"Rustle... rustle... rustle..."
Theresis listened intently, his brows furrowed in concentration. The faint, persistent scraping noise rasped against his senses, leaving him with an inescapable feeling that something was deeply wrong. Yet if asked to identify the source, he couldn't put a finger on what it actually was.
"What is it, Your Highness?" the Confessarius asked.
He could tell Theresis had caught onto a sound, but in his own severely weakened state, the Confessarius lacked the strength to scan their surroundings, forced instead to simply ask.
"I hear something strange," Theresis replied, his eyes narrowing as he swept his gaze across the dark shadows. "It sounds like something crawling."
"Perhaps... some small subterranean creatures?" the Confessarius offered after listening closely for a moment, offering the most logical conclusion he could manage. "This area is crawling with vermin. The inferno earlier likely drove them out from their nests."
Theresis considered the idea for a moment and found himself agreeing.
These underground ruins were indeed teeming with small wildlife. As their army had advanced earlier, plenty of fearless little beasts had scurried out from the crevices to watch them pass.
Given their numbers, Theresis had privately noted that even if a man were trapped down here, he could survive quite comfortably on a diet of the local fauna.
Slightly relaxing his guard, Theresis pushed forward, leaving the dismal mausoleum behind with that strange, unsettling rustle still echoing in the darkness. For a fleeting second, he found himself wondering with dry irony if he had become distant kin to those fleeing rodents, scurrying alongside them away from this wretched place.
A ridiculous thought, Theresis mocked himself inwardly.
"Rustle—rustle—rustle..."
Yet the sound refused to fade, keeping pace with their every step. A prickle of cold unease began to spread through Theresis's chest. If his instincts were correct, this noise was no ordinary subterranean rodent.
"Watch the shadows carefully, this—"
"ROAARRR—!"
Before Theresis could finish his warning, a jet-black beast lunged at him from the darkness!
Theresis recognized the monstrosity the very instant the bloodcurdling roar echoed through the corridor. After a split-second of shock, his instincts took over, and he instantly snapped back into a combat stance.
"To think you would venture down here yourself," Theresis spat, swinging his sword to block a sweeping strike. "Have you come to take your vengeance for what happened back then, Kal'tsit?!"
Yes—the moment he laid eyes on the terrifying, jet-black creature, Theresis knew without a doubt that it was Kal'tsit's legendary companion, Mon3tr!
What caught him off guard was that this woman—who had spent centuries orchestrating events from behind the scenes—had actually chosen to hunt him down in person. Had she come here on a suicide mission?
"I hold no personal vendetta against you that demands blood," Kal'tsit's voice echoed calmly from the gloom. Rather than hiding in the shadows to command Mon3tr, she stepped openly into view, speaking with her usual, unreadable composure. "If that is truly what you believe, then I must question whether the recent psychological blows have compromised your mental stability."
"Heh... You certainly don't lack nerve!" Theresis sneered, his eyes cold as steel. "To dare stand before me like this... How long do you think it would take me to sever your head from your shoulders? Ten minutes? Twenty?"
Though the tide of battle had turned against him, the veteran Sarkaz warrior retained absolute confidence in his ability to decapitate the Feline right here and now.
Just as he had two hundred years ago when she led the coalition forces into Kazdel, no matter how dire the circumstances appeared, Theresis never doubted his ability to claim victory in the end!
"If you summoned me merely to issue empty threats against my life, my response remains unchanged: save your breath," Kal'tsit replied coldly. She stood motionless, her face devoid of terror as her piercing green eyes locked onto the Regent. "I am not intimidated by such display, nor do I believe you possess the capability to send me into another cycle."
Her voice remained as insufferable as ever to his ears. Kal'tsit stared at him like a predator eyeing its prey—a look that stirred a deep, visceral disgust inside Theresis. He tensed his legs, preparing to dash forward and run his blade through her.
"ROAARRR—!"
Grumbling in frustration at being ignored, Mon3tr unleashed a deafening screech, driving its heavy, black Originium talons straight at Theresis in a brutal barrage!
Theresis was forced to throw himself into defense, parrying Mon3tr's relentless assault with sheer grit.
Had he not just endured a grueling clash against Jeanne, dealing with this creature would have been manageable. But now, the situation was entirely different.
To escape the monstrous girl earlier, both Theresis and the Confessarius had drained their stamina and Arts energy to the absolute limit. It was a miracle neither of them had collapsed from sheer exhaustion already.
Right now, Theresis felt as though he were fighting with three mountain-sized Cragcrabs strapped to his back. The sword-waves he unleashed lacked their usual mountain-cleaving force; he could barely hold off Mon3tr's crushing blows while simultaneously shielding the frail Confessarius beside him.
For two exhausted men to fight off a six-limbed monster was an agonizing ordeal, yet Theresis remained convinced he could find a flaw in their coordination and break the stalemate.
Still, a nagging question gnawed at his mind: had Kal'tsit truly come to Victoria alone? If not, where were her allies hiding?
That thought bit at his sanity like a parasitic insect, forcing him to divert precious attention to his surroundings. Who else had this Feline brought with her?
Just as the thought crossed his mind, the space around him warped unnaturally. Theresis felt a sudden, sickening sensation of weightlessness, as if the ground beneath his feet had vanished into a bottomless pit.
An illusionist?
He immediately recognized the signature spatial displacement technique. This trick—forcing the mind into experiencing sensory distortions—belonged to a specific, infuriating caster.
Yet Theresis was far too experienced to be trapped for long. With a sharp focus of will, he broke free of the spatial illusion in an instant. Such parlor tricks meant little to him.
Seeing him shake off the spell, Mon3tr seized the opening and pounced, abandoning the Confessarius entirely. The Confessarius had no chance to assist Theresis anyway—his own opponent had already made their move.
"Honestly, I never realized there was such deep hatred between us," the Confessarius murmured, watching the black-robed Sarkaz step out from the shadows. His tone remained unhurried, yet a faint strain of tension laced his voice. "This looks very much like an attempt to leave me buried here... my dear sister."
Shining looked at her nominal brother and shook her head silently, drawing her sheathed sword to strike.
"If you refuse to unsheathe your blade, you won't be able to stop me!" the Confessarius stated with lingering confidence, convinced he still held the upper hand in a duel of pure Arts.
"I hope you maintain that optimism in a moment," Shining replied softly.
Brother and sister clashed in a blur of motion. Yet the Confessarius quickly realized Shining had no intention of killing him—she was fighting to take him alive.
Stealing a quick glance toward Theresis, the Confessarius felt his stomach drop. The Regent was faring no better; in fact, he was in deep trouble.
"Mon3tr—Meltdown!" Kal'tsit's sharp command echoed through the vault.
An ominous, pitch-black aura erupted from the monstrous beast, coiling around its frame as its attacks multiplied in ferocity and speed.
A strike of sheer, crushing power slammed into Theresis's guard, numbings his wrists. The force knocked his broadsword wide, exposing his chest completely!
Damn it! Theresis realized the fatal danger instantly. Yet before Mon3tr's sharp talons could impale his chest, a sharp, searing pain shot through the wrist holding his sword!
A hidden blade had sliced through his defenses from the shadows.
Theresis froze, staring at the Sarkaz assassin who had emerged beside him—the very operative he had personally trained years ago. Complex, bitter emotions swirled in his eyes.
"Ascalon..." Theresis breathed.
"You know as well as I do that it's over," Ascalon said coldly, her dagger resting against his throat. "Come back to Kazdel with us, Theresis."