Kael had no intention of using his poisoned arrows at the beginning. Not because he felt pity, and certainly not because he doubted their effectiveness. He simply preferred to wait. Patience was his ally. Once Thalion began to tire, when his movements dulled and his strength waned, Kael would strike with venom and precision to end it swiftly.

The moment that red sword shimmered into existence in Thalion’s hand, Kael acted. His hand snapped to his quiver and in one smooth motion, the first arrow soared across the battlefield. His aim was true, sharp as a whisper of death. The sixty meters between them might as well have been six, but Thalion responded without alarm. He shifted just slightly, and the arrow skimmed past, missing by inches. Kael hadn’t even charged it, a mistake he would not repeat.

Charged arrows moved like lightning, their force magnified tenfold. Not even advanced armor like Thalion’s could hold against one. Kael noticed the tension building in Thalion’s body, the kind that betrayed subtle fatigue. He allowed a grin to tug at the corner of his mouth. The time to carve the Sanguine Thorn from his opponent had nearly come.

Thalion moved now, fast and direct, rushing toward him. Kael released another arrow, this one infused with raw mana. Still, Thalion dodged with ease, flowing around the attack as though he’d seen it coming long before Kael ever drew the bow. Kael narrowed his eyes. That kind of casual evasion would have cost him dearly against any other opponent. But this wasn’t working. The arrows weren't landing. Close combat would have to do.

Engaging up close carried its risks. If Thalion had a escape token, a well-placed arrow might not be enough. A single second was all it took to vanish. But in close range, with relentless pressure, Kael could leave no time for retreat. The more expensive escape tokens worked almost instantly. The cheaper ones were slower, clumsy in their activation. Kael carried the finest one available, of course, but he wouldn’t need it. Not against Thalion.

The red sword glinted as Thalion charged. It was brimming with subtle energy, but the technique behind it felt unrefined. Wide openings, predictable arcs. Kael turned sideways and let his bow vanish into his ring. In a blink, a short sword filled one hand, a dagger the other. Spinning with the fluidity of a dancer, he slashed toward Thalion’s side, his blade flashing with deadly intent.

But Thalion moved like liquid fire. His armored elbow knocked the strike away. Then his fist—heavy and sudden—smashed into Kael’s face with a crunch. Pain tore through his skull as blood burst from his nose. He staggered back three meters, barely catching himself before hitting the ground. A second attack was already coming for his neck, and Kael had to use his movement skill to vanish from the sword’s path.

His mind reeled. Something was wrong. Thalion’s strength, his speed—both far greater than expected. Kael wove between strikes, assessing. His nose was clearly broken, blood spilling down over his lips. But the injury meant little. Pain was familiar, and it did not shake him. Thalion, on the other hand, hid behind that armor for a reason. Kael doubted he could endure the same.

As they fought across the sun-baked sands, Kael glimpsed flickers of crimson fire rising near Thalion’s feet. Strange, flickering flames that were quickly extinguished, snuffed out by an unseen force. Whatever it was, Kael could not let this fight drag on. He began releasing some of the aura restraints he had imposed on himself, allowing raw power to radiate from his body. His presence thickened like a storm.

With renewed speed, Kael lunged forward, slashing at Thalion’s torso while aiming a dagger thrust toward his leg. Thalion simply stepped backward. His sword blocked Kael’s strike with calm precision, and his backward movement kept the dagger at bay. The distance he created was just enough. Kael felt it then—that cold sting of humiliation. He looked like an amateur against him.

Frustration tightening his chest, Kael dashed back and pulled his bow again. He fired a Splitting Shot, a specialized skill that fragmented the arrow into dozens of sharp projectiles mid-flight. It was like unleashing a storm of blades. Thalion raised a mana barrier just in time. The shards slammed into the shield, some leaving shallow scratches, but the damage was negligible. As the attack ended, Thalion calmly dispelled the barrier like it had never been needed.

Kael clenched his jaw. The mana barrier was the perfect answer to his shotgun-like attack. Against flesh and armor, it would have shredded a man to ribbons. But against a layered energy defense, it was almost useless. The tide of battle was shifting. Thalion was adapting quickly, and Kael was running out of tricks.

It was time to change everything.

