The sun beat down on the Field of Honor.
The roar of the crowd had died down to a murmur of anticipation.
Elrond stood ten meters away, his silver armor gleaming, his Holy Sword resting loosely in his grip.
"So," Elrond said, his voice carrying across the silent arena. "You are thinking to face me without a weapon?"
He tilted his head, a cold smile playing on his lips.
"Do you really think you can beat me with your bare hands?"
Markil stood relaxed, hands in his pockets. He smiled back.
"I don't know if I will beat you," Markil replied effortlessly. "But I know I am not going to be defeated."
Elrond laughed softly.
"So you want a tie?"
WOOM.
Elrond's eyes suddenly glowed with golden light. A dense, blue aura exploded from his body, shaking the dust on the ground.
"I am just thinking," Elrond whispered, "that I shouldn't kill you in an instant. Then what will be the fun of beating you up?"
A referee, an elf with a strict face, walked between them. He raised a hand.
"Before you both start, remember the rules!" the referee shouted.
"This human just has to touch Sir Elrond once. If he does, he wins. And Sir Elrond is permitted to use force to prevent this."
Markil nodded.
"Fine by me."
Elrond looked at Markil's face.
Why isn't he scared? Elrond thought, annoyed.
Everyone is booing him. The King wants him dead. I am threatening him. And he looks like he's waiting for a bus.
What type of guy is this?
The referee stepped back.
"Hey, dude," Markil called out. "What's your name?"
The elf sneered.
"Why should I tell a human my name?"
He walked out of the arena circle and raised his hand high.
"NOW! BE READY!"
Markil took a deep breath.
So that's it. The duel is starting.
Should I summon it now? No… wait for the signal.
"START!"
BOOM.
The signal was given.
Elrond didn't rush. He took a casual step forward.
"Now then," Elrond said. "Let's start."
Markil's eyes narrowed.
"ASLER."
He didn't scream it.
He commanded it.
CRACK—DOOOOOOM!
The air in the arena shattered.
A shockwave of purple and black energy detonated from Markil's position.
Elrond stopped mid-step, his eyes widening.
"What—?"
In the VIP box, King Aelindor gripped the arms of his throne.
"Oh fuck… what the hell was that?"
Kalmen Solas felt his knees buckle.
"That pressure…!"
The dust cleared slowly.
Markil stood there.
But he wasn't unarmed anymore.
In his hand was a massive, pitch-black greatsword, wrapped in crackling purple lightning that hissed like a thousand snakes.
Markil rested the blade on his shoulder, posture relaxed.
His eyes glowed with a geometric purple crest.
Just like Thoos.
Elrond felt his heart grow heavy.
What is this Aura?
It feels scary. It feels… hungry.
He forced a smile and pointed his sword.
"So," Elrond said, hiding his tremor, "that was the thing you were hiding, huh? That useless, oversized weapon of yours."
Markil looked at him.
I have to make him angry.
Sorry, Captain. But I can't let humanity lose today.
But Elrond… looking at you closely…
You hide your pain behind your muscles.
"Now then," Markil said, his voice amplified by void energy,
"I want to see how strong the 'Strongest Elven Warrior' really is."
Elrond grinned—a savage grin.
"MARKIL! HERE I COME!"
FLASH.
Elrond disappeared.
He didn't run.
He teleported through pure speed.
He appeared in front of Markil.
SLASH—SLASH—SLASH—SLASH!
A thousand strikes.
In forty seconds, Elrond unleashed a torrent of steel.
The air screamed.
The ground turned to dust.
King Aelindor stood.
"By the Gods…"
Melian covered her mouth.
"Is that…?"
Elrond was a blur of silver light.
But Markil—
Markil was a ghost.
He swayed.
Ducked.
Pivoted.
Every strike missed by a millimeter.
He wasn't dodging.
He was dancing.
Amreth's jaw dropped.
"What the hell… is he even human?"
Kalmen narrowed his eyes.
"I'm seeing it… but I can't believe it."
Elrond leapt back, smiling.
"Nice," he said. "Nice."
"This makes me happy."
He pointed his sword.
"Previously, I said no one likes you here. But now—"
His eyes burned.
"No one IS like you."
Markil smirked.
"Oh sorry. You can't butter me up now."
Elrond snarled.
"THEN DIE!"
BOOM.
The arena wall shattered.
Markil vanished.
Elrond froze.
"What the fuck?"
A hand touched his shoulder.
"Sorry," Markil whispered. "I walked here."
Elrond spun—
CRASH!
The ground exploded.
"If they fight like this," the King muttered, "they'll destroy the arena."
Melian smiled through tears.
If I die, I die on my own terms.
Elrond panted.
Faster than me…?
Markil swung Asler casually.
"Should I move my sword?"
Elrond's pride cracked.
He slammed his sword down.
"By the grace of the Holy Elven Goddess—"
The mana changed.
"Mother of Wind, Keeper of the First Light…"
Kalmen's breath hitched.
"No…"
"Unbind the chains of flesh and time."
"Divine Art—
ASTRA VELOCITAS."
Kalmen whispered:
"Oh no…"
"He's discarding time."
Elrond vanished.
SPLORTCH.
Markil's arm flew.
Blood sprayed.
"What the fuck?!"
SLASH—SLASH—SLASH!
Markil bled.
Void Vision: Maximum Output.
He saw the future.
"He's going for the kill."
Elrond descended.
"DIE!"
Markil smiled.
BOOOOOOOOOOM!
The city shook.
He blocked.
Bleeding.
Missing an arm.
Smiling.
"Shouldn't the game be over?"
"I already touched your shoulder."
Elrond snarled.
"If I don't stop—"
The air went cold.
"I'm sorry," Markil whispered.
"I have to make this stop."
His eyes flashed.
"Cinder Severance."
(Chapter 22 Finished)