Watching Juliana struggle to get back up from the floor, I breathed a quiet sigh.
I knew this would happen.
Yet, a small part of me had hoped she would just stay down and accept her defeat.
But apparently not.
Shaking my head, I stepped toward her.
She looked paler than usual, her fair complexion marred by smears of blood from open cuts and stab wounds — wounds I had no doubt she had inflicted upon herself.
Strands of her snowy-white hair clung to her damp, bloodied face. And her arms trembled weakly as she forced herself back onto her feet.
By now, the effects of her Enhancement Cards should have been wearing off.
And she had seen my strength. She knew she couldn’t match me in a direct fight.
Yet, despite the monumental odds stacked against her, she refused to stop. Refused to surrender. Refused to simply lay down.
“I admire your conviction, Juliana,” I said, before kicking her in the gut. She let out a stifled cry and tumbled across the ground.
“But believe it or not,” I continued, keeping my voice neutral. “I’m not your enemy here.”
“Fuck off!” she spat those words like she was spitting out venom and conjured yet another kunai out of nowhere.
Where the hell was she hiding all these knives?!
Without giving me a moment to react, she hurled it at my face.
And just as before, she used her innate power to accelerate the kunai’s speed, turning it into nothing more than a streak of light in my vision.
But once again, I was faster. Fast enough to react.
In fact, this time, I didn’t just dodge — I swatted the incoming blade aside with the back of my hand as if brushing away an annoying insect.
When I looked down, she was gone.
In that split second, she had retreated to put some safe distance between us. Rolling onto her feet, she quickly summoned two more Item Cards.
And in response, two swords materialized in her hands out of swirling light sparks — one was a katana and the other was a wakizashi.
Softly glowing runes shimmered along the length of the two blades as she took a low fighting stance, keeping the wakizashi close to her chest while raising the katana.
Ah. So she was going all out now.
Even in the game, Juliana rarely fought with two swords.
Even after she ascended to higher ranks, she never drew two blades unless it was absolutely necessary.
Unless she was hopelessly outmatched.
Because the technique she used when wielding two swords was her family’s sacred sword art, passed down through generations.
It was the last thing that connected her to the fallen Blade House.
Something her father never had the chance to teach her — yet she had learned it anyway, in his memory.
It was called Two Heavens As One.
I exhaled another sigh, shaking my head as I met her gaze.
Her face was twisted with pain and resentment.
Juliana had watched her father die when she was just a child. Watched the crowd cheer as his severed head hit the ground.
She had watched her family being slaughtered — her brothers, her sisters, the entire Blade House reduced to corpses.
By the time that massacre was over, she had been bathed in their blood.
Her mind had shut itself off to survive, sealing away the weight of her grief and the depth of her despair.
It was mentioned and hinted in the game, time and time again, that Juliana could not experience emotions the way normal people did.
Because if she had the ability to feel, she’d have to feel the pain of losing everyone.
Sure, she could still feel the thrill of a hunt.
The satisfaction of manipulating someone.
The pride of executing a perfect plan.
The heart-pounding rush of taking a life.
But love? Hate? Fear?
All those emotions were muted. Distant.
Not absent, but hazy. It was as if she were experiencing them through layers of fog — faint echoes of sensations rather than the real thing.
However, as I looked at her now, I had no doubt that the resentment on her face was entirely genuine. It was an extremely rare moment for her.
…But unfortunately, she wouldn’t get the chance to act on her hate today.
Because before she could take even a single step toward me—
“ARGHHAAA!”
A deep, guttural groan thundered in the room.
Juliana stiffened and turned her head.
I did the same, already knowing what I’d see.
Several feet away, a man slowly straightened up while clutching the right side of his face. Blood dripped down his cheek from the gaping hole where his right eye used to be.
His body was covered in wounds — cuts and gashes and bruises that should have kept him down — but somehow, he was still standing.
More than likely, it was thanks to his B-rank physique.
His remaining eye glowed hazel and locked onto us with boundless rage.
His once soft facial features, which had given him a youthful, almost charming appearance, were now twisted and rough and wicked.
It wouldn’t have taken a genius to guess that he wanted us dead, as evident by the senseless bloodlust he was emanating.
Juliana shifted her stance, turning her swords away from me and toward him.
“H-How?” she muttered.
Then, in the next second, realization dawned on her.
Essence Circulation.
Every B-ranker could move Essence through their body to enhance their physical prowess. But that wasn’t all Essence could do.
It could also be used to perform supernatural martial techniques, suppress pain and exhaustion, or even accelerate healing at higher ranks.
But what Rexerd had done went beyond that — he had used Essence Circulation to move the toxins in his bloodstream to a single part of his body.
It wasn’t something unheard of. In fact, it was a fundamental poison resistance technique, taught to every Cadet in the elite Awakened academies as soon as they reached B-rank.
But that technique was designed for ordinary poisons, not numbing toxins. Because if your body was numb, you wouldn’t be able to sense the flow of Essence, let alone efficiently circulate it.
And yet, Rexerd had done exactly that.
For all his flaws, he was undeniably a genius.
A shame, really.
If his potential weren’t capped at B-rank, if he had been born with a higher Soul Rank potential, he might have achieved something great in life.
And an even bigger shame that he had to die today — because in the inevitable war against the Spirit King, a talent like his would’ve been invaluable.
I sighed for the third and final time today.
Rexerd staggered forward, his breath ragged, his good eye burning with murderous intent.
“You… little… bastards!” his voice was a low, vicious gasp.
Then, all of a sudden, a deep blue aura exploded from his body, twisting the air as it coiled and writhed like a living creature.
The sheer intensity of it made the atmosphere hum and vibrate with raw power.
The energy swirled above him, gathering, coalescing — taking the form of a figure. A man.
…Or something shaped like a man, at least.
It was a summoned creature.
A spirit.
Its entire body was woven from light, translucent yet impossibly solid at the same time. It had no face, only the vague outline of a hooded figure draped in flowing robes. A tome hung from a strap slung across its chest, its cover glowing faintly.
Everything about it — its garments, its flesh, even the tome on its chest — was made of radiant energy, ethereal and untouchable, yet carrying an undeniable presence.
The spirit landed softly on the ground, placing itself between its summoner and us.
From behind it, Rexerd lifted a trembling finger to first point at Juliana then at me.
His voice shook with fury when he spoke. “Kill them! Kill them both! Tear them limb from limb and bring me their heads!”