Kalon did not move to dodge, as he knew the strike was too fast to get out of the way.
Instead, he stood still, prepared his body, and let the Cross Slash hit him.
The red X slammed into his chest and carved deep. Pain exploded through his body as the skill tore across his skin and muscle.
Blood sprayed outward in an X shape. The force threw him back several steps, boots dragging through the dirt.
For a moment his vision went completely white and the sound of the crowd vanished.
Gasps and shouts erupted around the circle from the spectators.
Josinia’s hands flew to her mouth.
Several resistance fighters leaned forward as if ready to rush in.
Glorian’s lips curled into a satisfied smile.
He had expected the human to drop immediately. The fact that Kalon was still on his feet at all was already more than he had predicted, but the wounds looked deep enough to finish the fight soon.
Kalon wiped blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. The cuts across his chest were deep and burning, the flesh was open in long lines. Blood ran down his stomach and soaked into the waistband of his pants.
Yet the injuries were not fatal.
His health had only dropped from 200 → 95 and was slowly decreasing.
Glorian’s attributes had been dragged down hard by Deep Sea Pressure and Bully Breaker.
The same skill that should have ended the duel in one clean blow had only wounded him severly.
He could still move.
Kalon straightened slowly. Blood continued to drip from the open cuts.
Meanwhile, Glorian was busy boasting to the crowd, making a speech that Kalon couldn’t quite hear properly.
So, Kalon took advantage of the situation and activated one his skills for the first time.
Photon Slash.
A massive blade of pure, concentrated light erupted along the edge of his hand and outward into the air.
It was not a small edge of energy. It was a giant, roaring slash of white-gold light that was ten metres long, so bright that many in the crowd had to shield their eyes from it.
The air around it warped and hummed with SSS power.
Glorian’s eyes widened as he noticed the skill. His speech stopped immediately and was swiftly forgotten by the listeners.
He tried to bring his sword up and step back at the same time, but there was no defending such a strike. Not without the affinites to go against it.
Kalon stepped in and swung.
The giant light blade carved through the air with a sound like tearing silk amplified a hundred times.
It hit Glorian’s right leg just above the knee and passed through without resistance. Flesh, muscle, and bone was separated in a single clean motion, ignoring the strengthened steel body.
The severed leg dropped to the dirt with a heavy, wet thud, still wearing its boot.
Blood erupted from the open wound, painting the ground dark red.
Glorian’s roar of pure pain spread throughout the entire city. He fell sideways, sword falling from his fingers, both hands desperately grabbing at the ruined leg as if he could hold the blood in.
His face filled with shock and unbearable pain.
He stared at the place where his leg had been, then at the limb lying a short distance away, as if his mind refused to accept what had just happened.
The entire crowd went dead silent for a full second.
Then the noise returned all at once. Shouts, gasps, someone screaming, others talking over each other in disbelief.
Several people turned their faces away from the sight of the severed leg, afraid of the gore.
Josinia stood frozen, eyes locked on the blood spreading across the dirt.
Kalon walked forward slowly, still bleeding heavily from the deep cuts on his own chest.
Each step left a small red print behind him.
He stopped in front of the fallen knight and looked down at him.
Glorian’s breathing was fast and uncontrolled. He forced himself to look up at the human who had just taken his leg.
"I’m sparing you," Kalon said. His voice was calm and clear enough for everyone nearby to hear. "One leg is not enough to ruin you as a fighter. You can still be of use to the resistance. Learn to fight on what you have left and get a prosthetic."
Glorian stared up at him, face pale and eyes wide. His mouth opened, but the only sound that came out was another groan of pain as more blood pulsed from the stump.
Kalon turned away.
He walked out of the circle without looking back.
The crowd parted for him without question. Some stared at the blood running in streams down his chest and stomach. Others could not stop staring at Glorian on the ground, missing a leg, still clutching the wound.
No one tried to stop the human from leaving.
Josinia pushed through the people and caught up to him quickly, eyes wide with panic.
"Your chest, Kalon, those cuts are deep... you’re losing too much blood!"
"I’ll live," he said. "It’s done."
He kept walking toward the palace.
Word of the result moved faster than he did.
By the time he reached the palace gates, guards were already stepping aside without being told. The halls inside were filled with gossip that went quiet the moment he passed.
Blood continued to drip from his open cuts onto the stone floor, leaving a trail behind him.
Princess Unestia was waiting in the main hall.
She stood near the raised seat, dressed in the same deep red gown as earlier, and biting her finger nervously. Her black hair fell loose over one shoulder.
When she saw him enter, shirtless, covered in blood with the deep Cross Slash wounds still open and wet across his chest, her pink eyes went wide.
Kalon stopped a few steps in front of her and gave a short nod.
"It’s finished. Glorian is alive, but he won’t challenge anyone again for a long time. I am the victor."
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