Knox hit the throne hard, the impact knocking the air out of his lungs. Dust rose around him. Igris's towering silhouette closed in—no hesitation, no mercy. A knight performing subjugation on a devil… yet somehow, the knight looked far more monstrous than the devil himself.
Knox gritted his teeth.
If I stay like this… I'll lose...
For a split second, doubt tried to take root. But...
No...I haven't lost yet!
What I lack isn't resolve. It's power.
Power to fight.
Power to protect.
And power to survive.
Then it hit him—
Thump.
That same pulse.
Thump.
A dull, heavy beat echoed in his chest—slow and deliberate, like something deep inside him had just awakened.
A familiar sensation surged up from the pit of his core, the déjà vu so strong it made his vision tremble. It was the exact feeling from the moment Shadow Monarch first awakened during his fight with Jasil—the moment reality itself seemed to twist around him.
Then, the shadow answered.
His hair darkened rapidly, strands bleeding into pure, ink-black.
His eyes snapped open—no longer their usual shade.
Blue.
A deep, sharp blue, glowing faintly like a cold star burning in a moonless sky.
Shadows rippled outward, not violent this time, but controlled—coiling around his frame as if recognizing their rightful master.
Even Igris paused—head tilting slightly, as if recognizing the birth of something he'd seen once long ago.
So it's happening again… this feeling…
Knox exhaled, and the throne room trembled.
He rose to his feet, posture steady, aura sharpening into a blade of its own.
"Round two," he muttered, voice lower… colder.
The air cracked.
Knox pushed off the throne, exhaling slowly.
His stance lowered.
His presence shifted.
And then—his right foot slid forward, the floor cracking beneath it.
A thin, dark-violet aura flickered around his katana, not silver like Shizuna's, but a sinister, muted glow tinted with the color of dusk and shadow. His stance lowered—light, clean, flowing—and for the first time since the fight began, he was the one pressing in.
He whispered under his breath:
"Eight Leaves One Blade – Fourth Form – Shizuna's Version – Duality."
His katana cut through the air in a swift, nearly soundless arc—
and a second slash followed half a heartbeat later, its afterimage made of pure, roiling shadow.
Instead of Shizuna's silver glow, Knox's double strike erupted in black-violet crescents, tearing through space like twin rifts. The phantom blade chased the first with predatory hunger, colliding onto Igris's advancing form in a snapping, explosive burst.
The Red Knight's armor screeched as the impact pushed him back two steps—a first in this duel.
Knox didn't pause.
The moment the twin shadows of Duality finished crossing through the air, the floor beneath his feet cracked—shadows spiraling upward, clinging to his frame like a living mantle. His newly black hair fluttered with an unnatural weightlessness, each strand outlined by a faint violet sheen. And those bright blue eyes, sharp and unnaturally lucid, locked onto Igris with a calm that felt wrongly unhinged.
Knox exhaled once.
Cold.
As if the temperature of the arena dropped by entire seasons.
Eight Leaves One Blade – First Form – Shizuna's Version – Raging Blizzard.
His katana spun vertically through the air in a perfect arc—
one smooth rotation, no wasted movement.
But unlike Shizuna's silver storm, Knox's version manifested as a black-violet cyclone, laced with drifting particles that looked like frozen shadows. The moment the blade completed its rotation—
A blizzard of umbral frost exploded outward.
It wasn't snow.
It wasn't ice.
It was something in between—like crystallized mana ripped straight from the void.
Igris braced himself, cape whipping violently as the storm detonated around him, the frost clinging to his armor like a second skin.
But Knox was already moving.
A soft step.
Barely a whisper.
Eight Leaves One Blade – Second Form – Shizuna's Version – Silver Winds.
Except that nothing about it was silver.
Knox's barrage tore forward in rapid, slicing gusts of black-purple arcs, each slash leaving behind a fleeting streak—like afterimages painted by a dying star. They curved around Igris, attacking from angles too sharp and too swift to track fully.
The air whistled.
The ground scarred.
Igris's massive frame skidded a step back—just one—but enough to show the pressure was real.
One final slash carved through the storm—clean, precise, silent.
And for the first time since the fight began…
the Red Knight was forced to guard with both hands.
Knox's blue eyes narrowed just slightly.
"I'm not done yet."
Shadows peeled away from Knox's back like wings being born, reshaping into six floating constructs. What had once been simple ranged funnels now elongated—sleek, tapered, and blade-like—edges humming with a dark-violet pulse. Each one resembled a miniature GN Sword Bit, drifting in a slow orbit around him, their tips glowing like condensed night.
