“Did you think I’d halt my progress just because a few old fellows who lurk within those cities ordered me to?” Rol’an inquired with a sinister grin, the desert ground beneath him lazily being engulfed by black cascading flames.

“I suppose not, but don’t try to pretend like their suppression was little…”

“Oh of course not, because of them I could hardly breathe without feeling like I was choking,” Rol’an extended out his reach, his bloody sword in hand. “However… things are different now. I’m no longer bound by their rules and have even acquired several bits of powerful inheritance.”

“Inheritance? Is that what you thought those were?” Androma chortled out as he paused to explain through mocking laughs, “Those so-called ‘inheritance’ were merely the leftover scraps that a past Lord tossed aside, not fearing the repercussions. After all, why would they? There are set rules that us wielders of Mir must abide, but the amount you’ve gained is minuscule…”

“You lie!” The demonic Borun shouted, his voice shaking through the air. “You’ll come to fear this power that I’ve adapted together with my own bloodlust, forging an extremely terrifying strength. You’ll be the first to die, followed by that other weakling!”

“Weakling?” This had caught Androma off-guard as he let out a low-toned sigh, “You don’t know what you’re stepping into… you see yourself becoming more powerful? Wrong, instead you’ll merely be bound by even more terrifying foes and even those primal demons who lurk out of sight.”

Unafraid, Rol’an dashed forward once again with his sword and struck down toward Androma, slamming the blade against his grey-fleshed arm.

A rupturing crash sounded as the sword collided with his arm, which, unusually, hadn’t shattered or broken off upon impact.

Androma fixed his expression onto his enemy as he shoved his arm out, pushing Rol’an away with great strength. As the blood sword flew through the air, the sight of a massive scar could be seen carved down his arm, even approaching his wrist. Yet, however, there hadn’t even been a single drop of blood.

“Ah, so that’s what your sword does…” Androma murmured out as he clenched his arm, forcing his own grey aura into the wound in an attempt to speed up the healing process. “It’s a shame I don’t have any remedies on me.”

“How was that? Did you enjoy that slash? It seems my blade found your blood delicious, if not a bit strangely colored,” Rol’an boomed out as he extended his sword outward, pointing it straight at Androma.

The tip of the blade glimmered and bubbled as a scalding hot crimson liquid dripped off of it, sizzling upon impact as the drops hit the ground.

“This sword was explicitly created to strengthen me while weakening my enemy… to devour their blood and turn it into my own power…“ Rol’an lowered the blade to his side as he continued, “You’re right about one thing… my power may be archaic now, but that will soon change once this weapon feasts upon you. I shall turn your own blood into energy, acquiring your Mir with it. Can you imagine it? Becoming a part of me, your own vigor being used to regenerate my vitality.”

“You plan to take my Mir?” Androma repeated, obviously surprised at this news. He let go of his arm as the wound seemed to have been healed, leaving no trace of it even being injured in the first place.

“This is good… I was beginning to get bored, especially after seeing how slow you moved…”

Androma’s arm stretched out as that grey liquid formed and expanded quickly, jumping from the edges of his fingertips onto the ground. It bubbled again, manifesting power as a single fine-pointed polearm rose into the air.

“That’s the Pendulum, isn’t it?” Clearly having recognized his weapon, Rol’an inquired, hoping to receive confirmation before approaching.

The Pendulum had been a legendary weapon wielded by the master of crows, an infamous individual. Wielding the Pendulum, he had been able to silently slash apart an entire army, rendering an enemies’ plot mute.

The polearm formed from a single piece of grey and black metal, casting upward an array of neutral colors and undulations. It was as if this weapon balanced perfectly within the middle of light and darkness, allowing it’s master the power to harness both at will.

Using the strength of darkness, the Pendulum would melt into its surroundings as the powerful undulations hid, removing all presence and allowing the wielder to approach even the most vigilant foes without notice.

However, harnessing the might of it’s lighter side allowed the Pendulum to ignite, unleashing a terrifying storm of murderous intent as the weapon didn’t restrain anything, as it had no need to.

It was the perfect embodiment of the balance of the sun and moon. In one stage, the world would be cast in light, scaring away even the most heinous of darknesses, however, the opposite was also true.

