The air inside the black-walled estate trembled.

Dust and embers drifted through the faint candlelight as two figures faced each other in the heart of the shattered hall — Noah, standing still with his silver cane pressed lightly against the marble floor, and Orange, grinning with eyes that gleamed like molten copper beneath his unkempt hair.

For a moment, neither moved.

Only the crackle of distant fire and the faint sound of Amy's chains swaying above broke the silence.

Then —

Bang.

A gunshot tore through the air.

Noah pivoted his body to the right. The bullet sliced past his cheek, grazing skin before embedding into the pillar behind him. His silver cane extended with a smooth metallic click, the inner mechanism shifting as the weapon became a slender spear. He didn't flinch.

Orange laughed, spinning one of his floating pistols around his finger before letting it hover beside him. A dozen more appeared with a faint shimmer of golden light — each formed from runic glyphs that pulsed like circuitry in the air.

"Let's see how long you can dance, Machiavelli!"

The air erupted into chaos.

Orange snapped his fingers. The guns began firing in bursts, each round a flash of blue flame. Noah spun his spear in a spiral arc, deflecting bullets that came within an inch of him, the weapon moving like a silver blur. Every deflection sent sparks scattering, lighting up the gloom in rhythmic bursts of light.

Orange darted forward, sliding across the marble floor with a fluid motion as he drew two handguns into his palms. His cloak flared behind him like the wings of a burning bird as he fired at point-blank range.

Noah twisted, spear shaft bending as he parried one shot, then dropped low to sweep at Orange's legs.

The butler leaped, kicking off a shattered chair, spinning midair as his twin pistols fired downward.

Each shot thundered, the recoil echoing like drumbeats.

Noah raised his gauntleted arm — the runes on his bracer flickered, absorbing the impact of two bullets before the gauntlet emitted a crackling discharge that split the third bullet midair. His left hand shot out, gripping his spear again and thrusting upward.

Clang!

Orange's guns met the spear mid-spin, deflecting the thrust. The two locked eyes for an instant — predator and predator.

"Still the same," Orange muttered. "Always surviving when you should've died."

Noah didn't respond. His gaze was cold and calculative.

The battle blurred.

Noah lunged, spear tracing silver arcs in the air. Orange twisted around the strikes, his steps light and unpredictable. Every time the spear missed by a hair, a gun would snap from the air to his hand, firing with unerring timing. Noah blocked one, rolled under another, deflected the next with the shaft, and countered with a jab so fast it split the air.

The two collided again, sparks raining as steel met gunmetal.

"You really think you can win?" Orange laughed, sliding back.

"You, who ruined everything?"

He raised his hand as a ripple of energy surged outward.

The air thickened and dozens of rifles materialized in a perfect circle around Noah, suspended like an iron halo.

The guns fired simultaneously.

Noah's eyes widened for the first time.

He thrust his spear downward, using the impact to catapult himself upward. Bullets chased him through the air, streaks of blue flame trailing behind.

He landed on a balcony beam, cloak fluttering, spear spinning once before anchoring into the wood beside him.

The next instant, Noah was gone.

He dropped down, vanishing into the shadow below. Orange's eyes darted around and then—

CRACK!

Noah shot from the darkness like a cannonball, spear lunging toward his chest. Orange barely crossed his guns in time to block, skidding back across the hall floor. The impact sent a ripple of dust and energy outward, rattling every window.

"Why are you so persistent?!" Orange shouted, firing wildly to push Noah back.

"This world wasn't meant for you!"

Noah's voice was calm, unwavering.

"Then why do I bleed when I'm cut?

Why do I breathe like anyone else?

You call this your world, but you've lost control of it."

Orange's grin faltered for the briefest second.

Noah pressed forward.

He moved faster and sharper. His strikes became unpredictable, rhythm broken deliberately. Spear feints turned into kicks, parries flowed into sweeps. He wasn't fighting for dominance instead he was adapting and dissecting Orange's combat style mid-fight.

Then —

A single bullet grazed his shoulder.

Blood sprayed...multiple shots were fired at him and each landed as an explosion occured.

As the smoke cleared top half of Noah's clothes were gone and burnt.

His back was now visible as it showed runic tattoos among with other scars on his ipper body.

Runes activated with dull red light. His aura warped the air.

Orange's eyes widened.

The glow intensified.

The runes burned crimson, shaping into ancient patterns that encircled the back of his body. The air shimmered, and the spear in his hand began to hum its silver surface now streaked with black veins of energy.

A low hum filled the hall. Then — silence.

When Noah moved next, he wasn't there. He was a blur of red and black energy crossing the floor, each step faster than sight.

Bullets tore through the space where he'd been a heartbeat ago but missed.

Another volley... dodged. Sparks and smoke followed his trail, and suddenly the spear met its mark, slicing across Orange's chest in a flash.

Orange staggered back, clutching the wound. His grin returned, wilder.

"Ahahaha… that's it! That's what I wanted to see!

The anomaly that shouldn't exist!"

He raised both hands, and more guns appeared hundreds this time, forming a storm of steel.

Noah exhaled once. His aura flared.

The bullets fired.

He moved through them like a phantom. Each deflection was a blur of precision — spear spinning in tight circles, redirecting projectiles midair, splitting them into sparks that fell like glowing ash. One bullet grazed his cheek, another brushed past his shoulder, and then Noah was inside the storm — within striking distance.

Their eyes met again.

Orange's grin faltered for the last time.

Noah spun, spear glowing red, thrusting it forward with all his weight. The spear pierced through the swirling wall of guns, striking deep into Orange's chest. The energy burst from the weapon, red lightning scattering through the air as the rifles and pistols shattered into fragments of light.

Orange staggered, coughing faintly... blood on his lips but smiling still.

"Of course… it was you," he muttered, voice trembling with laughter.

"You...the thief who took my world....and now...I'll take what you've built up until now..."

Noah spoke, "What are you talking about..."

Orange chuckled one last time.

"It's too late now.

The world knows who you are… Machiavelli."

Noah's pupils narrowed.

"What?"

Orange's voice broke into laughter — wild, triumphant, despairing.

"Check the news when you get out. You're no ghost anymore."

His body slumped to the ground, the light fading from his orange eyes.

The room went silent except for the faint flicker of flames along the ruined walls.

Noah stood still for a long time, the red glow fading from his runes. Slowly, the aura dissipated. The spear retracted into its cane form, clicking softly as it folded back. He looked toward Amy — still chained, still unconscious — and exhaled deeply.

He raised his hand and cut the chains with a flick of chrome energy. Amy's body fell gently into his arm.

Her hair — that soft, sky-blue — brushed against his cheek.

He whispered under his breath, almost too softly to hear, "It's over."

He stepped out of the hall.

Outside, dozens of knights in blue armor surrounded the estate. Lord Bluerose stood at the front, barking orders. "Clear the perimeter! Find my daughter! Bring the wounded out!"

The gates creaked open. Dust swirled.

Every soldier turned as a lone figure emerged shirtless, shoulder bleeding, long black hair loose and glinting faintly under the torchlight. In one arm he carried Amy Bluerose over his shoulder unconscious but alive. In the other, he held a silver cane... its head glinting faintly under the moonlight.

Lord Bluerose's eyes widened.

"Noah…"

The man walked closer, silent, eyes unreadable behind strands of hair.

The knights parted instinctively, unsure whether to salute or step back. Even in exhaustion, his presence carried weight.

Lord Bluerose's gaze dropped to the cane. Recognition hit him like a blade.

His voice cracked slightly.

"Noah…" the Lord whispered again, disbelief flooding his tone.

"You're Machiavelli?"