Crimson: born as noble lived as phantom

The shockwave from our initial clash ripped through the corridor, pulverizing the marble floor into white dust.

I skidded backward, the fated sword of that man humming violently in my hands. Pushing 90% of my raw phantom mana through the steel was exhilarating, but my chest heaved as I stared through the smoke. Standing unaffected at the center of the debris was Sage Rigger. His golden, holy aura blazed with the calm, immovable authority of a literal god.

"A nameless phantom," Rigger murmured, his sharp eyes locking onto the crimson glow behind my faceless mask. "A masked anomaly that should have been erased from history. Who exactly are you, and what business do you have inside this palace?"

"You talk too much for a holy man," I spat back, my distorted voice echoing through the ruins.

I didn't give him a chance to respond. Pushing off my heels with explosive phantom agility, I blurred across the distance. I unleashed a rapid, multi-directional flurry of strikes, my black-coated blade cutting lines of dark mana through the air.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

The metallic screech of our weapons was deafening. To my astonishment, I was matching him blow for blow. My fifteen-year-old body, supercharged by the ancient bloodline and wielding a weapon forged specifically for my lineage, was reacting with flawless instinct. We traded a dozen lethal exchanges in a single breath. Every time my blade sought his vitals, his golden dagger parried it with pinpoint military precision. For a brilliant, fleeting moment, the phantom and the Sage were standing on completely equal ground.

Then, the air grew heavy.

"Amusing," Rigger whispered, his golden aura suddenly flaring with a suffocating, blinding intensity. "But a fake card can never match a true chosen saint."

He stopped holding back.

The physical pressure radiating from his body tripled in an instant. Rigger lunged, his speed expanding beyond what my crimson eyes could track. Puchi! The tip of his holy dagger sliced cleanly across my shoulder, the divine element burning my flesh. I violently twisted backward to dodge the follow-up, but he was already in my blind spot. A magic-reinforced fist slammed squarely into my ribs, launching me through a stone pillar.

I crashed into the rubble, coughing up a spray of blood. My vision blurred. He was too fast, too efficient. The sheer volume of his divine mana was a fortress I couldn't break through with sword skills alone.

Through my mask's optic display, a red warning light flashed from the adjacent courtyard. The remaining Nemesis assassins were closing in on the injured Princess Quina. I was out of time. If I didn't break this stalemate right now, the princess would die, and I would be captured by the incoming reinforcements.

I forced myself onto one knee, clutching my chest. It was time for a desperate, final gamble.

DEATH’S GAMBIT.

The spectral deck manifested within my soul, the cards spinning rapidly as I locked my bleeding eyes onto the approaching Sage. I placed my 30-second bet, mapping the outcomes:

It wasn't a guess; it was an absolute psychological trap. A proud, world-level Sage facing a bleeding, broken fifteen-year-old masked intruder wouldn't waste time with words or long-range parlor tricks. He would walk straight forward to crush the bug beneath his boot.

Sure enough, Rigger raised his dagger, his eyes cold as ice as he sprinted directly toward me, aiming his blade straight for my throat.

Flash.

he spectral card of the King of Spades materialized and violently shattered in front of my face.

An apocalyptic torrent of supreme mana violently erupted from my core. The sheer weight of the King’s authority exploded outward, creating a massive, pitch-black vortex that instantly neutralized the holy golden light in the room. The stone floor beneath us collapsed under the gravity of the dark energy.

Rigger’s eyes widened in sheer disbelief as his advance was violently ground to a halt. The massive power gap he relied on was instantaneously erased.

"What… what is this pressure?!" the Sage roared, gritting his teeth as he forced his body through the suffocating black mana.

I stood up completely straight, my  sword blazing with a towering pillar of black phantom fire. "This is the end of the line."

We lunged at each other at the exact same millisecond.

BOOOOOOOOOOM!

The collision of the King’s supreme mana and Rigger’s fully unleashed holy divinity created a cataclysmic explosion that blew the remaining walls of the palace wing entirely to pieces. We were locked in a terrifying tie, our blades grinding against each other, emitting blinding sparks of gold and black. Neither of us could push the other back. The sheer friction of our mana was tearing our clothes and cracking our skin. It was an absolute, unbreakable deadlock.

BZZZZT.

A sudden, sharp mechanical hum echoed right above our heads.

High in the smoke-filled sky, one of Grim’s miniature eagle drones violently flared with a bright, runic silver light. The old craftsman wasn't just watching through the lenses—he was actively monitoring the power output of the battle from his hidden hut. Recognizing that his fated pawn was fated to lose a prolonged battle of attrition, Grim remotely triggered a hidden mechanism built into the drone.

POP! THUD!

A massive, specialized metallic canister shot downward from the drone's belly, detonating precisely between Rigger and me.

It wasn't a standard explosive. The canister violently erupted into a massive tangle of thick, glowing silver chains that instantly wrapped around Sage Rigger’s body like a swarm of metallic vipers. The chains hummed with a highly familiar, suffocating energy.

Anti-magic extraction seals.

It was the exact legendary mechanism Grim had invented for the kingdom's high-security prisons, heavily modified to restrain a god-tier entity. The moment the silver chains tightened around Rigger's armor, his golden holy aura was violently, forcibly suppressed, sealing his mana channels and pinning his muscular frame firmly to the shattered floor.

"Aggggh! What… what is this mechanical filth?!" Rigger shrieked, his veins bulging as he desperately tried to snap the constraints, but his god-like strength was completely locked away.

A mechanical click sounded from my mask's ear interface. Grim's raspy voice crackled through the comms. "Listen well, boy. Those anti-magic chains were built in a hurry. They can only hold a monster of his caliber for precisely five minutes. Execute your escape now, or you're dead."

Bleeding and panting, I lowered my sword. Three hundred seconds. That was all the time I had left.

I turned away from the bound, roaring Sage and sprinted toward the courtyard where Quina's elven sword was glowing in the dark. The final act of the night had officially begun.

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!