How to survive in the Romance Fantasy Game

Chapter 640: Spirit Kings 4

The battle raged on without pause.

CLASH!

BOOM!

WHOOSHHHH!

Steel, flame, and shadow collided again and again, neither giving an inch.

Just like when the fight began, there was still no clear victor—only rising tension and exploding power.

Stacia swung downward with all her strength, her grip tightening around her crimson blade.

Flames erupted violently from the edge.

VOOOOSHHH!!

BOOOOM!!!

She struck the ground with enough force to shake the entire arena, the fiery blast carving out a fresh crater beneath her feet.

The shockwave rippled outward, scorching the air.

But instead of satisfaction, Stacia simply clicked her tongue.

Tsk…

“You’re quite slippery…”

“Hehe~ being tricky is my specialty…” the dark spirit—wearing Flamme’s form like a second skin—answered with a coy, amused tone.

She stood only a few meters away, shadowy wisps coiling around her body.

Though she looked like she was enjoying herself, her guarded stance told a different truth.

Despite being a high-ranking spirit, she was painfully aware of the danger.

One solid, direct hit from Stacia’s flames would be enough to erase her existence back into the spirit realm.

And Stacia’s swordsmanship… it matched hers blow for blow.

Keeping the girl occupied was simple enough due to their similar styles, but the dark spirit knew she couldn’t drag this out forever.

’This needs to end soon… Is Master still not ready?’

She complained inwardly.

She had answered Flamme’s call without hesitation—after all, her master had once again gotten involved in something “fun.” But she hadn’t expected the situation to be this risky.

Even for her, this was pushing it.

Shadow curled tighter around her legs as she darted backward, eyes narrowing at Stacia’s renewed posture.

One misstep… and I’m done for.

Her playful smirk faded for a brief moment.

She knew Stacia was a human—fragile, mortal, bound by limits—yet watching the girl now, battered from head to toe, blood streaming down her arms, flames roaring hotter every second, the darkness spirit felt a cold bead of sweat slide down her spine.

How… how was she still moving?

Even with all these injuries, Stacia’s expression didn’t waver.

Her stance remained firm, her blade still steady.

And beneath her skin, beneath the burns and cuts, that terrifying well of fiery mana only continued to surge—expanding, adapting, evolving.

This human… she’s trouble.

Her instincts screamed at her—an ancient, primal warning honed from centuries in the spirit realm.

The longer this fight dragged on, the more dangerous Stacia would become.

Not to mention…

She and her master were not the only ones with a trump card.

Stacia’s flames—currently suppressed by Neru’s authority—were already beginning to flicker unnaturally, responding, resisting, pushing back against the debuffing aura.

The darkness spirit could feel it.

A low rumble.

A vibration.

Fire that was learning, analyzing, adapting.

Soon enough, her flames might simply devour Neru’s restraints whole.

If that happens… we’re the ones who’ll be erased.

She darted her gaze toward her master.

Flamme still stood several meters away, posture steady, magic circulating through her body in silent spirals.

Thanks to Val—the high-ranking wind spirit whose serpentine form flickered invisibly around her—Flamme remained hidden from Stacia’s senses.

Val’s stealth ability was absolute, masking not only mana but even physical presence.

And because of that invisibility, Flamme had enough time to gather mana—slowly consolidating and stabilizing the dangerous spell she intended to unleash next.

Their finishing move.

The darkness spirit’s lips curved into a sharp grin.

Good.

It was almost ready.

Once the spell was complete, the balance of this fight would tip entirely in their favor.

She shifted her gaze back to Stacia, who stood panting, yet unyielding, surrounded by the faint shimmer of rising heat.

The air cracked like heated glass around her.

This had to end before Stacia broke through all restraints.

“Alright…” the spirit whispered to herself, eyes narrowing. “Let’s keep her busy.”

Twin daggers materialized in her hands—black as the deepest abyss, gleaming with a faint purple sheen.

The spirit flipped them in reverse grip, the blades humming with lethal intent.

Then—

SHLUPP—

Her body melted into the ground, liquefying into shadow.

Stacia reacted instantly, instinct sharpening every nerve.

With a sharp breath she unleashed her flames, letting them swirl around her body like a raging inferno.

FOOOOOSH!!!

A shadow dagger pierced out of the ground.

—SLASH!!!—

But Stacia’s blade met it cleanly, the crimson steel shattering the dark construct in a single motion.

But then came another.

And another.

And then dozens—

One after another, dagger-shaped shadows erupted like black fangs from beneath her feet, from the air, from her own silhouette.

