When the ringing in my ears finally faded, the world drifted back in fragments color, sound, pain.

I was on one knee, breathing hard, smoke curling from what used to be my right arm. The entire limb was half-gone, bone showing through torn flesh, mana still hissing at the wound like a living thing unwilling to die.

Across from me, Nora wasn't much better off. Her own dominant arm was in ruins, half of her sleeve burned away, silver blood or maybe moonlight dripping down her fingers and evaporating before it could touch the ground.

For a long, silent moment, neither of us moved.

The crowd was gone, or maybe I just couldn't hear them anymore. All I could feel was the pulse of life mana crawling sluggishly through my veins, knitting flesh and bone together far too slowly. It wasn't enough not fast enough. Even for me.

I gritted my teeth and forced my body upright, ignoring the pain screaming through my nerves. Across the field, Nora did the same. Her moonlight seeped from her wounds like liquid silk, wrapping around her broken arm, trying to force it back into shape.

But we both knew it.

Our regeneration wouldn't save us in time.

And yet—

When our eyes met, something silent and stubborn sparked between us.

No words. No taunts. Just mutual, burning pride.

This wasn't about victory anymore. It was about the simple, stupid truth that neither of us could walk away first.

A faint smirk tugged at the corner of my lips. Nora's expression mirrored mine tired, bloodied, but still shining with that same maddening fire.

The air between us trembled.

One last strike.

That was the unspoken agreement.

We'd end it here not because we wanted to, but because our pride wouldn't let us do anything less.

I exhaled slowly, the metallic taste of blood still lingering on my tongue. The Colosseum had fallen silent, the dust long settled, the crowd holding its breath. Only the two of us remained standing, scarred silhouettes against the broken battlefield.

My fingers tightened around Sacha's hilt. The blade, half-ice and glowing faintly with black veins of death mana, hummed under my touch like a heartbeat.

Fourth form's too weak, I thought, shifting my stance slightly. My shoulders screamed in protest, but I ignored it. It won't be enough to put her down.

For a second, I considered the Fifth Form - Ashen Dirge. Its power could've been enough…But I wasn't going to take any chances. Not against her.

My gaze sharpened.

Sixth form, then.

Sacha pulsed in my hand a faint whisper in my mind, as if asking if I was sure.

"Yeah," I murmured under my breath. "Let's end this properly."

The air began to tremble.

Sixth form - Sepulcher Wail – The stance manifests the sound of death itself. Every swing releases a wave of soul-crushing resonance, forcing enemies' bodies to believe they are already corpses. Bones fracture, hearts stutter, and weaker wills are extinguished instantly.

The moment I began channeling, the ground beneath my feet started to wilt the mana in the air draining, the color from the world bleeding into gray. Black mist swirled around my sword, crawling up my arm like smoke from a dying star.

Across from me, Nora watched in silence. Her blue eyes burned like twin stars, and the air around her began to glow gold.

Her rapier rose gracefully, spinning once, a single circular flourish that tore open reality. Flames of molten sunlight bloomed into existence, forming a blinding shield before her.

Imperial Sword Art – Third Form: Sol Aegis.

The Colosseum's shattered floor trembled under the weight of the two techniques. Death and Sunlight. Abyss and Dawn. The air screamed where they met, space itself bending and hissing like it couldn't stand to exist between us.

We stood there locked in our stances, our breaths ragged, our bodies shaking.

Seconds passed. Then minutes.

Neither of us moved. Neither of us broke focus.

It wasn't a battle anymore. It was a countdown.

When we finally moved, it would end everything.

Sweat trickled down my chin. My sword's edge shimmered in black, devouring every trace of light that dared touch it. The hum of the Sepulcher Wail grew louder, like a thousand ghosts whispering through glass.

Nora's Sol Aegis burned brighter, a miniature sun at her back. Golden fire licked the air, and I could feel the heat from where I stood even my death mana quivering in response, repulsed by the sheer vitality of it.

Our eyes met across the ruin.

And for just a heartbeat… we smiled.

She was grinning like an idiot, blood running down her cheek, teeth shining in the golden blaze. I probably looked the same, half-dead and enjoying every second of it.

"This was fun," she said softly, her voice carrying even through the roaring flames.

"Yeah," I replied, my voice a rasp, a smile tugging at my lips. "We should do it again sometime."

The air stilled.

Somewhere from nowhere, a song began to play.

A slow, broken melody.

A song of death and lies. Of endings that loop back to beginnings.

The sound curled around us like a memory.

My grip tightened. The hum of my sword peaked into a shriek.

And then —

I moved.

A single step forward, faster than the eye could follow.

Sacha's blade sang as it tore through the air, the Sepulcher Wail bursting outward in a shockwave of black resonance that devoured all sound.

The world itself seemed to split.

And as the blinding light of her Sol Aegis met the abyssal arc of my strike, the Colosseum vanished in a storm of white and black a collision of sunfire and death.

Only the faint echo of that song remained slow, mournful, and ancient. It drifted through the ruin like a ghostly lullaby, the kind that might be sung at the end of the world. A song of death and lies. A melody that knew both victory and loss.

It played on, unbothered by the destruction it underscored, as if it had always been here, waiting for this moment, for us.

And beneath that haunting tune, two silhouettes still stood amid the ruin, unmoving, their shadows stretched long across the fading light.

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