thief of fate-Chapter 69: First stage 2

Zenith planted his foot firmly into the ground, gripping his sword with both hands. His eyes never left Cairne for a moment, and his heart beat to a unique rhythm... not out of fear, but excitement. He felt that this opponent was different someone worthy of unleashing everything he had.

Cairne smiled again that confident, wicked smile, as if he knew something no one else did. Then he spoke in a calm but assured voice:

"You’re hiding a lot... but I’ll tear it out of you."

Zenith replied without changing his tone: "If you think you’ll beat me... you’re delusional."

Then it happened.

All at once, as if something exploded beneath his feet, a sudden shockwave burst out from him, pushing dust and gravel in a circle around him. The air crackled with electricity, the hair in the wind standing on end from the tension, and from his body surged a dark gray light like flame wrapping around his limbs and slowly rising from his shoulders.

Cairne’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t back down. He simply closed his eyes for a moment... then opened them, and the air around him shifted form.

Cairne’s aura erupted like a dark red fiery stream not like normal fire, but more like it burst out of a volcanic crack. The ground beneath his feet burned, and the gravel melted from the intensity.

From a distance, some spectators gathered those who had finished their fights or those who were too afraid to approach the major confrontations and looked toward the scene, a strange feeling brewing in their chests.

"Those two... aren’t human."

One of them said, hands trembling as he stared at the rising auras. Another responded in a low voice, "If there were monsters pretending to be human... it would be them."

Then the auras collided.

The ground quaked for a moment, and a massive shockwave exploded outward, pushing everyone nearby back. Dust flew, and cries echoed.

Zenith moved first. He no longer tried to conserve his strength or act cautiously; he unleashed everything. His movements became lightning-fast, every strike carrying killing intent, every step shaking the earth beneath it.

Cairne was no less. In fact, it seemed he had been waiting for this moment. He blocked blow after blow, then retaliated with attacks no less insane, his voice mixing with the screech of steel.

"This is what a real battle should be...!" Cairne shouted as he swung his sword in a circular arc, unleashing a wave of flame that stretched through the air.

Zenith stepped back, leapt over the flames, then spun in mid-air, his sword glowing with dense gray light, and descended toward Cairne’s chest with a force that could shatter bones.

They clashed.

Then exploded in opposite directions.

Cairne slid backward, his feet tearing through the ground, breathing slowly, his expression tense for the first time. He looked at his sword... a small crack in it.

As for Zenith, he landed near the edge, his shoulder bleeding, but he didn’t care.

"Are you starting to tremble?" he said mockingly, his voice laced with panting.

Cairne smiled, then wiped a finger across his mouth, where a thin line of blood dripped from the corner.

"No, I just... finally got excited."

Far away from them, Valerian was making his way through the fallen, his eyes on the girl he’d noticed earlier. She stood quietly, her sword tilted toward the ground, and her heart beat as if she were dancing in silence.

When he approached, she raised her head toward him. "Did you come to take the cards?" she asked calmly, without emotion.

"Yes." he replied plainly.

She gave him a scrutinizing look, then stepped forward and tossed him something small a single card.

He caught it, looked at it, then raised his eyes questioningly.

She said with a faint smile: "I’ll give you one... because I want to see you try to take the other by force."

Then she raised her sword, and her aura burst out suddenly... but it was calm.

Valerian’s heart trembled slightly. He didn’t know if it was from fear... or excitement.

I feel like I’m standing on the edge of a cliff...

He drew his dagger, gripped it tightly, and smiled lightly despite his ragged breaths. "As you wish..."

Then the fight began.

Breaths grew heavier.

Kairn stared at his opponent for a few moments, silent. He wasn’t retreating, but rather seemed to be preparing for something, his body brimming with a strange energy that didn’t resemble his usual aura.

"Alright then, Zenith... I’ll show you something I only reveal to those worthy of facing me."

He raised his sword high, then stabbed it into the ground in front of him. At first, nothing happened, except for a faint flash that passed over his body.

But in the next moment... whirlpools of heat erupted around him, as if the world itself was suffocating. The ground boiled, the air rippled, and gravity seemed heavier.

Kairn’s aura transformed.

