. Sir James was pressing her relentlessly. Even from a distance, Kenzo could see the difference in their rhythm. Ophelia was being cornered. On her knees. His heart skipped a beat.
He was about to move, about to force his exhausted body into a run despite everything, when something appeared directly in front of him. There was no blinding flash or explosion of energy. The object simply materialized in the air within reach, sudden and unnaturally clear. Kenzo reacted on instinct and grabbed it. The instant his fingers closed around it, a voice echoed inside his mind.
[Congratulations. You have received an artifact.]
He had no time to think. The message had barely disappeared before his attention snapped forward again. Sir James was about to deliver the killing blow, and Ophelia no longer had the strength to evade. Kenzo did not hesitate. He did not inspect the object or try to understand what it was. He summoned it immediately.
The weapon formed in his hands, unfolding to its full length and weight in an instant. At first glance, it resembled a spear, at least enough for Kenzo's body to instinctively recognize how to hold it. Long, balanced, something that could be thrown. Without slowing down, Kenzo pulled his arm back and hurled the weapon with all the strength he had left. It tore through the air with a deep, violent whistle before slamming into the floor between Sir James and Ophelia. The impact struck with enough force to knock Sir James's attack off course at the last possible moment.
Even if it was not truly a spear, Kenzo immediately felt that sense of familiarity he had always preferred. The weight, the balance, the way the weapon responded to movement. His body knew what to do with it even while his mind remained buried beneath exhaustion and pain. He started forward, staggering badly under the weight of the injuries from the battle he had only just finished. Every step was a struggle and every breath burned, but he still reached the weapon. Without a word, he wrapped one hand around the shaft and pulled it free from the webbed floor. The metal vibrated briefly before becoming still.
Kenzo straightened and met Ophelia's eyes. She understood immediately. He stepped in front of her, his back turned toward her, weapon in hand.
— « I'll give you one minute to pull yourself together. Then join me. »
He did not wait for an answer. He faced Sir James, and the two immediately clashed.
Kenzo used those first exchanges to understand the weapon—its response, its true reach, the way its unusual blade behaved at close range. Sir James, meanwhile, watched him carefully. He attacked only occasionally, content to provoke, measure, and study. For that entire minute, neither of them landed a decisive blow. Kenzo adapted slowly but steadily. Every movement became smoother than the last, old instincts beginning to resurface, patterns his body still remembered from using a spear even though the weapon in his hands was something different.
But the exhaustion kept building. The excessive use of [Serpent] weighed heavily on his mind. The constant pressure, the forced concentration, the strain of demanding more and more from his body—it was all beginning to unravel. Then, without warning, Kenzo felt himself give out. His legs weakened.
Sir James did not waste the opportunity. He stepped forward and drove a fist into Kenzo's stomach. It was not a full-power strike. Sir James was injured himself, and it was not even half as strong as the blow Naty had taken earlier. But it was enough. Enough to awaken something.
Kenzo staggered backward and coughed up blood. Then he understood. That sensation. That pressure. He had felt something similar before, when Naty had used her power on him. Almost the same, but not quite. There was one crucial difference. Naty destabilized the mind of whoever she touched, and that disturbance affected the body. Sir James was doing something else. Something deeper. Something more violent.
He was literally injuring the soul.
At least, that was what it felt like. The pain did not come from Kenzo's flesh. It was an intangible burning somewhere inside him, something he could neither locate nor touch, and it forced him to bend slightly under the pressure. Sir James drew back another fist, this one clearly meant to finish it.
Kenzo had no time to react.
Then Ophelia appeared from behind him. She launched herself into a smooth spin, gathered what little strength remained in her body, and drove a turning kick into Sir James's ribs. The impact rang through the chamber, throwing him sideways. Ophelia landed heavily, almost losing her balance, panting and exhausted, but still standing.
She raised her eyes toward him.
— « Let's end this. »
The battle had entered its final phase.