CHAPTER 286: THE DANCE OF STEEL AND BLOOD

Carl had stopped Seid’s horizontally swinging mana blade by crossing his two swords like scissors.

If he had blocked it normally, his swords would have shattered, and his head would already be rolling on the ground.

But in that fleeting instant, Carl made the smallest possible angle between his swords, pushing with his right hand while simultaneously raising his left-hand sword in the opposite direction.

To compensate for his inevitable lack of raw strength, he even supported the sword with his left arm.

Against a mana blade, the weapon of an ordinary mana user was no different from a rotting branch—useless.

Yet, Seid had swung his sword honestly, without unnecessary flourishes.

And Carl had responded in kind.

Seid’s black sword slipped into the narrow gap between Carl’s crossed blades, slicing through the mana-infused steel with ruthless precision. The twin swords, now compromised, began to give way, their edges splitting under the immense force of the Mana Blade. Yet, Carl didn’t falter. Instead, he subtly angled his blades, allowing the Mana Blade to bite deeper, stretching the surface it had to cut.

In that fleeting moment, Carl shifted his grip and drove his sword further into the Mana Blade, minimizing the damage. Still, the Master’s power was overwhelming. Carl’s legs buckled slightly under the force. His wrists snapped with a sickening crunch. The supporting arm, which he had braced against the sword, was flayed open as the Mana Blade chewed through flesh and bone. Blood sprayed in a crimson arc, painting the ground in violent splatters.

Seid’s blade kissed Carl’s throat—a shallow cut, barely the depth of a finger joint. But it was enough to send a warm mist of blood into the air, clinging to the shimmering Mana Blade like morning dew.

Carl’s vision blurred slightly, but his mind remained cold and clear. His chest heaved with ragged breaths, yet he didn’t step back. He couldn’t. This was a gamble he had prepared for—a single chance he had spent months perfecting in secret. Even Gilbert’s book had offered no guidance on fighting a Master; it was unthinkable for an ordinary mana user to even consider it. But Carl wasn’t ordinary.

He had honed his monstrous physical abilities and violent, ever-growing mana to block a Master’s strike once—just once. It was reckless. Absurd, even. Yet, he had clung to the insane idea.

Now, with his swords reduced to mangled stumps and his body on the brink of collapse, Carl still stood. His eyes, void of emotion, locked onto Seid with unyielding resolve.

Then, in the same heartbeat that Carl’s arms began to falter, Jaren’s spear hurtled through the air. It sliced past Carl’s right ear, its tip gleaming with a vicious glint, and flew straight for Siana’s skull.

Siana didn’t even notice.

But Seid did. Without hesitation, he dropped his sword, sacrificing his attack on Carl. He lunged toward Siana, his bare hand flashing up to intercept the spear.

Crack!

The spear slammed into Seid’s palm with bone-shattering force. Though he wrapped mana around his hand to protect it, the impact still mangled his fingers into a twisted, bloody mess. The spear’s momentum faltered, but it veered off-course only slightly.

Jaren’s aim had been true—it was just fate that shifted its path. The spear missed Siana’s head by mere inches, instead carving a gruesome line through Seid’s left shoulder and deep into his chest.

"Gah!" Siana gasped, finally realizing the danger she had just escaped.

Frantic, she fumbled with the human-faced leather book, her hands trembling. The pages fluttered violently, black light flickering from the remaining sheets.

But before she could act—

BOOM!

Catherine, who had been shoving Carl aside with all her strength, was suddenly engulfed in a wave of black light meant for him. Her body was hurled back with bone-jarring force, crashing to the ground in a heap.

Jaren, barely standing with his ribs stabbing into his insides, staggered forward. His vision swam with blood and pain, but he swung his spear once more.

Seid, despite his wounds, twisted his body at the last moment, narrowly avoiding the blow.

Thud!

Billford and Diline’s swords drove into Seid’s back, piercing him through. Blood spurted violently from the deep wounds.

"No!" Siana’s scream rang out—a raw, desperate wail.

Carl, in the chaos, swung his ruined blades with grim determination. His mangled hands gripped the hilts with unyielding force. He struck not at Seid, nor Siana, but at the book.

The black light flared violently as the blades—sharpened into jagged edges by the Mana Blade—tore into the cursed tome. The impact sent shards of steel and shredded pages flying in all directions.

The book, the very thing Siana had gambled everything on, was reduced to ruined leather and scattered parchment.

For a fleeting moment, the battlefield fell into eerie silence.

Carl’s legs buckled. His body swayed. His vision blurred into darkness.

---

He drifted.

A swirling storm of black clouds enveloped him.

Through the deluge, he saw towering figures emerging from the mist—colossal shapes, far larger than any man. The ground shook with their strides, and the rain pounded in heavy sheets.

And yet, amid the chaos, there stood a lone man.

Human. Small. Fragile.

Yet, the warriors behind him called out a name with a fury that made the earth tremble.

Carl couldn’t make out the name, but it reverberated through the storm, over and over again.

The man stood firm, gripping a spear in his right hand. With a single, resolute motion, he raised it high and pointed it forward.

The storm split.

The wind stilled.

The rain ceased.

The sky opened, sunlight flooding the world with golden warmth. The once-raging tempest was reduced to nothing but a gentle breeze.

There was no sound. No clash of steel. No cry of war.

Only silence.

And in that radiant calm, the man turned.

His face was obscured, blurred by light. His voice was distant, incomprehensible. Yet, the warmth in his eyes was unmistakable.

Carl recognized that gaze—the longing, the ache of familiarity.

The man smiled softly, and Carl’s chest tightened with a sudden, unbearable sorrow.

The man parted his lips, uttering a name Carl couldn’t quite hear.

But he knew.

He knew the name.

He missed the smile that accompanied it—the memory of it a dull ache in his chest.

And then, the vision faded.

The storm dissolved into sunlight.

And Carl fell into darkness.