Chapter 39: Chapter: 39 You?

Vivian and Kafrik’s blades collided, sparks tearing through the air like fragments of fire.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

Steel screamed with each strike, the sound echoing through the crystal field as both poured their weight, their fury, into every swing.

’I need to finish this now.’ Vivian’s gaze flicked to the limp forms of Asmit and Subha.

Their breaths rasped, shallow and ragged.

Blood loss had drained their faces ghost-white, and each second he wasted dragged them closer to death.

Escape wasn’t an option. Not while Kafrik barred the way.

Grinding his teeth, Vivian drew every shred of aura into his blade. Power flared, the steel glowing faintly as he carved downward with lethal intent.

Clang!

Kafrik caught the strike, but the force rattled him.

His boots scraped against the crystal-strewn floor as he stumbled back, the mocking grin on his face flickering for the first time.

Kafrik faltered, his stance broken for the briefest of seconds, and Vivian pounced.

His blade lunged straight for Kafrik’s heart, every ounce of killing intent poured into the strike.

The moment steel threatened him, Kafrik snapped back into balance. With a twist of his wrist, his sword turned flat and slid in front of his chest.

Shrikk!

Vivian’s blade screeched against the makeshift shield, sparks spitting out, but he didn’t force it further. Instead, his left fist shot forward.

Bam!

The punch cracked against Kafrik’s face, raw and unrestrained. The impact rang louder than steel, and for once, Kafrik wasn’t ready.

His head snapped to the side as he staggered back, boots grinding across the crystal floor.

’He’s gotten better,’ Vivian noted inwardly, watching Kafrik stumble back.

If it had been the Kafrik of the past, he would have already broken into curses. Now, though… there was a flicker of restraint—

“You son of a bitch!” Kafrik roared, stomping the ground hard enough to crack the crystal beneath his boots.

He launched forward, his aura drenched in murderous intent.

Vivian’s lips curled in a grimace. ’No… this bastard hasn’t changed at all.’ His grip tightened on the hilt, breath steadying as he braced for the storm.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

Steel howled through the air, their blades colliding in a storm of sparks.

Kafrik swung like a madman, every strike bent on tearing flesh, ripping Vivian apart.

But Vivian met him blow for blow, his own strikes just as merciless, just as lethal.

Blood sprayed. Cuts opened across Kafrik’s body, each exchange carving him deeper. Vivian, by contrast, bore only a shallow graze along his cheek.

And yet, both of them were running ragged. Breath after ragged breath, muscles burning, their duel pressed on.

Exhaustion painted their faces, but neither loosened their grip. Neither stepped back.

It was a fight only one would walk away from.

’This bastard…’ Kafrik seethed inwardly.

The fight hadn’t lasted long, yet his body was already riddled with wounds, blood dripping from half a dozen cuts.

Meanwhile, Vivian stood across from him with nothing but a scratch on his cheek. The imbalance clawed at his pride, stoking his rage.

“Take this—!” he spat through clenched teeth. Aura flared violently around his wrists and blade, sparking as he swung in a wide, horizontal arc meant to cleave Vivian in two.

But Vivian moved like water. His body bent low with fluid grace, his sword tilting just enough to catch and divert the blow.

The attack passed harmlessly, its fury wasted on empty air.

Before Kafrik could recover, Vivian’s boot slammed into his gut.

Bam!

Air burst from Kafrik’s lungs as he was hurled backward. He crashed against the crystal ground, rolling violently before grinding to a stop.

Coughs racked his chest as he forced himself upright, blood spattering from his lips while he struggled to steady his stance.

’No… this won’t do. I can’t defeat him like this.’ Kafrik’s chest heaved as the thought cut through his fury.

His gaze locked on Vivian, who kept flicking worried eyes toward the bloodied forms of Asmit and Subha.

That look of impatience only twisted the knife deeper.

’Where are you?’ he snarled inwardly, calling to the presence he had come to rely on.

His mind clawed at the silence, agitation building with every unanswered second.

Nothing. No voice. No reply.

“Damn it!” Kafrik roared, rage spilling out as he cursed aloud. His boots hammered the crystal floor—stomp!—before his body shot upward.

Gripping his sword with both hands, he soared into the air, aura blazing around him like a storm about to break.

Vivian, steadying his breath, shook off his agitation and let out a sharp snort.

His movements turned precise, calculated. In one swift motion, he drew a dagger from his waist and hurled it toward Kafrik.

“What the..?”

The sudden throw caught Kafrik off guard. Mid-air, he had no freedom, no room to dodge.

The blade was aimed straight for his throat, leaving him only one option: block.

Clang!

Steel met steel as Kafrik deflected the dagger with his sword. But even as relief flickered across his face, he realized his mistake.

Vivian was already there. Sword raised.

Shhhk!

The blade pierced forward, aiming for his heart. Kafrik’s eyes widened, he had expected this, feared it, and yet still felt the cold dread coil in his gut.

With a desperate twist, he shoved his left shoulder into the blade’s path.

Chik!

Flesh split. Blood gushed in hot streams down his arm. His scream tore through the arena as the impact ripped the sword from his hands.

“Ahhhhhhh!”

He dropped to his knees, clutching the wound, his weapon clattering uselessly against the crystal ground.

Vivian stared down at the wailing figure of Kafrik.

The man was a broken mess, clutching his shoulder, blood and mucus streaming down his face as his pathetic cries echoed through the crystal field.

’Should I kill him?’

The thought was a cold, sharp intrusion. It was a good idea. A perfect one, in fact.

Kafrik had not only dared to ambush him in the middle of an exam, risking the lives of Asmit and Subha, but he was also a colossal failure of a character.

He was trash compared to what Vivian, the author, had originally written him to be—a pathetic, whining caricature.

It would be a mercy killing, a swift deletion to prevent this fucking trash of a character from ever disrespecting his writing again.

’Yes, I should kill him right now.’

He decided. The original story be damned.

It was already messed up beyond recognition.

And if the plot continued on its ruined path, it meant the future death of Charlotte, a fate he absolutely could not allow.

Killing this bastard here and now was the best possible course of action, a necessary edit.

Vivian raised his blade. The steel caught the ambient light, its polished edge resting above Kafrik’s head, ready to fall and deliver the final, brutal cut.

But oddly, Kafrik didn’t show any reaction as Vivian was about to cut him down.

The wailing had ceased the moment the flat of Vivian’s blade was raised for the final strike, leaving Kafrik’s body rigid in place, his face buried in his arms.

“This bast… hm?”

Suddenly, a terrifying pressure slammed into Vivian’s senses.

His head whipped around, and he instinctively moved his sword—the one he’d just used to knock out Kafrik—to block the incoming strike.

The movement was pure reflex, fueled by a primal alarm his mind hadn’t even processed yet.

A discordant shriek, like a thousand shards of glass shattering at once, tore through the air.

Shrikk!

With that glass-breaking sound, the sword Vivian had frantically raised snapped.

The steel, which had offset countless blows and diverted Kafrik’s furious attacks, shattered into glittering fragments.

Chik!

The strike pierced through him.

A cold, agonizing pressure erupted in his chest. Vivian staggered back, his vision momentarily tunneling as the sword was pulled out of him with a sickening tug.

Warm, viscous blood immediately began gushing out of the wound in his right lung.

He dropped his own broken blade, clutching his chest, his breath catching in a painful, bubbling gasp.

With trembling, horrified eyes, he looked up at the attacker and froze.

“…You…?” he stammered, the word escaping as a bloody cough.

The sudden assailant stood before him, the pristine, chillingly elegant sword held steady, completely unmarked by the lethal blow it had just delivered.

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