Ironvale sat in silence, looking out toward the sea of red gold as though he was waiting for something.
Suddenly, he looked up and nodded.
The Thistles had their trump cards. The Firewings had their trump cards.
But didn’t he too?
They had a numbers’ advantage that no one could match up to.
While it seemed he had come alone, had he ever truly been?
He didn’t know what was going on, but he felt like he had been played in someone’s palm. He didn’t usually like to use his brain very much when it came to this sort of thing, but he wasn’t just fighting for himself right now, he was fighting for the Sect that had given him everything he could hang his hat on.
How could he take the fate of the Sect that raised him as lightly as his own life?
With a push of his palm, Ironvale soared down to the lava below, landing lightly. Though he could see Thessa, he didn’t seem to be in a rush to deal with her at all.
He almost strolled forward, taking dozens of minutes before he was just a few meters from Thessa. Yet, the attack he had been expecting hadn’t come yet.
“If you’re going to attack, shouldn’t you do it now? Or could it be that you want the girl to grow more powerful than all of us first?”
Ironvale looked down beneath his feet.
BANG!
The calm former number one Core Disciple’s expression changed.
A rain of rocks descended from above. His gaze shot upward, but he was still a step late in reacting.
The heavy, strong rocks pelted down with great speed, clearly propelled by something no less heavy. A single careless mistake and Ironvale knew that even with how much he had strained his body, he might break a few bones.
[Moonlit Skin].
He reacted quickly, slipping out and dodging the rocks one after another.
Chi.
The sound was masked within the chaos, so subtle that Ironvale didn’t even notice it until it was too late to completely dodge.
He swerved to the side, not expecting that the main attack would still come from below.
The blow was so swift that the pain lagged several seconds behind. But the feeling of empty weightlessness came with shocking speed.
Ironvale’s arm flew into the skies, his blood being incinerated by the heat. He barely had time to pool a new wave of Mana toward the wound.
The good news was that the bleeding had been instantly cauterized.
The bad news?
A limb he had had all his life was now gone.
Ironvale opened his one remaining palm, slight hints of disbelief coloring his features. He had been so ready, so prepared. How had he still been so caught off guard?
His sword flew into his hand under his action, a resonate hum echoing as he slashed out toward the pools of lava beneath him, but a ripple had already appeared behind him.
‘It really is him.’ Ironvale’s gaze sharpened.
He had sensed that something was wrong, his intuition was incredibly strong because his sword was far from a normal treasure. Having contracted it, as a Soul Mancer he, of course, benefitted from it. If not for this, he wouldn’t have picked out the difference either.
Theron’s blade streaked toward Ironvale. However, despite having just one arm—losing what Theron was certain was his dominant right arm—Ironvale’s swordsmanship didn’t seem to have hit a wall.
DENG! DENG! DENG!
Ironvale swiftly countered a trio of combinations, taking a step back and creating distance before sweeping out the tip of his blade.
A scythe of white gold roared to life, closing in the distance on Theron.
Ironvale, who had just been making distance, seemed to change his mind. Stomping a foot, he surged ahead with great speed, following after the scythe as though its shadow.
Forced to block, Theron held his two blades up before himself. He knew immediately that just one wasn’t enough. He was already crossing an entire major realm to do battle right now. There was only so much the Bloomstone could amplify him without also shattering him to pieces.
At best, his strength output currently was about the equivalent of what it would be if he was in the Third Silver Resonance.
But that would have to be enough.
Until Ironvale ducked beneath his own scythe of energy, piercing a blow right toward Theron’s dantian.
‘He already grasped my weakness.’ Theron thought to himself.
In this space, casting Water Mancy spells was basically impossible. Theron could protect himself with Mana, and use his blades in close combat, but that was all.
If that was the case, increase in strength or not, lost arm or whole, it wouldn’t matter.
PUCHI!
Ironvale’s sword impaled Theron, but the latter’s expression didn’t change in the slightest. In fact, he only shifted to the side, his body continuing as Ironvale drove in further.
The blade missed his dantian by the smallest of hairs.
As Theron shifted, his arms flexed, pushing the white gold scythe of energy off to the side and above his head.
With only the leverage of one arm, Ironvale didn’t have nearly as much control over his sword as he usually did. And because of the angle he had sliced at, Theron was able to use his body to push against the flat of the blade, deviating it to the side.
The instant the hilt of the blade slammed against his torso, Theron took a strong pivot and the sword was ripped out of Ironvale’s grasp.
Off balance, taken off guard, and crouching, Ironvale didn’t have the balance to stop the knee that drove into his nose.
BANG!
The new Chosen disciple was sent flying back, his sword remaining in Theron’s belly… until it was suddenly gone.
Theron didn’t even try to control the blade, putting it away into his spatial ring.
Now… it was even.
Theron stood there, blood pooling out from his stomach.
In the distance, Ironvale looked at his palm. Seeing it empty of a sword, he didn’t seem to know how to react for a moment.
He called it back out of habit, but there was no connection to establish.
He blinked, somehow still not believing it.
His sword… he lost it?
This… was Theron’s plan from the start?
Ironvale had lost count of the number of losses he had taken in his life. But maybe for the first time since he was a child, he felt something stir within him this time.
Rage.
Unbridled, unmitigated rage.
“How dare you…”
SHIIIING! SHIIING! SHIIIING!
A Sword Resonance hum filled the air.
Ironvale reached out a hand, white gold beginning to accumulate until a new sword formed. But Theron was certain that it was no normal accumulation of Mana.
This was an Echo.
An Echo in the form of a sword?
Theron frowned. He had never heard of such a thing before. Wait… was it that Forbidden Spell? But more importantly than that, why did it feel like it was so close to manifesting a tangible form?
From the start, Theron knew that Ironvale wouldn’t be so easy to beat. He could see that the black iron sword that followed him around everywhere was special, so he got rid of it first.
As for the rest…
Theron’s expression returned to a placidness reminiscent of the deepest reaches of a frigid lake.
… It didn’t matter what Ironvale brought out. Without his sword, his fate was sealed.
Theron took a step forward.
Veinsong.