Elahan, who was closest to the two, reacted first. In a flash of holy light, her body shot forward, reaching Edgar in the blink of an eye.

“What is this?!” she shouted as she drew the Holy Iron Breaker.

The Holy Weapon that had been handed down through three centuries of Saintesses descended without the slightest trace of mercy. With a thunderous crash, shards of stone burst in every direction. Elahan pulled back her weapon, missing her target by mere fractions of a second, and glared toward Nekator’s side.

It was just as she expected. It was common knowledge—even to those who weren’t warriors or mages—that in close combat, a martial artist always held the advantage. That was why mages had devised means to escape at close range, one of which was Blink.

“Hehehe... Terrifying. As expected of the Holy Church’s heretic butcher.”

Standing beside Nekator, Edgar grinned darkly and sneered, “Are you sure it’s fine to leave Master Grania like that? More than half his entrails are gone. Wait too long, and even a Grand Mage like him will die.”

He’d had the chance to kill Grania outright. A blow to the head or heart would have ended it instantly. Yet he’d deliberately stopped at a gut wound to create a wounded liability and drag down Leon’s party’s overall strength one step further.

Leon’s group immediately grasped the intent, their faces hardening. Only Adela remained expressionless as she raised a hand.

“Saintess, take care of the old man,” she said to Elahan.

“Cardinal Adela?”

“The three of us will handle Nekator and that piece of trash. Patch him up and then rejoin us.”

“Understood. May fortune be with you.”

As Elahan stepped back and began healing Grania’s wound, the remaining three advanced toward the two exolaw wielders to draw them away from the healing.

Neither Nekator, the Bishop of Destruction, nor Edgar, the current Archmage of Clyde, was an opponent against whom they could afford to hold back.

“Let me ask you one thing, you son of a bitch,” Adela snapped at Edgar, her voice sharp. “What grudge did you have against your teacher to stab him in the back like that? The old man was stubborn, insufferable, and had the temper of a mule, sure, but he treated his own people well.”

Madness flickered in Edgar’s eyes as he replied, “Heh, you know him well. Yes, my master was that kind of man. Everyone wanted him. Not me—never me, who could never surpass him, who could never be more than a shadow of his greatness!”

“So it’s just inferiority, then? How pathetic.”

“Yes, pathetic indeed. But isn’t that how the world works?”

There was ugliness in everyone. What mattered was whether one resisted it, striving to be better, or embraced it and fell further into the abyss.

At that crossroads, Edgar had chosen the latter. And he had fallen beyond redemption.

A low hum filled the air. Dozens of complex magic circles ignited behind him, and Leon’s group tightened their stances.

Adela lowered her body, fist angled at her waist, while Leon spread his legs wider than shoulder width, letting his sword hang at his side.

The air trembled as if it were on the verge of eruption. A spark could set off the entire field. And then, a sound, one similar to that of a tomato bursting, rang.

“You know,” Nekator said in a flat, emotionless voice. “I hate boring people like you.”

At his feet lay Edgar’s corpse, headless, blood gushing into a crimson pool. It was an instant death.

Even an exolaw wielder couldn’t survive that. Unless the entire body had been transfigured, the heart and brain remained fatal weak points. And the brain, where the soul resided, couldn’t regenerate after death.

Nekator kicked the headless body again and again, his voice twisting with rage as he rambled, “Because of you! Because of a useless bastard like you! I could’ve fought Grania, but no—you had to ruin it, you brainless sack of shit!”

The joy that had colored his face moments ago vanished. Like a volcano bursting, he spewed fury, and then turned his eyes toward the three. The moment their gazes met, Leon’s body froze.

It was the terror of facing a true predator. Nekator’s killing intent surged, swelling severalfold in an instant.

“Well, whatever. You’re still here, aren’t you? Three of you should be enough to keep things interesting. Let’s get started.”

Just as Leon registered that the attack was coming, Nekator was already in front of him.

What?!

He reacted purely on instinct, raising his sword to intercept the incoming fist. The clash of two opposing auras erupted in a violent explosion, hurling Leon backward nearly ten paces.

