The arena fell into a tense hush as Tefold stepped forward.
He was massive—broad to an almost excessive degree, his physique carved as though by relentless combat rather than careful design. Every inch of his body radiated raw draconic might. His muscles bulged beneath dim red scales that had clearly been dyed, their muted hue carrying the scars of countless battles. A thick dragon tail swayed behind him, not enormous, but unmistakably present—its slow, deliberate movement a silent threat in itself.
Compared to him, Aspen looked almost… modest.
Yet the stillness in Aspen's stance spoke louder than size ever could.
The moment the duel was declared, Tefold vanished.
The ground cracked beneath his feet as he closed the distance with terrifying speed, the air screaming in protest.
"Unique Skill: Impulsive Charge!"
His body became a blur of motion. Punches crashed forward in ruthless succession, kicks following without pause—kicks upon punches, punches upon kicks—each attack flowing into the next with brutal continuity. His tail lashed in between strikes, snapping toward Aspen's blind spots with lethal precision.
Aspen moved.
Dodging by fractions of seconds, shifting his footing, twisting his body just enough to let death brush past without claiming him. The wind tore at his cloak as each missed strike detonated against the arena floor, sending debris flying.
Too fast. Too relentless.
Still—Aspen endured.
His eyes narrowed.
I can't keep retreating.
With a sharp pivot, Aspen planted his foot and swung his great sword.
"Sword Arts: Demonic Breaker — Shatter Form."
He gripped the blade with both hands and unleashed a wild, all-encompassing sweep. The sword screamed through the air again and again, carving arcs of violent force in every direction. Shockwaves rippled outward, pulverizing the ground and forcing space between them.
Or at least—that was the intent.
Tefold didn't move.
Not an inch.
He marched forward through the storm of slashes, scales clanging as energy scraped uselessly across them. His attacks never ceased—his fists and feet continued to crash toward Aspen, relentless, suffocating.
"You might want to step back," Aspen said, his voice calm despite the strain in his arms.
Tefold scoffed.
"Huh?" His lips curled into a sneer. "Why should I, pipsqueak?"
Aspen exhaled slowly.
"…Shatter Vibration.
"
The air trembled.
Then it collapsed inward.
An invisible, immersive force detonated around Tefold, the altered air vibrating violently as if the space itself had turned hostile. The impact sent him skidding backward, boots carving trenches into the stone as blood burst from his mouth.
High above, Dracula leaned forward slightly.
"It seems his previous attacks were not for nothing," he remarked, eyes gleaming with interest.
"Oh?"
A female dragonoid reclined lazily nearby—white scales gleaming softly, long shiny black hair cascading over her shoulders, her blue eyes sharp despite her relaxed posture. "He altered the natural speed of the air around them, didn't he? Forced it to vibrate and compress before release. That's clever."
"You seem quite observant," Volic replied, glancing her way.
Tefold wiped the blood from his lips and grinned.
Then he charged again.
Aspen braced himself—but immediately realized something was wrong.
Faster.
Tefold's movements were no longer reckless. No longer haphazard. Each strike was sharper, heavier, perfectly aligned. His dull red scales glowed brighter, mana surging beneath them like molten fire.
A fist slammed into Aspen's abdomen.
He barely managed to raise his great sword in time.
The impact rang like a bell.
Aspen was hurled backward, boots scraping helplessly as he struggled to remain standing. The force behind the blow was overwhelming—far beyond before.
He was being overpowered.
Without hesitation, Aspen released his grip.
The great sword clattered to the ground.
Tefold blinked, then laughed.
"Have you finally given up?"
Aspen straightened slowly, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth.
"No."
He raised his hand.
"I call upon thee," he chanted, voice echoing unnaturally.
"From the ethereal abyss.
Tie all to black—let light turn dark."
The space beside him warped.
"Supreme Skill: Dawnfall Great Sword — Miden."
From a pocket dimension, a blade emerged.
Miden.
A massive great sword dyed in absolute black, its surface swallowing light itself. The moment Aspen grasped its hilt, the mana within the arena shifted. Pressure descended like an unseen weight, the air growing thick, heavy, oppressive.
The crowd fell silent.
Aspen vanished.
"Sword Arts: Trigmid Sweeps."
He appeared directly in front of Tefold.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Each strike slammed into Tefold with dense, abyssal energy, the blows layered with crushing darkness that distorted the air itself.
When the dust settled—
Tefold stood unscarred.
He laughed.
"Did you really think a new toy would improve your chances?" His voice dripped with contempt. "Pathetic. A true warrior does not rely on weapons—but on his own strength and capability."
He glanced upward.
Crux met his gaze.
A single hand gesture.
Tefold inhaled deeply.
His scales ignited with blinding brilliance.
"Draconium Arts: Partial Dragonization."
His body expanded, scales spreading to cover every inch of exposed flesh. Claws burst forth, talons scraping stone as his size increased, mana exploding outward in violent waves.
The arena shook.
"Supreme Skill: Hyper Dragonic Burst."
All of his dispersed mana condensed into his fist.
Then—
He punched.
The impact twisted Aspen's abdomen unnaturally as blood erupted from his mouth. The sheer force launched him across the arena, crashing him into the inner wall. Stone collapsed, burying him beneath falling debris.
The dragonoids erupted in cheers.
Tenmaru leapt to his feet.
"ASPEN!!"
"Aspen is now immobile and—" Hen began, before being cut off as rubble shifted.
From the dust—
Aspen stood.
Barely.
Blood soaked his clothes, his body trembling as he forced himself upright.
Tefold stared at him, disbelief flickering across his face.
"Have you finally gone mad?" he demanded. "I don't want to kill you. Stand down. I'm being generous."
Aspen lifted his gaze.
"Do you know what makes a warrior?" he asked quietly.
"Yes," Tefold answered without hesitation.
"Strength. Capability."
Aspen shook his head.
"A warrior is compassionate. Determined. And most of all…"
He tightened his grip on Miden.
"A warrior never backs down."
His voice rose.
"I am Aspen Durack—Commander of the Demonic Army. What would my subordinates think of me if I surrendered?"
He took a step forward.
"A commander never backs down."
Another step.
"A commander never stops pushing."
His eyes burned with unwavering resolve.
"And a commander…"
The mana around him surged.
"Doesn't falter."