Then, for a brief moment, Kyrion's expression darkened. His body tensed, shoulders tightening as if preparing for something unseen. His eyes dropped, shadowed beneath his brow, and a deep frown carved across his face. Then, just as suddenly, he relaxed. His breathing steadied. Slowly, he closed his eyes.

When he opened them again, the light within them was gone replaced by a cold, piercing calm. The familiar grin returned, but it wasn't the same. It was darker. Empty.

In that instant, the blood soaking the sand began to stir. Droplets shimmered crimson under the arena lights, trembling as if answering an unspoken command. The crowd watched, frozen in disbelief, as every drop of Kyrion's spilled blood along with torn muscle and flesh rose from the ground like threads of liquid red drawn by invisible strings.

The fragments drifted back toward him, weaving together seamlessly. The air hummed faintly as they fused with his body, the wound sealing shut with an eerie glow. Bones snapped back into place. Flesh reformed. Fingers twitched.

Within seconds, his arm was whole again, smooth, unscarred, and terrifyingly alive.

The arena erupted in shock. Even the emissary stood frozen, gripping the edge of his platform.

"Unbelievable!" the emissary shouted. "Tharion just restored his entire arm! This isn't healing magic no, this is something else! It looks similar to the technique Cora used but this feels far darker!"

Gasps filled the stands. The crowd could hardly process what they had witnessed.

Then, Tharion's grin vanished. His eyes dimmed to a calm, emotionless stare. The shift in his aura was immediate, eerily silent, suffocating.

Kyrion took a step back, tightening his grip on his sword.

Kyrion chuckled again, tilting his head slightly.

"Ah, there it is, the smile is back." His eyes narrowed with amusement.

Tharion smirked. "You're strong," he said. "But what really interests me isn't your strength, it's that ability of yours. You used the same technique as that girl, Cora. It's truly fascinating."

Kyrion stepped forward, his blade glinting under the arena lights. "But for a swordsman to use a technique that doesn't even belong to his class that's rare," Tharion continued. "Tell me, how did you do it?"

"Well, look at that," Kyrion said, his grin widening. "You're the one asking questions, yet here I am being interviewed." His grip tightened on his sword. "Then let me ask you instead, how did you manage to cut my hand off?"

Tharion took a slow breath, his expression sharpening as his own smile faded into a cold, focused line.

"No need for talk," he said quietly. "Come at me."

The air between them thickened. The crowd fell silent, sensing what was about to happen.

Kyrion's eyes flickered, and in the next instant he vanished.

Boom

A shockwave rippled through the arena as sand exploded upward. Tharion barely had time to react; his instincts screamed before his eyes could follow. He raised his sword just in time to block a strike that came from above.

The force drove him to one knee, his arms trembling under the weight of the blow. Kyrion was relentless, his speed was unreal. His blade blurred, slashing again and again, each strike faster than the last. Sparks flew with every impact as Tharion's sword met his.

From the stands, the audience gasped, unable to keep up.

"Did you see that? He disappeared again!"

"No, he didn't disappear," another spectator shouted. "He's just that fast!"

Down below, Tharion pushed back, twisting his sword to parry another strike. Sweat beaded his forehead, but his eyes stayed sharp, tracking the faint flashes of light marking Kyrion's movements.

"Impressive," Kyrion muttered, appearing behind him in a blink. "You can still follow me?"

" Barely, but now you're not holding back, huh?" Tharion said, breathing hard. "If I hadn't moved just now, I'd be dead. You planning to kill me?"

Kyrion smiled coldly. "Well, if you die, that's not my problem. The rules say as long as you don't actually die inside the arena, it's fair game. Even if I injure you so badly that you wish you were dead" he tilted his head, eyes glinting "it won't be against the rules."

Tharion gritted his teeth. "Ha, you evil bastard." He raised his sword slightly, steadying his stance. "You're strong, I'll give you that."

Kyrion's grin widened. Lightning began to spark around his legs, crackling across the sand. His entire body vibrated with power, then in a blink, he vanished.

Vroom

A thunderous shock followed as Kyrion's foot slammed into Tharion's head. The impact made the arena quake. Tharion staggered backward, barely stopping himself from collapsing.

Before he could recover, Kyrion appeared again, his sword flashing downward. The blade pierced through Tharion's leg with a sickening crunch.

"Ahh!" Tharion roared, gripping the wound.

The crowd erupted in shock.

"Unbelievable! The 'Deadly Smile' isn't smiling this time!" shouted the Emissary. "But don't count him out yet. This man doesn't fall easily!"

Tharion's breathing grew ragged as blood soaked the sand. He forced his leg to stay firm despite the sword still buried inside it.

Kyrion smiled, twisting the blade slightly before yanking it free. He raised his sword again, preparing to strike the other leg

but Tharion's eyes flashed. In a sudden burst of movement, he twisted his injured leg and kicked with full force, slamming his foot into Kyrion's ankle.

Kyrion stumbled slightly, his balance shifting. Tharion seized the moment, pushing off the ground to stand upright again, positioning himself near the edge of the arena.

Shit, I'm not a man of war, Tharion thought, his vision swimming. I can't win this. He's too fast. Too strong.

What should I do? His grip tightened on his sword. Should I try to predict his next move? No, that's suicide. If I'm wrong, I'll lose my head.

He looked at Kyrion, standing calm, lightning still coiling around his legs.

Maybe if I stay on the defense, I can survive a little longer.

His breath steadied. His eyes narrowed. I just need one opening.

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