The sun still shone brightly in the sky, and Chiacchera stood at the center of the arena, ready to announce the final fighters of the day, with Pinusal at her side.
"Ladies and gentlemen, we have now reached the final match of this brief second and concluding day of the preliminaries of the Tournament of the Golden Trees! As I'm sure you've noticed, today's matches have been extremely quick, which means we'll be finishing before lunchtime. As a result, there will be no official lunch break—but don't worry, both the cafeteria and the food stalls outside the arena will remain open," Chiacchera began.
She then leaned slightly forward, her voice taking on a more playful tone.
"But I imagine that's not what you're interested in, is it? What you truly want to know is the identity of the two fighters who will face off in this final match of the day…"
She paused for dramatic effect, giving the audience time to react.
Part of the crowd responded with an enthusiastic "YES!!!"
But another portion remained completely silent, their expressions dark—some even filled with visible anger.
The same tension hung over the queen's group, who waited in silence, their mood heavy as they anticipated the identity of the two participants.
"Those of you who paid close attention to yesterday's matches will already know who they are—but for the more forgetful among you, allow me to reintroduce them!" Chiacchera exclaimed, pointing toward one of the gates on the right side of the arena.
"The dark elf who is about to enter from the right is a man who, for better or worse—but who am I kidding, only for worse—left a lasting impression during his match yesterday and became the target of the anger of most participants… and of mine as well. The vice-captain of the Dark Knights of the Kingdom of Oscuora—Buio!!!"
The moment that name left her lips, an unnatural silence fell over the entire arena.
It lasted only an instant.
The gate opened.
Buio stepped out.
And immediately, a storm of insults erupted from the stands—louder and more violent than the day before. Yet the knight's demeanor remained unchanged.
His face was twisted into that same confident, macabre grin, and in his single visible eye burned a dark, sadistic arrogance. Far from disturbing him, the crowd's hatred seemed to fuel his twisted delight.
With unsettling composure, Buio walked calmly toward the center of the arena.
The moment he took his position, Pinusal locked eyes with him.
The referee said nothing. But his gaze alone was enough.
It was both a warning and a promise:
"Try anything like yesterday again… and I will stop you."
Buio wasn't truly intimidated—but neither could he ignore it. He knew exactly who stood before him: an elf who had lived for over a thousand years.
A quiet, annoyed groan escaped his lips.
"Ahh… what a bore…"
Once Buio was in place, Chiacchera—despite the tension—proceeded with the introduction of the second fighter.
She turned and pointed toward one of the gates on the left side of the arena.
"The one who will face this fearsome knight will enter from the left side of the arena. She is an important member of our kingdom's special magic unit, Sambuco. Yesterday, she secured her victory with relative ease, though she didn't seem particularly interested in advancing in this tournament…"
Her tone shifted.
The excitement in her voice faded, replaced by something more serious—tinged with concern, yet still carrying the theatrical edge expected of her.
"But when I saw her this morning… her eyes were burning with a dangerous fire. A fire ready to destroy anything—even herself—to accomplish her goal."
A brief silence followed.
"And the reason is simple."
Her voice lowered.
"The young Royal Knight who was killed yesterday by Buio… was her boyfriend."
A murmur spread through the crowd.
"She seeks revenge."
Another pause.
"And personally… I hope she succeeds."
Then, raising her voice once more, Chiacchera declared:
"Allow me to rintroduce her—the gentle elf reborn as an avenger… Edma Crystal!"
When the girl's name left Chiacchera's lips, one of the gates opened, and a young elf immediately emerged.
She was quite tall, with long aqua-green hair tied into a ponytail. The moment her blue eyes met Buio's, they ignited with a burning, destructive hatred. Her face had a naturally gentle and delicate shape, but the expression she wore at that moment conveyed something entirely different.
She wore a long white cloak that stopped just short of the ground, completely covering her body and making it impossible to see what lay beneath it.
Her steps were quick, sharp, and filled with rage.
In an instant, she stood before Buio, staring straight into his eyes with all the hatred in her heart.
But that gaze—so full of fury and pain—had no effect on him. Buio was clearly accustomed to receiving such looks.
And yet, that hatred was not directed solely at him.
Several of Edma's furious glances were also cast toward Pinusal, and the referee immediately understood why. He had not stopped yesterday's match in time, and because of that, Marco had died.
It was a fault he blamed himself for as well. But that guilt would not stop him from doing his duty.
"Is there anything you'd like to say before we begin the match?" Pinusal asked, his voice heavy yet professional.
Edma shot him one more cold glance before turning back to Buio. Then, in a voice trembling with rage, she spoke:
"Buio… I will kill you, even if it costs me my life. I will make you pay for what you did to Marco!!!!!!!!"
Her eyes filled with tears.
Buio scoffed.
A macabre laugh escaped his lips before he finally replied, his voice dripping with arrogance:
"Go ahead and try."
The elf's eyes widened, the hatred within them flaring even more intensely.
Sensing that the young woman was about to lose control, Pinusal immediately decided to begin the match.
"The match will start on my signal. Understood?"
Edma, completely focused on Buio, ignored the question.
Buio simply continued to smile.
