I Refuse the Tragic Ending

Several dozen meters away, Rovan could no longer afford to pay attention to the battle between his companions and their opponent. His own enemy remained standing, despite the injuries he had sustained during their exchange.

A deep cut ran across Valthazar Stitch’s side, while one of his arms hung limply at his side. His breathing had grown heavier, and his movements were no longer as fluid as they had been at the beginning of their confrontation. Nevertheless, his crimson eyes remained fixed on Rovan, carrying the same unsettling amusement that had haunted the swordsman’s memories for years.

”You bastard, I’m gonna kill you,” Rovan muttered.

Immediately after saying that, purple mana flickered around his sword, illuminating his bloodied hands and the ruined ground beneath his feet. He had already exhausted most of his mana, and his body was approaching its limits. The wound beneath his ribs had begun bleeding more heavily, every breath sent a sharp pain through his chest, and his injured left shoulder throbbed whenever he adjusted his grip. Even his legs, which had carried him through countless battles, felt increasingly heavy.

Despite his condition, he raised his sword and prepared to continue fighting.

He had spent years preparing for the possibility of this encounter, refining techniques designed specifically to counter Valthazar’s dark magic. He had expected the man to be stronger than he remembered, but he had not anticipated how drastically his fighting style would have evolved.

Valthazar’s magic was known as Black Vein Corruption. Unlike ordinary offensive spells, it did not merely damage the body. Its dark energy interfered with the natural circulation of mana, disrupting its flow through an opponent’s body and creating subtle weaknesses in their movements. Even a slight disruption could throw an experienced swordsman off balance, leaving him vulnerable to attacks that would otherwise have been easy to anticipate.

Rovan had learned to recognize those disruptions and, more importantly, developed ways to exploit them. However, every counter required precise timing, and every mistake carried a price.

Rovan wiped the blood that trickled from his mouth.

Across from him, Valthazar tilted his head slightly. His gaze traveled over Rovan’s exhausted body before settling on his face.

”You have improved, but not enough.”

Rovan narrowed his eyes. ”Don’t talk as if you know me.”

Valthazar’s crimson eyes glinted beneath the shadows of his hood. ”If you don’t believe me, you’re free to try again.” His lips curled into a mocking smile. ”Hehe.”

The words struck a nerve, but Rovan refused to let his expression change. He had spent years imagining what he would say when he finally encountered this man again. In those imagined confrontations, he had always remained calm and composed, confident that he would eventually bring his enemy to his knees.

Reality had proved considerably less convenient.

Although Rovan had managed to inflict several damage on Valthazar, he had yet to secure a decisive advantage. Was this all he could accomplish after spending years preparing for this moment? Was forcing Valthazar to fight seriously the best result he could achieve?

The questions stirred memories he had desperately tried to bury, but he refused to let them undermine his resolve. Instead, he adjusted his stance and drew upon the last remnants of mana within his body. Purple energy surged along his sword, gathering around the blade until its faint glow became a concentrated, shimmering aura that made the surrounding air tremble.

Valthazar’s mocking smile gradually disappeared as he recognized the change in Rovan’s mana. He had assumed the swordsman was already running on fumes, which was precisely why he had provoked him, hoping to make him waste whatever strength remained in a reckless attack. The sight of that concentrated aura revealed how badly he had miscalculated.

”Wait, kid! I was just kidding!”

Rovan lunged without hesitation.

”Violet Veil Severance!”

He developed Violet Veil Severance by learning to divide his mana circulation into independently controlled streams. When Black Veil Corruption interferes with one stream, he can isolate it before the disruption spreads into the others.

The sudden surge of purple mana caught the attention of the four combatants fighting several dozen meters away. Even amid the chaos of their own battle, they sensed the energy and turned toward its source, only to see Rovan charging straight at Valthazar with his sword raised.

”Rovan!” Garrick shouted.

”Don’t be reckless!” Selene called out.

Liora widened in shock as well.

Their warnings fell on deaf ears. Rovan’s entire focus had narrowed to the man standing before him, while years of preparation, painful memories, and long-suppressed hatred converged into a single intention: he would kill Valthazar Stitch.

In the blink of an eye, Rovan crossed the remaining distance and swung his sword upward, the purple blade cutting through the air with a sharp hiss.

Fuck!

Valthazar knew he couldn’t use Black Veil Corruption against him. His split second decision barely managed to twist his body aside. The sword passed dangerously close to his face, severing a few strands of hair before continuing upward. Rovan had anticipated the evasive movement, however, and reversed his swing before Valthazar could regain his balance, driving the blade toward the exposed side of his torso.

Valthazar reacted instinctively. His remaining hand darkened as Black Vein Corruption spread across his fingers, allowing him to catch the incoming blade between two fingers just before it pierced his ribs. The collision produced a harsh metallic screech as purple mana hissed against the black energy coating his skin, sending tiny sparks scattering through the air.

As expected, his technique rendered useless against Rovan’s Violet Veil Severance.

Pain shot through Valthazar’s hand and spread up his arm, twisting his expression for an instant. Yet survival took precedence over discomfort. He had grown accustomed to pain throughout his life, and compared to it, this was hardly enough to make him lose his composure.

He didn’t give up.

He had superior mana compared to Rovan.

Valthazar tightened his fingers around the blade, attempting to suppress the purple mana with his corrupted energy. His goal wasn’t to distort Rovan’s magic but to delay. Realizing his intention, Rovan released the pressure on his sword and stepped forward. Rather than struggling against his opponent’s superior mana, he slipped inside Valthazar’s guard and drove his elbow toward the man’s injured arm.

The impact forced Valthazar’s body to twist, loosening his hold on the weapon. Rovan seized the opportunity to wrench his sword free before following with a short, brutal slash aimed at the exposed side of his opponent’s torso. Valthazar staggered backward, barely avoiding the full force of the attack, but Rovan refused to give him room to recover.

He advanced with another strike, his purple aura illuminating his bloodied face. Valthazar attempted to retreat, but his movements had become too sluggish to escape the incoming blade.

”Shit!”

The sword swept across his body, cutting through.

Fragments of fabric scattering across the ruined battlefield like scraps of a torn funeral shroud.

For a brief moment, Rovan felt the resistance of his sword give way beneath the force of his strike. Before he could follow through with another attack, however, a cold voice interrupted the exchange.

”Boy, you’re too impulsive.”

Rovan turned toward the voice, his expression changing when he realized it had not come from Valthazar. Instead, the speaker was the smaller opponent who had been fighting Garrick, Selene, and Liora. Somehow, she had crossed the distance between the two battles and positioned herself directly between Rovan and Valthazar.

The last pieces of her black outer garment drifted to the ground, exposing what lay beneath.

Everyone who witnessed the scene stared in disbelief.

There was no human flesh beneath the torn clothing, no skin, and certainly no blood. Instead, an intricate wooden frame stood where a human body should have been, its proportions resembling those of a slender woman but its construction revealing something far more disturbing.