It was no longer just flame... it became a dark crimson aura, woven with black threads pulsing along its edges. Something primal, closer to madness than fire.

He roared with a thunderous voice:

"This is my skill... Blood Ignition!"

Energy exploded from his body, as if a vein within him had ruptured, and his very blood surged through his veins like fuel, increasing his speed, strength, sharpness... But it was clear this wouldn’t last long; each second burned something precious from his body.

Kairn charged forward at incredible speed, a downward strike that nearly ripped the air apart. Zenith barely dodged it, but the sword cleaved the ground behind him like a giant axe, sending rocks and smoke flying.

Zenith was retreating, defending, but Kairn’s pressure kept rising strike after strike, no mercy, no pause. For a moment, it seemed Zenith would crumble under such violence.

Yet his eyes... never left Kairn.

He’s burning himself out... betting on time...

Then, without warning, Zenith slowed his steps, just a little... as if he had lost rhythm.

Kairn didn’t miss the chance, he lunged with a fierce scream, aiming his sword straight for Zenith’s chest, pouring all the remaining strength in his body into the blow.

But as the strike landed, calm eyes were already waiting.

Zenith... vanished for a moment, then reappeared behind Kairn, his sword steadily pointed at the center of his back.

It wasn’t a fast strike.

Nor was it a powerful one.

But it was a strike... with no escape.

The world fell silent for a moment.

Then drops of blood began to fall.

Kairn froze in place, his body trembling, and his sword slowly slipping from his grip.

Zenith turned around, not smiling, not celebrating. He simply said calmly:

"You are a strong opponent... if I hadn’t used that skill... I would’ve been finished here."

Then he reached out and took five cards tied in a leather belt around Kairn’s waist.

He stepped back steadily, his body bleeding from multiple places, but he did not fall. He was still standing just as befits warriors who don’t let defeat taint their dignity.

Kairn dropped to his knees, breathing sharply, his eyes blinking with difficulty. But inside, he wasn’t broken.

He was... alive.

This is it... this is the feeling he had missed.

He clenched the earth with his fist, then whispered hoarsely, barely audible:

"I’ll return... I’ll gather enough cards... and I’ll stand before you again, Zenith... next time..."

Then he collapsed to his side, unconscious... but with a faint smile on his lips.

King Yaram stood atop the high balcony, hands behind his back, his cloak swaying in the wind. He didn’t speak, didn’t flinch, his eyes following the dust as it slowly settled to reveal a single young man standing... his sword being sheathed slowly.

Zenith.

The king hadn’t known his name before today, but he didn’t need to. The battle was enough to etch his presence into memory.

Yaram spoke in a low voice, as if talking to himself:

"Is this... the one she spoke of?"

"There are those worth believing in... even if it means losing the whole world."

That young man didn’t just fight. He made his presence undeniable.

Everything about Zenith was solid—even his silence after victory. He didn’t scream, didn’t boast. He simply took what he needed and moved on.

A long silence passed before the king pointed his chin toward the battlefield:

"And that one?"

The king’s gaze fell upon another body that had collapsed... then moved.

Kairn.

His body turned slowly, his arms trembling as he pushed himself up. Blood still flowed from his side, and his face was pale, but his eyes... his eyes burned with a different fire.

Not the fire of defeat.

But the fire of resolve.

The king watched as he reached for his waist, counting the cards left... then moved. He didn’t head for the exit, but toward another point in the arena, searching, hunting, collecting.

The servant said hesitantly:

"Isn’t he supposed to surrender? He’s lost at least five cards."

But the king didn’t respond, he simply smiled faintly and said:

"Those who rise after defeat... are more dangerous than those who haven’t fallen yet."

Then he fell silent for a moment, and added with a confident tone:

"This place... forges warriors. But only a few... forge their future."

In the observation hall, Queen Illyria sat in her high seat.

When Kairn appeared again, walking forward with heavy steps, blood still dripping from his arm but dragging his body with unbreakable determination, the corner of the queen’s mouth lifted in a faint smile before she said in a confident tone, as if declaring a personal victory:

"That is Kairn..."

She raised her golden goblet and slowly swirled the wine inside.

"One of my fiercest warriors. He doesn’t break... doesn’t surrender... even when crushed."