Pinusal took the silence as agreement and began the countdown.
"Ready…"
"Set…"
"GO!!!"
The instant the final word left Pinusal's mouth, one of the fighters launched forward with incredible speed.
Surprisingly, it wasn't the elf—who seemed ready to explode with rage at any moment—but Buio.
With his sword already drawn, he charged at her with a twisted grin, intent on ensuring that Edma would suffer the same fate as her beloved.
In the blink of an eye, he closed the distance between them. With a single, clean swing of his blade, he sliced the unfortunate elf cleanly in two.
A wave of shock rippled through the audience. Some had already begun to wonder why Pinusal hadn't intervened this time either.
But that wasn't what had truly happened.
What Buio had cut in half was not Edma. It was a glass panel, within which her reflection had been trapped.
The real Edma was already in mid-air, falling backward after executing a powerful evasive leap.
The moment the glass was split, it shattered into countless fragments—fragile, yet razor-sharp—that shot toward Buio at high speed. For a brief instant, the vice-captain of the Dark Knights looked both surprised and annoyed.
But not enough to shake his composure.
To him, it was like hunting a rabbit that, by sheer luck, had frozen at just the right moment to avoid an arrow he had been certain would strike true. Annoying… but far from an escape.
"Glass Magic… what a nuisance," Buio muttered, his voice laced with irritation.
Just before the shards of glass began flying toward Buio, while she was still in mid-air, a loaded pistol emerged from beneath Edma's cloak.
She aimed at his head, chest, and legs—and fired three shots.
Her voice, trembling with hatred, tore through the arena as she screamed:
"DIE!!!"
These were no ordinary bullets. They had been specially designed not to pass through the target's body, but to remain lodged inside it. And more importantly, they had been coated with a lethal poison extracted from a rare flower that grew only in the forests of Yggdrasill: the White Widow.
A beautiful, deadly flower of pure white.
Even the smallest amount of its toxin—absorbed or ingested—could stop a human heart in less than a minute. Elves and dark elves, thanks to their natural resistance to poison, could endure it longer—up to five minutes—but it remained fatal nonetheless.
Thus, mixed among the storm of glass shards were three far more dangerous projectiles.
Yet Buio deflected every single one of them with effortless precision, his sword moving like a blur.
"Damn it," Edma muttered as she landed.
But she didn't hesitate for even a moment.
"Glass Circle!" she cast immediately.
A dozen rectangular panels of transparent glass materialized around Buio, forming a perfect circle. On each of those panels appeared an image of Edma—each one moving in perfect synchronization with the real one, mimicking her every action.
At the same time, unnoticed by Buio, an additional layer formed: a thin, circular sheet of reinforced transparent glass, so subtle it was nearly invisible, enclosing both him and the surrounding panels.
Buio quickly realized that all the images had stopped running.
Each of them reached beneath their cloaks and drew a pistol, aiming directly at him.
Buio knew a couple of similar spells and was certain that the elf was hiding behind one of those panels, so all he had to do was figure out which one she was behind and finish her off without mercy— so as to make his little nephew suffer a little more.
A sadistic smile crept back onto his face.
But before he could begin his "hunt," he prepared himself for the incoming attack. From the earlier shots, he had noticed something mixed with the scent of gunpowder—something unnatural.
Poison.
This wasn't the first time he had faced someone seeking revenge. He knew all too well that such people would resort to anything.
'Not that it would be enough to kill me… but I appreciate the effort. It makes things more interesting,' he thought, remaining cautious nonetheless.
Then—
A gunshot rang out.
Or rather, many gunshots.
The sound echoed from every glass panels at once, and from each reflection, a bullet appeared to be fired.
Buio's eye narrowed slightly.
He had expected one shot.
In reality, only one of them was real—the poisoned bullet, fired through one of the panels. The others were merely shards of glass shaped and colored like bullets. They could damage exposed flesh, but they would shatter instantly against Buio's armor.
Still, the surprise lasted less than a millisecond.
Buio lowered his sword toward the ground and calmly chanted:
"Dark Hands."
The shadow cast by the tip of his black blade expanded, and from it emerged ten hands made of pure darkness.
Each one intercepted a projectile with perfect precision.
Then—
In the blink of an eye, Buio vanished from the center of the glass circle.
He reappeared directly in front of one of the panels.
All of Edma's reflections widened their eyes in unison.
With a swift, decisive motion, Buio swung his sword, slicing the panel vertically in half—ensuring the full arc of his blade would cut through anything hidden behind it.
But there was no resistance.
No flesh. No bone.
Only glass.
And as he withdrew his blade, the shattered panel reformed almost instantly.
Until a moment earlier, Edma had indeed been behind that very panel.
But at the last possible instant, she had slipped away, repositioning herself behind another.
A sharp, irritated "tch" escaped Buio's lips.
"Enough. I'm tired of these games," he muttered, his voice dripping with annoyance.
"I don't have time to waste on a foolish little girl. I have an important mission to fulfill—for the glory of the Kingdom of Oscuora."
His tone shifted—colder, heavier.
"I'd say it's time to get a little more serious …"
Then he uttered two words.
Words that marked the beginning of the end of the match.
"Dark Pit!"