The darkness spirit’s voice echoed everywhere at once:

[SPIRIT AUTHORITY]

[SHADE BLADE]

With the command given, the daggers lifted as if grabbed by invisible hands, then hurled themselves at Stacia at mach-like speeds, turning the entire battleground into a storm of killing intent.

FOOOOOOOSHHH!!!

Before the dagger storm fully reached her, the darkness spirit smirked—and split herself apart.

Her body rippled and separated into multiple shadow clones that rose from the floor like black phantoms.

Each clone bore a different weapon forged from pure darkness—

a spear, broadsword, jagged bow, towering axe, a curved scythe, halberd and a brutal mace—every one of them radiating murderous hostility as they rushed in from all sides.

It was a perfect trap.

A net of death with no room for escape.

Thousands of blades.

Dozens of clones.

All attacking at once.

The darkness spirit felt excitement well in her chest.

She won’t escape unscathed.

Mana-burning flames or not, her authority over darkness and void should blunt enough of that absurd ability to pierce through.

This was the moment—the gap she needed.

She prepared to strike the killing blow—

But then—

Stacia moved.

It wasn’t a step.

Or a dash.

It was—

Light.

A single luminous streak of crimson-gold flashed through the battlefield like a moon tearing apart the night sky.

For a moment the darkness spirit froze, unable to process the sensation.

[HIDDEN BLADE TECHNIQUE: THIRD FORM]

[FULL MOON]

“Eh—?!!”

Her vision snapped open—only to feel her world turning sideways.

No—her head was turning.

Her neck had already been cut.

Not just her.

Every clone.

Every weapon.

Every summoned dagger.

All of it severed in a single clean instant.

But she was in the shadows—!

How?

How did Stacia reach her?

How did she cut what shouldn’t be cut?

She had no time to think.

BOOOOM—!!!

Stacia’s mana-burning flames erupted outward, consuming every sliced shadow and clone in a brilliant storm of crimson fire.

The darkness spirit’s severed form ignited, the void screaming as it was forced to recoil back toward the spirit realm.

The last thing she saw before she was burnt away—

—was Stacia standing tall, her blade glowing like a sun.

“Woooahhh!!!”

“Did you see that just now!?”

“What the heck just happened!?”

“Hey—doesn’t that attack kinda remind you of senior Seo?!”

“That was insane!”

The crowd, stunned into explosive excitement, erupted into noise.

None of them could fully comprehend what they had just witnessed; all they knew was that the sword skill Stacia unleashed was too clean, too fast, too impossibly sharp to be anything normal.

Even the emperor, who had watched countless geniuses rise and fall, raised a brow in genuine intrigue at the technique’s flawless execution.

Stacia, meanwhile, felt the aftermath crash into her body.

Her hands trembled ever so slightly as she inhaled and exhaled in slow, controlled breaths.

The technique—hidden blade… the Third Form, Full Moon—was still too foreign.

Her body and mana had struggled to match its pace.

She could only unleash it once.

But once… was all she needed.

“U-ugh…! D-Damn it…!”

From the far side of the stage, Flamme finally reappeared—slumped, knees buckling.

Cuts streaked across her body, charred wounds marked her cheek and legs, every sign pointing to the devastating precision of Stacia’s slash.

Flamme staggered up, fury and disbelief twisting her face.

“W-What the hell was that, you—!”

Stacia looked at her with calm, unwavering eyes.

“The future.”

“What…?”

She didn’t clarify.

There was no point. Instead, Stacia leaned forward—her body bursting into motion like a crimson comet streaking across the battlefield.

FOOOOSH!!

“H-Hiiieeek!! N-NERUUUU!!!”

Flamme’s scream cracked with panic.

And then—

Stacia’s entire body froze.

Her eyes widened.

Her vision blurred.

Her heart seemed to stop mid-beat.

A crushing, suffocating pressure slammed into her from all sides—so heavy, so violent she instantly coughed out blood.

The stage felt like it vanished beneath her feet.

Her body—her bones—felt like they were being pulverized by the weight of the ocean’s deepest abyss.

’Wh—… what… is… this…?’

Her breathing hitched.

She wasn’t on the stage anymore.

She was drowning—in mana so ancient, so oppressive, it did not belong to any human or beast.

Slowly—painfully—Stacia forced her gaze forward.

And saw it.

A pair of golden reptilian eyes, slit-pupiled and burning with primordial authority.

A colossal serpentine body, its scales shimmering like deep-sea obsidian and sunlit gold.

A head… the size of a small mountain.

A Sea Dragon.

A creature whose existence should have been nothing more than myth—whose presence alone crushed mortals into despair.

The dragon lowered its massive head.

Its roar tore through the stage and the sky—

CROOOOOOOOAAAGHHHH!!!!!