Androma smirked as the Pendulum swung easily in his grasp, “I forged this Pendulum with the aid of a true friend. It holds not only her intent but mine as well. To walk within the light when needed, while being willing to embrace the darkness as well. Your blood-dipped sword may be strong, but even that is lacking…”

“How dare you!” Rol’an erupted, squeezing the grip of his blade firmly. “You, who relies upon old legends and long-past power to fight, I shall show you what sort of a fool you have become.”

Saying that Rol’an stepped forward, the ground beneath him slowly breaking away as his body burned of black violent flames, erupting out from all around him. His very soul was raging out. The blood-craving sword he wielded slowly bubbled as he braced the hilt.

He dashed forward again, moving to strike at Androma’s chest, causing his pale-skinned opponent to dash backward, lifting his own polearm into the air to block.

A heavy collision rang as the two weapons smacked together, Rol’an’s back leg dug deep into the ground as he continued weighing his own weapon down against the polearm.

“You think you can defeat me with mere brute strength?” Rol’an chuckled as Androma’s grip slowly faded, the two weapons closing in on his body. In response, Androma made the sacrifice and twisted his weapon down, hoping to disarm both himself and Rol’an in a single moment.

“Ugh!” Androma grunted as his arm heaved down, striking the point of his polearm firmly against the ground. As he did this, his body dashed backward, now unarmed as his and Rol’an’s weapon sat engraved into the desert, slowly being overtaken by the black sand.

“Allow me to show you the true power of Mir, not that archaic half-attempt that you possess!” Androma’s expression finally changed as his uninterested smirk turned into a grin, his teeth showed, revealing a maniacal king beneath. “Let all energy return to nothing, absorbed into the vast empty space and becoming one with the grey universe!”

The heavy energy that flowed around him quickly changed as his arms swung to the side, forming what appeared to be two massive wings made of that grey liquid behind him. The liquid slowly morphed as Rol’an jumped several spaces backward, obviously on guard. That didn’t stop him from eagerly watching, however, as anything that related to Mir fascinated him to an almost obsessive level.

“Darkness forms with light, becoming absolute calm!” His liquid wings dissipated into mist almost as soon as they appeared. A devastating grey mist spread in the air, encompassing the desert and even parts of the tower.

Under the pressure of this mist, the front of the tower slowly decayed and dissolved, leaving a vulnerable point in the side. The desert sand itself wasn’t fairing much better, as the battlefield slowly became a large crater, lowering further and further into the ground as only Androma and Rol’an remained within.

“This power… w-what is this?” Deus murmured to himself as he watched, he had fortunately been high enough where the mist didn’t pierce, perhaps that was intentional.

Evelien shrugged in response as if seeing this was an odd norm for her. “This is the true power that Rol’an sought, only now he’s being forced to survive under its absolute weight. Perhaps I should rethink my opinion of him, as not only did he manage to push the master to this point, but he even has survived up until this point…”

Glancing down, she had been surprised to say the least as she watched Rol’an, he had been pushed down by the power of the mist, slowly having chunks of his own flesh fizzle apart, dissolving his very body.

“I had thought I would’ve been enough to kill him… which was why I had been so troubled at the fact that the master was intervening himself… but I suppose it makes sense now. I wouldn’t have lasted as long as he has, so I doubt I could've defeated him with all of that stamina he's built up.”

Deus had been shocked at the calmness in her voice as if this sight was normal.

He had seen and even fought against a midnight centipede, so he understood just how dangerous they were. Which was why he was so confused when he heard there were people who could single-handedly kill them. He thought that fact to be impossible, simply overstated for effect.

Now, however, he finally understood why these people were so legendary. This fight would’ve ended with him dying a hundred times over, but for them, it was as if they were only playing around.

Even Rol’an losing chunks of his flesh at a time seemed to only cause a slight discomfort as he persevered through the mist, standing there calmly with his bloody sword returned to his grasp. Even Androma seemed surprised at this fact, as he believed the mist would’ve dealt with him already.

The world before them both had turned completely greyscale, vanquishing even the ever-present crimson sky that typically burned overhead. It was quite clear to Deus at that moment that this power was the one power to rule everything, the power of a king.

‘No wonder those Territory Lords are unstoppable… if even their followers possess this level, I’d be terrified to face anyone stronger…’