The barrier shimmered faintly under the moonlight. The silver glow bled into the arena, sanctifying the blood-soaked ground with a calm that contrasted the storm brewing within.
The crowd was in an uproar. For the first time in their lives, they were witnessing something unbelievable—something that defied all logic.
Before their eyes, the duel that was supposed to be a one-on-one had shifted into something else entirely. Three figures of Walden now stood where there had once been only one. Each moved in perfect harmony, their steps, their breathing, even the rhythm of their grip identical, as though reality itself had spawned mirrors to obey him.
Solvane's hand trembled against his sword hilt, his grip unconsciously loosening. He could hardly believe it. His will to fight had been shaken.
"What's the matter, Your Majesty?" Walden's voice cut through the tension like a whip. His smile was sharp, mocking. "You can't stop now. What happened to your resolve? Your trump card? Or—don't tell me…" His laugh echoed, cruel. "That's all the Crown Prince has to offer? Pathetic."
The once-friendly veneer Walden wore before was gone. What remained was raw arrogance.
The three Wardens raised their wooden swords together, their movements as one. To the untrained eye, it was impossible to distinguish illusion from reality.
But Solvane's eyes narrowed. His thoughts churned.
They are not clones. Clones are independent of the main body… but these—these move too perfectly. They're illusions. He wants me to lose my composure, to attack blindly.
Walden tilted his head, feigning concern. "Your Majesty, are you stricken by fear? Are you afraid?"
Solvane's lips curved into a smirk. His eyes burned. "I would have fallen for this quite easily. But you know…" He tightened his grip on his sword. His voice rose, steady as steel. "You learned all this with godlike powers. I learned everything with myself alone—no help. And I swear, I will defeat you today."
His voice rang out, tranquil yet resolute.
The ground shook as Walden lunged forward, his speed soaring, the two mirages gliding beside him like phantoms. Solvane's stance changed. His aura shifted.
"Golden Knight: Last Stand!"
Gasps echoed through the crowd. It was a technique whispered about in awe—reserved for royalty. Unlike the common Last Stand, which warriors used to forcefully draw power from their bodies for offense, the royal variant transformed every fiber of strength into unyielding defense, anchoring the user like an immovable bulwark.
Strength surged from Solvane's shoulders, flowing into his back and legs, reinforcing his posture. His arms trembled with newfound power, his sword heavier, his gaze sharper.
And then—the three Wardens closed in.
The clash was deafening. The barrier quivered with every strike, rippling under the weight of their blows.
Solvane focused his eyes on the real Walden, ignoring the illusions. He was certain—certain—that if he struck true, the battle would end.
But Walden was more cunning than he imagined.
At the last instant, the illusions shifted, stepping slightly aside. The real Walden slipped in just enough to alter the flow. Solvane's sword clashed against his—but the two false Wardens did not vanish. Instead, they cut viciously across his sides.
Blood sprayed.
_Inside the barrier, Solvane pushed himself upright, his breath ragged, his chest burning where Walden's hilt had smashed into him. He staggered, one knee threatening to buckle, but he planted his sword into the ground and forced his body up. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. He spat it out, then dragged the back of his hand across his chin.
Yet, even as his body screamed in protest, his lips curved into a smile.
"I underestimated you, God's Eyes," Solvane said, his voice low but steady. The crowd, though unable to hear through the barrier, could see the gleam in his eyes. "I believed my skill alone would be enough… but you've gone beyond skill. You've not only mastered the royal battle arts, you've perfected them."
Walden tilted his head, silent, his clones still moving in perfect unison behind him.
Solvane continued, his voice growing firmer with each word, "I am fast, yet you match me. I was born with strength greater than most Aspars, yet you supplement your power with flawless technique. And now this… even this." His blood-streaked smile widened. "But this isn't enough. No… it just isn't."
Walden's brow furrowed. "What are you saying, Your Majesty? Was the blow that hard? I made sure they held back."
The prince's laughter rumbled weakly from his throat, golden flecks beginning to shimmer faintly across his battered body. His stance shifted, straightening, his aura rising again when moments ago it had seemed crushed.
"You told me my reason for fighting was lacking. That my goal wasn't enough," Solvane said, his words sharp as steel. His eyes locked with Walden's, unwavering. "But Walden—God's Eyes—you lack something as well."
Walden stiffened, his grip tightening on his sword. "What… did you say?"
Solvane raised his blade. The light around him intensified, his body glowing as though molten gold surged beneath his skin. His eyes sharpened, their glow cutting through the arena like twin suns.
"You have your gift," Solvane declared, his voice resonant. "Your divine vision. Your special power. Then it's only right for this to be fair."
The ground quaked faintly beneath his feet as the golden radiance spread, illuminating the entire barrier. The crowd gasped, shielding their eyes.
Walden's eyes widened. For the first time, the calm mask cracked. "That… that's—!"
"Face me again Walden-Gods eyes with everything you've got , This time, I will show you the resolve of a crown prince!"