The knights stood in absolute respect behind the general, alongside a few figures who seemed to be his right hand.
"I built this prison with my blood. I defied every hardship to reach what I desired."
He opened his hand, releasing Morder from his grip… Morder gasped, clutching his throat as he struggled to breathe. He tried to look at General Bernad, but his eyes failed to see clearly.
'That grip… it felt like four blades were clamped around my neck.' He trembled inwardly.
"All of you who come from the Brooken lands… you chase after illusions."
The general grabbed Morder by the hair and struck him with such force that most of his teeth scattered across the ground. Morder tried to comprehend what had just happened as he touched his mouth.
"Gathering the fragments of the Arcane ring and gaining healing and power… nothing but delusions. Anyone can dream of such nonsense in their sleep."
There was a terrifying sharpness in his voice—as if he wasn't speaking, but striking with his words.
He raised his hand and continued:
"If this were real, you would see all the people of the Brooken lands rushing to claim such a blessing… not a pack of slaves like you."
"You are cowards."
The general clenched his fist and looked toward Morder.
"What did you say?"
Morder smirked, raising his middle finger.
"I said you're nothing but cowards, and—"
He didn't finish his sentence before his middle finger was severed, flying before his eyes. Then a blow struck his stomach, forcing him to vomit blood as he choked on his own scream.
He collapsed to the ground, trying to stand again, but the damage he had taken made it impossible.
"I heard you the first time… but like a fool, you chose to repeat it in my presence."
The general lowered himself and pointed at Morder, speaking in a calm voice:
"Do you know what your problem is? You think you are the strongest… in a vast universe whose end we do not know, nor what it hides."
He shook his head, covering his face.
"Sometimes, my body trembles with fear… you might wonder why someone like me would fear anything. Simply because I am not an idiot."
He placed his palm on the back of Morder's head and crushed it into the ground.
"Above every strong man… stands someone stronger."
He raised his severed arm—only a fragment remained.
"Do you know why my hand is gone? Because I faced a dragon far superior to me in strength and experience… yet I survived. I did not boast about it. Words come easily… but living by them is far harder."
Morder lifted his shattered head… his eyes bleeding, his cheek broken, a deep gash above his brow. He spat blood onto the ground—along with small fragments of stone.
"You talk too much, General… try to shorten whatever it is you're trying to say." He raised his head, staring into those crimson eyes.
"And do you wish to hasten—"
The general didn't finish his sentence before a steel blade shot out from Morder's palm, aiming straight for his chest.
Yet the general caught the blade between two fingers… leaving Morder stunned.
"What a clever trick… truly unexpected."
"Don't worry. I have more."
Morder leapt slightly and delivered a kick with his right leg toward Bernad's head—but it was blocked.
He didn't stop there. He unleashed a flurry of wild strikes, some not even close to hitting their target.
"With such pitiful strength… do you even think you can pass the gate?"
"Yes… after I tear you into pieces like a pig."
Morder looked down, grabbed his sword, and began swinging it, trying to land a hit—but failed. Bernad kept one hand behind his back, evading every strike with cold ease, as if he were in a training session.
"Man… your fighting is boring. Are you really the same one who led that rebellion?" The general covered his mouth, yawning.
He was provoking Morder—and it worked. Morder abandoned all rational thought, slipping into reckless, chaotic attacks.
"Your talent and skills… if used to destroy the Diamond, would have been something worthwhile."
"My ears are tired of your nonsense."
The general vanished from Morder's sight, throwing him into confusion… then appeared beside him for a split second and drove a punch into his side, sending him crashing into a wall—shattering it completely as debris collapsed over him.
"Do you know the best punishment? To speak… and then be forced to live by your own words. I already explained this to you."
The rubble trembled… stones shifting, shaking, until Morder's hand emerged, gripping the surface and pulling himself out.
He threw his sword toward the general—but Bernad simply shifted slightly to the left, effortlessly dodging it… the blade instead struck one of his own knights.
The general glanced at them. One of his men was drowning in his own blood, the sword lodged deep into his neck. He collapsed—yet the general showed no concern.
"If you couldn't anticipate that move… how do you expect to withstand a strike with the force of a comet?"
Morder laughed like a madman, wiping his mouth.
"So you don't even care about your knights… General."
Bernad appeared again with terrifying speed, lowering his body and snapping Morder's leg. A scream tore out of him—raw and unrestrained—until the general shoved a rock into his mouth and crushed it.
"Do you know why this prison is different? Why escape is impossible? Because it isn't fixed… it is a living entity. It breathes—just like you and me."
He whispered near his ear:
"How do you break a man's will? Simple… you strip him of the freedom he longs for. Every door that shows light feels like salvation… but what if that light is nothing but the lightning of wrath?"
Morder spat the stones from his mouth and said in a strained voice:
"Don't make me laugh… building a maze doesn't make you great. What's the point of a hospital… or a city, when both are empty?"
For the first time, a hint of surprise appeared on the general's face. He straightened, placing his hand behind his back.
"A hospital? It seems the blows—and the blood loss—have affected your mind."
Morder rose, using the wall for support… until he stood upright. He placed his broken leg on the ground—despite the pain, he endured.
The general approached, grasped his chin, and lifted his head, speaking with a tone of admiration:
"I've never seen someone with a fighting will like yours…"
He stepped back slightly and continued:
"I will let you leave this place alive and depart the Brooken lands… on one condition. You must wound me. You have three attempts."
Morder wiped his face, anger consuming him.
"I don't need attempts… nor wounds. I'll kill you in front of your knights, you bastard."
A low chuckle spread among the knights—but they all fell silent the moment Bernad raised his hand.
"Let's see actions… not just words."
Morder began with a slow walk… then suddenly leapt high, aiming to deliver a direct strike to the head. But the general caught his leg and slammed him into the ground.
"First attempt."
'Damn it… just how strong is this bastard?' Morder muttered to himself in fear.
'But I'll find a way… I'll get out of here.'
Morder glanced beside him and spotted a broken blade. He grabbed it, feinting as if he would swing to cut the general's leg—while actually aiming to split him in half.
But the general was already aware of such tricks. What made it even easier was that Morder was slow and exhausted—his movements predictable, no matter how clever they seemed.
The general leapt high, leaving Morder in shock… then remained suspended in the air for a brief moment before placing his hand on Morder's head—and crushing him into the ground.
"Second attempt." he said with a cold laugh.
Morder lifted his head and spat a small stone straight at the general—but it never even reached him. The general shattered it instantly, then grabbed Morder by the neck with such force that the sound of bones cracking could be heard.
"Third attempt. I gave you all these chances… yet you chose risk over surrender. What a fool you are."
General Bernad's eyes glowed crimson, and a phantom arm formed where his severed one had been. Even the ground began to tremble.
"You fucking hopeless."
He said it sharply… and what followed was pure devastation.
He seized Morder by the neck… then by his left arm—and tore him in half.
From the sheer force of the split, blood burst outward like a fountain, scattering across the surroundings… Morder's body fell lifeless, motionless—dead in a brutal end at the hands of General Bernad.