Even accounting for the speed difference, the disparity in raw power was overwhelming. His wrist throbbed, and his insides shuddered from the impact he couldn’t fully diffuse.

“Oh? You actually blocked it?” Nekator mused, chuckling in satisfaction, while Adela lunged for his flank in a single bound.

“Flash Step.”

True to her name as the Rampage, Adela’s burst of movement was terrifying. She outpaced sound itself by several steps, and her fist shot forward.

When their fists collided, the shockwave detonated outward. Air was blasted away, leaving a brief vacuum, an empty space where even breathing was impossible, and in that void, fists and feet tore through the air like mad beasts.

The Fourth Cardinal of the Holy Church, Adela. The Second Bishop of the Evil Order, Nekator. By sheer coincidence, both had reached the realm of Aura Master through pure martial combat. Within that single step—too close to even swing a dagger—lay their deadliest range.

They’re fast...! Leon thought in awe.

Punches flew, fingers slashed, knees struck, shoulders rammed, palms shoved, and heels whipped in dozens of exchanges per second. Even he and Karen couldn’t intervene; the tempo of their brawl was beyond human reach.

And it wasn’t just speed. Every strike targeted a vital point, slipping through the blind spots of human awareness.

El-Cid chimed in, —Watch carefully. See how terrifying a martial artist becomes when they rely on nothing external.

At the Holy Sword’s words, Leon widened his eyes. Channeling Aura into the Stigma of the Observer, the blur of their movements separated into distinct beats. Yet even then, he couldn’t find a single opening to thrust his sword through. Still, Leon’s effort wasn’t all for naught.

Cardinal Adela is... being overwhelmed.

With every dozen exchanges, she lost half a step. Despite giving her all, the balance between the two fighters was shifting, and the reason was simple. Nekator’s skill outclassed hers.

Breaking off to catch her breath, Adela shouted, “You bastard! You’ve gotten twice as strong since back then!”

Nekator responded, “You, on the other hand, haven’t changed at all! Height, skill, everything. Disappoint me any further, and I’ll kill you right where you stand.”

“I’d like to see you try!”

Though he spoke without a hint of killing intent, cold sweat rolled down her neck. He was serious. Leon stepped forward, standing beside Adela. Without even glancing back, she sensed his presence.

“Think you can keep up?” she asked Leon.

“I’ll try my best.”

“Good. Then show me some grit.” 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝒆𝒘𝙚𝓫𝙣𝙤𝒗𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢

Karen said nothing. To strike at Nekator’s opening, she needed every ounce of her focus and control.

A single leaf fluttered between them, descending lightly. And the moment it passed between the three, it shattered soundlessly.

Nekator moved first, Adela second, Leon third. The two fighters’ initial bursts were so fast that Leon could only follow by reading their flow.

He unfurled the Icarus Wings. Twin wings of flame expanded, enveloping a ten-meter radius.

Deflecting Adela’s elbow with his palm, Nekator’s gaze flicked toward Leon.

“Oh? What’s that? Nice trick!”

At that instant, Leon activated his first attack, Prominence, a sweeping blaze that burst outward with explosive force, as though to incinerate the very world.

“Sun Sword, Crimson Lotus, First Form: Prominence.”

Flames erupted from the Holy Sword, engulfing both Adela and Nekator alike. Leon’s Aura Blade could distinguish friend from foe, so it didn’t matter how he used it.

Yet still, Nekator laughed and shouted, “Hah! Hahahahaha! Yes! Yes! I like you!”

Then, he raised both palms. Pitch-black Aura surged around his hands, a darkness as deep as the abyss itself.

“Destruction Technique, Form One: Heaven’s Collapse.”

That wave of darkness came crashing down on them like a living tide. Leon’s instincts screamed that even the slightest contact would kill them.

Even with his senses accelerated to their limits, even as his vision shifted to stark black and white, the wall of darkness surging from Nekator burned in its own unnatural color. The power that devoured all creation annihilated matter and spirit alike, erasing both Aura and magic that fell short in strength.

El-Cid seemed to have an idea of what Nekator’s attack was.

—The Destruction Aura...! To wield it without tearing himself apart... In a way, he truly is exceptional.

How do I counter it?

