Chapter 441: Black Raven Versus King of the Arena

The underground arena had never been so crowded.

Hours before the main event, every seat had already been filled.

The aisles overflowed with spectators.

Merchants abandoned their stalls to catch a glimpse of history.

Even influential demon nobles occupied the highest balconies, their private boxes overlooking the battlefield.

The whispers never ceased.

"She’s really fighting him..."

"No one has pushed the King in years."

"I heard he defeated three Origin Realm experts in a single day."

"They call him invincible."

"And yet..."

Another spectator smiled.

"...Black Raven has made everyone believe miracles are possible."

The chants gradually spread through the arena.

"BLACK RAVEN!"

"BLACK RAVEN!"

Soon another chant answered it.

"CRIMSON KING!"

"CRIMSON KING!"

The two names collided like thunder.

The arena lights dimmed.

A single crimson crystal illuminated the battlefield.

The announcer stepped forward, his magically amplified voice echoing throughout the cavern.

"Ladies and gentlemen..."

"For years, one warrior has stood above all others."

"He has defended his throne one hundred consecutive times."

"He has never been knocked down."

"He has never surrendered."

"He has never tasted defeat."

A massive iron gate slowly opened.

Heavy footsteps echoed through the arena.

Each step carried a quiet confidence rather than overwhelming force.

A tall man emerged.

Unlike Gormak’s monstrous physique or Drakhar’s imposing armor, the Crimson King appeared almost ordinary.

He wore simple crimson armor without ornamentation.

A weathered crimson cloak rested upon his shoulders.

At his waist hung a single longsword.

Its scabbard was old.

Its hilt showed countless signs of use.

His face was calm.

His crimson eyes held neither arrogance nor contempt.

Only experience.

The entire arena rose to its feet.

"CRIMSON KING!"

"CRIMSON KING!"

"CRIMSON KING!"

The King acknowledged the crowd with a slight nod before walking to the center of the battlefield.

The opposite gate opened.

Luna stepped into the light.

Her black cloak fluttered gently behind her.

Her obsidian mask concealed her expression.

The chants immediately changed.

"BLACK RAVEN!"

"BLACK RAVEN!"

"BLACK RAVEN!"

The two fighters stopped twenty meters apart.

Silence settled across the arena.

The King studied her quietly.

"So..."

His voice was deep yet calm.

"You’re the young swordswoman everyone is talking about."

Luna inclined her head respectfully.

"And you are the man everyone says cannot lose."

A faint smile appeared on his face.

"People exaggerate."

"They also said no one could defeat your previous opponents."

The smile lingered.

"Fair enough."

He slowly drew his sword.

Its polished blade reflected the crimson light overhead.

Luna followed, unsheathing her own weapon.

Steel whispered through the air.

The referee raised one arm.

"Begin!"

Neither moved immediately.

They simply watched one another.

Searching.

Reading.

The audience hardly dared breathe.

Then—

They vanished.

CLANG!

Steel collided in the center of the arena.

The impact sent a sharp gust racing across the battlefield.

Luna immediately felt the difference.

Heavy...

Not physically.

Mentally.

Every movement from the Crimson King carried absolute certainty.

No wasted motion.

No hesitation.

Their swords separated.

He attacked again.

A simple horizontal cut.

Nothing flashy.

Nothing complicated.

Yet Luna instinctively stepped back.

The blade passed mere centimeters from her chest.

He’s controlling the distance...

Before she could recover—

Another strike.

Then another.

Each flowed naturally into the next.

It was as though the sword itself knew where to move.

Luna counterattacked.

Three swift slashes.

A thrust.

A feint.

The King parried every one.

Calmly.

Almost effortlessly.

"You’ve trained well," he observed.

"But you’re trying to defeat me with combinations."

He stepped inside her guard.

The pommel of his sword struck her shoulder.

Thud!

Luna staggered backward.

The crowd gasped.

"She got hit!"

"The King hasn’t even accelerated yet!"

Luna steadied herself.

Her shoulder throbbed.

He’s stronger than Drakhar...

Much stronger.

She inhaled slowly.

Orpheus’ voice echoed in her thoughts.

"Panic clouds judgment."

She relaxed her grip.

Reset her stance.

The King nodded approvingly.

"Good."

Again they clashed.

Steel flashed beneath the crimson lights.

