Sensing a threat looming behind him, Nova reacted instinctively, thrusting the spear’s shaft backward. The blow met a punch so forceful that it nearly tore the weapon from his hands, followed by a vicious sword slash.

  With little choice, Nova swiftly stepped forward, trying to dodge the strike. But the tip of the sword grazed his back. He grunted, the jagged blade ripping through his flesh. A strip of his clothes was torn open, revealing a trail of blood seeping from the wound. His body immediately began to regenerate the injury, but it was slow—too slow.

  ‘I need to create some distance’, Nova thought as he staggered forward before turning around, now standing five meters away from Vragor, who studied him intently, his eyes filled with cold calculation.

  Taking a deep breath, Nova sprinted toward Vragor in a thrusting motion. Vragor smirked, preparing to parry the strike and counter with a fatal blow. What he didn’t expect was that Nova altered his motion halfway through. Letting go of the spear with his right hand, Nova swung the shaft in a sweeping arc with his left hand, gripping it near the spearhead.

  The shaft collided with Vragor's left side, slamming into him with a crack that echoed in the tense air.

  Vragor couldn’t react fast enough. Having already committed to parrying and countering, he was unprepared for the sudden shift in Nova’s attack. The force of the blow to his chest shattered several ribs, sending him staggering backward, struggling to regain his balance.

  A dark smirk spread across Vragor’s face as his battle lust surged, and without hesitation, he launched himself at Nova, who had just resumed his normal battle stance. Vragor swung downward, aiming for Nova’s dominant arm—the left.

  Nova reacted with lightning speed, thrusting his spear toward the right side of Vragor’s sword. The strike connected, deflecting the blade away from its intended path, creating an opening. Nova's heart raced as he prepared to thrust his spear into Vragor’s chest.

  But the opening quickly vanished. Vragor, anticipating the move, delivered a brutal kick to Nova’s stomach. The impact was so forceful that several of Nova’s ribs cracked, and the shock of the blow sent his mind into blackness for a moment.

  Blood wheezed from his mouth as pain surged through his body, but he managed to return to his senses. His legs felt weightless, the damage from the kick rendering him unable to stand properly. He couldn’t move, not for a few precious seconds.

  Vragor wasted no time, regaining his stance with terrifying precision. He thrust his sword forward, aiming straight for Nova’s heart.

  For the first time in his life, Nova faced an opponent so strong and experienced that he felt truly powerless. His mind raced for a way out, but he could see no path forward.

  In that moment of desperation, with his legs unresponsive, Nova made a reckless decision. He gambled everything. Letting his body fall to the ground, he sought to avoid the deadly thrust by using gravity in his favor, hoping to survive long enough to find another chance.

  The sword never faltered, its deadly arc closing in on Nova in an instant. But as Nova fell, his body reacting in desperation, the sword plunged deep into his left shoulder, the tip piercing through to almost emerge from his back.

  Accustomed to pain, Nova only grunted softly, the sound of it lost in the chaos of his thoughts. He hit the ground hard, his body reacting instinctively to the wound, but the sword withdrew, leaving a searing gash in its wake. His body immediately set to work, beginning the slow process of healing—but regeneration was never immediate. With every breath, his stamina drained, his body overexerting itself to close the wound, while the rest of him screamed for rest.

  Vragor had already regained his stance, his eyes gleaming with vicious intent. Seeing Nova fall, he wasted no time. He lunged forward, eager to finish the fight.

  Nova’s thoughts spiraled as he scrambled to make sense of his situation. ‘What else can I use? Is this all the strength I have? So weak. Did I really believe I could be free with just this? Pathetic.’

  And then, as if a bolt of lightning had struck his mind, a realization cut through the fog of doubt. ‘I’ve been building momentum only with strikes all along. Why have I never thought of building it up differently? Why have I shackled myself with rules when I’ve never followed them before? Couldn’t I have just built up momentum in my movements? How foolish—this is embarrassing.’

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  With his legs beginning to recover, Nova’s mind crafted a desperate plan. His heart raced as he focused on the incoming sword.

  The blade was descending, but Nova’s response was swift. In one fluid motion, he kicked up, propelling himself off the ground. Halfway through the motion, as his feet hung just above the earth, he gripped the spear with his right hand and slammed the tip into the ground. The momentum surged through him, propelling his body upward in a wild, unpredictable arc.

  For a moment, Nova found himself suspended, his legs high in the air, his face facing downward. His spear was the only thing keeping him balanced, holding him in an inverted position—vertically, as if defying the very laws of gravity.