—Overwhelm it with force. The Aura of Destruction has no attributive weakness.

Neither Life, Regeneration, nor Healing could stand against Destruction. Compared to those complex, inefficient powers of life, destruction was brutally simple and infinitely efficient.

That darkness couldn’t be dispelled. It could only be neutralized. With that resolve, Leon raised his sword.

“Grand Chariot.”

Once wasn’t enough. Twice wouldn’t do. At least three strikes—perhaps even four. The sword screamed as it braced itself to pour out everything.

“Chained Secret Technique: Three Stars in Heaven’s Jar.”

Three blazing stars burst forth from the Holy Sword, tearing the darkness apart. The wall that erased all within its path faltered beneath the radiance, its advance slowing, fading, thinning. If he poured out just a little more power, he could cancel out the darkness entirely.

Then, Adela sprang forward. Her nickname was the Rampage. Like Grania once said, she was a wild boar. Only at full sprint, never looking back, could she bring out her true power.

She reached the speed of sound on her first step. With her second, she surpassed it. By the third, she broke into hypersonic velocity.

“DIEEEEEEEE!”

She poured every ounce of her charge—enough to punch through a fortress—into her fist and smashed it into the wall of darkness. Even if darkness couldn’t be broken by physical force, it was different when the strike belonged to the domain of the Aura Blade.

Adela’s Aura Blade was brutally simple: Only advance—then advance again.

To shatter whatever stood before her. To make the very concept of a breakthrough into reality, much like a meteor descending from the distant heavens.

“Meteor Strike!”

With that burst of attack, the wall of darkness finally reached its limit and shattered into dust.

“Hahahahaha! You broke my wall head-on! You’re better than I thought! Let’s enjoy this, shall we? Until one of us dies!”

Even as his technique was broken, Nekator laughed with pure delight. Crushing the weak bored him, so he lived to seek out the strong.

He had long since discarded reason. He fought by instinct alone, hunting and destroying, caring nothing for tactics or strategy.

Nekator was a natural, a genius who had reached Aura Master through sheer talent and bloodlust. The Evil Order had merely given the beast a coliseum.

Perhaps because of that, he was one step too slow to react. More than twenty blades burst from his shadow, rising like inverted lightning, targeting six vital points at once.

“Pitch-Black Dance, Projection, First Form: Viper Rush.”

A swarm of supersonic daggers, twisting along irregular trajectories, was nearly impossible to block or dodge. However, to Nekator, such a barrage was nothing.

With reflexes beyond comprehension, he shattered every blade with a single flurry of punches. Daggers forged from drake scales crumbled like obsidian shards under his blows. He scoffed, about to sneer, but that wasn’t all from Karen, either. A single, piercing strike came at a speed faster than even his reflexes.

“Dark Thunder, First Form.”

Karen had reached the realm of Aura Master, and yet she’d faced countless failures. An assassin who insisted on head-on combat was a fool, but deception alone couldn’t fell every foe.

She needed power. A technique strong enough to break anything, to fulfill her role no matter the situation. So, she had created one. Her own Dark Thunder, a form not found in the original Pitch-Black Dance. However...

“Hm. You guys... You’ve exceeded my expectations. I only came here to kill some time, but I didn’t think you’d force me to use a defensive technique.”

“Destruction Technique, Form Two: Crescent Collapse.”

He cloaked himself in the same annihilating darkness, molding it into armor in an application that granted absolute defense. The contradiction of the coexistence of the ultimate spear and the ultimate shield had been made real in Nekator’s hands.

Even Karen’s full-power Dark Thunder couldn’t pierce through the armor; it simply vanished upon contact. Such was the might of the second-ranked Bishop of the Evil Order, a being counted among the five strongest across the continent.

That very being said, “Shall we take this all the way? The Saintess looks like she’s about to join in. My head’s a tempting prize, isn’t it?”

Even Nekator couldn’t dominate against four Masters at once, especially not against someone like Elahan, whose divine output defied reason. Her Holy Laws would suppress his Exolaws entirely. And yet, knowing all that, Nekator still looked eager to fight. However, as he took one step forward, he froze.

“That’s... enough.”

Behind Elahan, Grania was rising to his feet.