This time Luna abandoned aggression.

She focused entirely on observation.

Every step.

Every shift in weight.

Every subtle movement.

The duel became slower.

More deliberate.

The audience watched in fascinated silence.

Then without warning—

The King accelerated.

His aura erupted.

Not violently.

Smoothly.

Like a calm sea becoming a tidal wave.

Luna’s instincts screamed.

She barely blocked.

BOOM!

The force launched her across the arena.

She rolled before regaining her footing.

Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth.

The spectators fell silent.

The King hadn’t even pursued.

He simply waited.

"Stand."

Luna wiped away the blood.

"I wasn’t planning to stay down."

She charged.

Her sword became a blur.

The King answered in kind.

The arena disappeared beneath a storm of sparks.

Clang!

Clang!

Clang!

Their blades collided dozens of times within moments.

Stone cracked beneath their feet.

Dust spiraled upward.

The magical barrier surrounding the battlefield shimmered under the pressure.

High above, even the nobles leaned forward.

"Remarkable."

"She’s forcing him to defend."

Luna found an opening.

She thrust toward his shoulder.

The King twisted.

Her blade grazed his armor.

A shallow cut.

The first blood.

A crimson line appeared on his cheek.

The arena exploded.

"SHE CUT HIM!"

"IMPOSSIBLE!"

"The King is bleeding!"

For the first time...

The Crimson King smiled.

"A splendid strike."

His aura surged again.

"This is becoming interesting."

The tempo changed.

His attacks doubled in speed.

Luna was driven backward.

One slash cut across her sleeve.

Another grazed her thigh.

A third opened a shallow wound on her side.

Pain spread through her body.

She refused to slow down.

She couldn’t.

The King gave no opportunity.

Every mistake became another wound.

Minutes stretched on.

Her breathing grew heavier.

Her arms trembled.

She remembered training beneath the twin moons.

Hundreds.

Thousands.

Tens of thousands of repetitions.

Orpheus correcting every stance.

Every mistake.

"Your body will remember when your mind cannot."

Luna closed her eyes—

Only for an instant.

When she opened them...

Everything felt clearer.

She stopped chasing the King’s sword.

Instead...

She followed his intent.

The next exchange surprised everyone.

She slipped around a downward strike.

Redirected his momentum.

Countered.

The King narrowly avoided the blow.

His eyes widened slightly.

"Excellent."

The crowd was on its feet.

"BLACK RAVEN!"

"BLACK RAVEN!"

She attacked relentlessly.

The King retreated one step.

Then another.

It was the first time anyone had forced him backward in years.

Hope spread through the arena.

"She can do it!"

"She’s actually pushing him!"

Then—

The King exhaled.

"Forgive me."

Luna frowned.

"For what?"

"For ending this."

His stance changed.

Lower.

Smaller.

Simpler.

Orpheus had once shown her a similar stance.

One designed for a single decisive strike.

Her instincts screamed louder than ever before.

She moved first.

Too late.

The King vanished.

A flash of crimson.

A single arc of steel.

Luna blocked—

But the impact shattered her guard.

Her sword flew from her hands.

She felt herself lifted from the ground before crashing hard across the arena.

The world spun.

Her vision blurred.

The crowd fell silent.

Blood stained the stone beneath her.

Her ribs ached.

Her right arm refused to respond.

She struggled to breathe.

So... strong...

The King slowly approached.

His sword rested at his side.

He stopped several steps away.

"Yield."

Luna coughed.

Blood stained her lips.

"No."

"You can barely stand."

"I know."

"This isn’t shameful."

"I know."

"Then why continue?"

Slowly...

Painfully...

Luna rose.

Every muscle screamed.

Her legs trembled.

She retrieved her fallen sword.

She pointed it toward him once more.

"Because..."

She smiled behind her mask.

"...my master didn’t teach me to quit."

The audience erupted.

"BLACK RAVEN!"

"BLACK RAVEN!"

The Crimson King’s eyes softened.

"I see."

He raised his sword again.

"Then show me."

The battered swordswoman drew one final deep breath.

Though exhausted, wounded, and standing on the edge of defeat, the fire in her eyes had not gone out.

For the first time in many years, the undefeated champion realized he was facing more than a talented challenger.

He was facing someone whose resolve refused to break.

And that, more than any sword technique, made Black Raven worthy of standing before the King.