  What seemed like an eternity to explain took place in the blink of an eye.

  Just before Vragor’s sword could descend upon the spear’s shaft, Nova made a subtle shift. He leaned slightly toward Vragor, angling the spear diagonally.

  At that precise moment, Vragor’s sword collided with the spear, but the angle of the shaft caused it to slip off the ground with ease. Nova was sent spinning, his body in perfect harmony with the motion.

  A wild grin spread across Nova’s face, barely containing the surge of exhilaration that bubbled within him. The world seemed to blur as he spun, the spear soaring above him. His eyes locked with Vragor’s, and in that instant, there were no words—only understanding. Vragor’s gaze faltered for a fraction of a second, realizing the shift in momentum, but it was too late.

  Vragor attempted to reset his stance in an instant, but Nova’s momentum had already built too much, the force of it overwhelming even the seasoned warrior’s reflexes.

  In less than a millisecond, Nova’s spear was descending with the might of a storm, an overhead strike fueled by every ounce of energy he’d gathered since the moment he launched himself from the ground. It was the strongest strike he had ever delivered in his life, the culmination of momentum that had been building with every move, every breath.

  This was the moment Nova had been waiting for—an outlet for the energy that had gathered within him, and now, it was unleashed in its full, devastating force.

  The spear crashed into Vragor’s right arm with brutal force. It offered no resistance as it was driven into the ground, his arm torn from his body and along with it, his sword. A sharp grunt of pain escaped his lips as he realized the severity of his mistake.

  Nova landed gracefully on his feet, without a moment’s hesitation. He surged forward, jabbing directly toward Vragor’s chest, intent on finishing the fight.

  Vragor, now defenseless, was left with only one arm and no weapon to defend himself. In a desperate attempt, he tried to fend off the barrage with his claws, but Nova’s jabs came faster, sharper, and more merciless with each strike. The claws barely scratched the air before being pierced by Nova’s relentless assault, and soon, Vragor’s hand was nothing but a bloody mess, riddled with holes. His body, too, suffered—each strike from Nova left deep, bleeding marks, leaving barely an inch of unscathed flesh.

  Then, Nova saw it—the core. It was centered in the middle of Vragor’s chest, larger than any he had encountered before, despite Vragor’s smaller frame. Nova’s focus locked onto it.

  Vragor, breathing heavily, knew he couldn’t survive much longer without a weapon. His mind raced. He had to retrieve his sword, or he would be finished. With a grunt he launched himself towards the weapon and he managed to grab it, now more determined than ever to regain some form of advantage.

  This human had proven himself time and again, leaving Vragor in awe. He could hardly fathom how Nova’s world had just connected to the wider Universe, but he had no choice but to accept it—Nova was not just a warrior; he was a prodigy, a once-in-a-generation talent.

  Their eyes locked in silent understanding—approval, respect, and a shared admiration reflected in each other's gaze. They were enemies not by choice, but by the cruel hand of fate that had bound them to this clash. In another world, under different circumstances, they might have been friends.

  Nova gave a subtle nod, and Vragor responded in kind, a mutual recognition of each other's strength. Without another word, Nova surged forward, his intent clear: to strike at the King’s core.

  Vragor, undeterred, launched himself toward Nova with a swift horizontal slash of his sword, fully prepared for the final confrontation.

  They collided in an instant, but as Nova's spear edged ever closer to the King's core, Vragor made no move to defend.

  Vragor’s perception of time seemed to stretch and slow as a profound realization washed over him. ‘I’ve lived long enough’, he thought. ‘This human... no, this warrior—he has a future, one that I no longer deserve to be a part of. It’s time for me to rest’. A faint, almost serene smile tugged at his lips as Nova’s spear drove deep into his chest, bursting through his back and pushing the core out, impaling him.

  As the life drained from him and his body began to disintegrate into ash, Vragor's voice rasped with gratitude. “Thank you... for granting me this final battle. Good... lu—” His words were cut short as his sword clattered to the ground, the sound echoing like a dying heartbeat in the empty hall.

  Nova stood motionless, the weight of the moment heavy in the air. He had killed a warrior who, despite their roles as enemies, had shown him unexpected kindness. A King who had ruled a civilization but carried himself with the humility of a sage. He had been a true King—one who lived by honor and wisdom.

  With quiet respect, Nova whispered

  "I will remember you, King Vragor."

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