Thalion had been strong in the past, yes, but the fact that he could already keep up with Kael now was unexpectedly impressive. Still, Kael had yet to unleash even a fraction of his true power. With a flicker of energy, he activated his movement skill at full intensity, propelling himself backward to gain distance. His hand reached instinctively for another arrow, already charging it with growing power. The strategy was simple: wear Thalion down from afar, exhaust him, and finish him in brutal close combat.

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Thalion wasn’t passive either. He surged forward, his own movement skill cloaking him in a blur. Kael's focus sharpened as he continued charging the arrow. When he finally let it fly, the air cracked like thunder. The arrow screamed across the battlefield—but again, Thalion was unfazed. He veered methodically to the side, and the shot missed, detonating against a distant tower with a violent explosion that shattered stone and sent debris soaring skyward.

A flash of crimson light lit up the horizon. Thalion had retaliated with a fireball, massive and burning unnaturally red. Kael slid sideways, narrowly avoiding it as he kept charging another arrow. He frowned. That red fire—he had seen it once before, during the catacomb assault. Sylas had complained about it constantly, and they'd once assumed it was vampire magic. But in the catacombs, fire spells had behaved normally. Was it something affecting only the surface? Why would the undead enchant only the upper world and not the underground?

Whatever it was, it made Thalion’s fire magic slightly stronger than standard spells and far more dangerous upon contact with blood. When blood met that flame, the heat escalated, turning minor burns into infernos. Kael gritted his teeth. Thalion was clearly benefiting from the undead’s trickery, but his fireballs were still too slow and weak to land. Not against someone like Kael.

Thalion vanished behind his fireball and emerged far closer than expected. That tactic—it was clever. Creative. Kael loosed another arrow to drive him back while retreating further, trying to buy time and distance. Thalion dodged again, this time slipping past the arrow as though tugged sideways by invisible strings. His movement skill was bizarre but brutally effective. It made his dodges impossible to predict.

That was the unsettling part about Thalion, Kael couldn’t read him. Fighting Kai, Kael always knew where the blade would swing, how the body would pivot. But Thalion? He fought like chaos incarnate. His unpredictability was maddening. Even the nose-breaking exchange earlier had come from nowhere. Yet Kael knew one thing: unpredictability wouldn’t save him forever.

Their dance continued over cracked earth and shifting dust. Kael, darting backward, fired various types of arrows in rapid succession—explosive ones designed to knock agile opponents off their feet, and charged shots meant to kill on impact. Thalion, however, slipped through them all like smoke. Once, he even leapt into the air, conjured a mana barrier beneath his feet, and used the force of an explosion to launch himself higher. From above, he hurled another fireball downward, then plummeted after it in a surprise assault.

Kael dodged but not before noticing the crowd.

On the distant skyships, spectators laughed. They leaned casually on the railings and bows, jeering and mocking with gleaming eyes and smug grins. Kael’s blood boiled. Fools, every one of them.

“Hey, where are you looking?” Thalion’s voice rang out across the battlefield.

Kael’s head snapped forward. Thalion stood in the distance, posture relaxed, voice dripping with mockery. Kael could almost see the smirk beneath his mask. But those eyes—their deep, infernal red—were what truly unnerved him. Cold. Detached. Like he was nothing more than a bothersome insect.

Kael’s rage ignited.

“That’s it!” he roared. “I’m going to end you. And your band of skyship weaklings? I’ll remake them into something useful!”

Spit flew from his lips as his voice climbed with fury. But Thalion didn’t bother waiting for him to finish. The moment Kael opened his mouth, Thalion charged. It had been a trap—he’d goaded him into wasting breath, and now he pressed the advantage.

Kael growled, pouring more energy into his body. The crowd on the skyship roared with laughter. He would silence them all. He shoved his bow into his spatial ring and launched forward, weapons now flashing into his hands: a short sword and a dagger, gleaming with killing intent.

It was time to end this.

He activated his Bladedance skill, a technique that amplified every strike, boosting his speed and strength in sudden bursts. Even Kai, the master of close combat, struggled against this technique. The air cracked beneath his feet as he lunged forward with everything he had. His aura flared, rippling the sand around him like a gale.

Thalion probably expected another retreat. But Kael wasn’t backing off this time.

He would finish this in one strike and savor the stunned expression on Thalion’s face as his head tumbled from his shoulders.