The air trembled.
A low vrrrm resonated from the sword bits as they aligned behind his shoulders, forming a halo of predatory intent. Every movement Knox made, even the smallest shift of breath, caused the blades to adjust subtly—like wolves ready to pounce the moment their alpha commanded.
Igris paused for the first time.
The crimson knight's helm tilted, as though analyzing the sudden spike of killing intent. That single second of stillness carried weight—enough to show that even the Red Knight recognized this was no longer the same prey he cornered moments ago.
Knox lifted his katana slightly, the blade trembling with the same black-purple mana coursing through his body.
"Go," he exhaled—quiet, steady, resolved.
The sword bits answered first.
With a sharp shing, all six shot forward, splitting into two wings of three, forming serrated arcs as they streaked toward Igris. Their paths twisted unpredictably, warping like shadows slicing through air.
Igris swept his greatsword up to block—
—but the first pair clashed against it with a metallic howl.
The second pair curved around, striking from the flank.
The third pair descended like guillotines from above.
Sparks—black, violet, and crimson—erupted everywhere as Igris was forced backward step by crushing step. Every impact pushed him deeper into the marble, cracks spider-webbing outward beneath his boots.
Knox followed in seamlessly, stepping into the storm of blades he orchestrated. The sword bits moved in perfect synchronization with him, reacting to his intent rather than his commands—extensions of his will, of his rising, awakening power.
And for the first time in the fight…
The Red Knight wasn't advancing.
He was being driven back.
By the White Devil who more like Black Devil.
Igris slammed backward, boots grinding across the marble as cracks spider-webbed beneath him. His crimson armor—once pristine like a royal war-banner—was now torn open in several places, leaking faint embers of mana as if his body were a furnace losing pressure.
For the first time, the Red Knight's advance faltered.
His helmet tilted upward. Two eerie points of red light glowed inside, studying Knox—really studying him—as if reassessing the threat entirely.
Then the knight straightened his stance.
Slowly. Deliberately.
His gauntlets clenched, and the temperature of the throne hall plunged. Crimson energy ignited around him, swirling like liquid fire being forced into a single point at the very center of his chest. The ground trembled—not from rage, but from intention.
He was preparing to end it.
Even without words, the meaning was unmistakable.
This was the decisive strike of a knight.
Knox, breathing hard, felt his own pulse steady.
"…So that's how it is."
His voice was calm—eerily calm—as the black-violet aura rose from his skin like evaporating ink.
"If you're going all in… then I will too."
He brought his katana to his side.
Time didn't slow—everything simply fell silent.
The shadows behind him aligned, drawn into a single invisible arrow pointing forward. His stance shifted to the still, weightless posture he had only ever seen once—on a silver-haired swordswoman whose every strike felt like a prayer delivered at the speed of light.
Black-violet particles flickered off the blade's edge, lighting the dark throne hall like ghostly fireflies.
Eight Leaves One Blade — Shizuna's Version — Zeroth Gleam.
Knox inhaled, and the darkness around him seemed to follow.
No motion. No sound.
Just a subtle tightening of his grip.
Then—
A pure, deafening flash.
A single impossibly clean cut launched forth, not accompanied by force… but by absence.
The world around him warped as the streak of black-violet light carved a straight line through reality, bending shadows in its wake. For a brief instant, the throne hall looked as though time gave up trying to keep up—everything suspended in a white-blank pause except the arc of the strike.
Igris, who a moment ago had been gathering every ounce of killing intent into his final strike, suddenly froze mid-motion. His crimson armor flickered, the energy within it fluttering as if unsure whether to advance or recoil.
Knox stepped once.
A quiet fwoosh—too soft to be a slash, too sharp to be mere wind.
Then the sword returned to its sheath.
A stillness deeper than silence blanketed the throne room.
For a heartbeat, nothing happened.
Igris remained motionless, greatsword raised, posture locked mid-swing as if frozen by an unseen hand. The moon above dimmed. Shadows rippled outward from Knox's feet.
A hairline crack split across Igris's armor.
Then another.
Then a dozen more.
Only after Knox exhaled and rested his hand atop the sheathed katana—
—the slash finally arrived.
A black-violet arc carved silently through the air, blooming from the center of Igris's chest like delayed moonlight catching up to reality. The impact tore forward in a single, perfect line—clean, absolute, inescapable.
Then…
The knight's knees gave out.
Igris collapsed forward, the shockwave of his fall echoing through the shattered throne room—his armor split cleanly through as though carved by a judgment beyond physical force.