Crimson Overlord

Chapter 439: Black Raven’s Ascension 1

The underground arena had not settled since Black Raven’s stunning victory.

Conversations echoed through every corridor.

Gamblers frantically rewrote the odds.

Merchants argued over whether the mysterious masked swordswoman was a vampire, a demon noble, or a wandering sword saint in disguise.

No one knew.

That only made her more fascinating.

"Did you see how she defeated Gormak?"

"She broke his balance instead of overpowering him."

"She barely used any mana."

"Who trained her?"

The chants began again.

"BLACK RAVEN!"

"BLACK RAVEN!"

"BLACK RAVEN!"

Back in the waiting chamber, Luna sat quietly with her eyes closed, paying no attention to the excitement surrounding her.

Her breathing remained slow.

Even.

Controlled.

The noise outside might as well have belonged to another world.

Inside her mind echoed only one voice.

"Victory is not permission to become careless."

Orpheus’ lessons.

"Every opponent deserves respect."

"The moment praise enters your head, your guard falls."

Luna smiled faintly beneath her mask.

"I know."

The announcer’s booming voice interrupted the room.

"Contestant Number Two Hundred Seventeen!"

"BLACK RAVEN!"

A wave of excitement swept through the fighters.

"She’s up again!"

"I want to see what she can do!"

"Let’s find out if the first victory was luck."

Luna stood, adjusted the sword at her waist, and walked toward the arena entrance.

This time...

The cheering started before the gates even opened.

"BLACK RAVEN!"

"BLACK RAVEN!"

"BLACK RAVEN!"

The enormous iron doors slowly parted.

The scarlet lights of the coliseum washed over her as she stepped into the arena once more.

Thousands of spectators stood.

The mysterious outsider had become the center of attention overnight.

The announcer grinned broadly.

"Yesterday’s biggest surprise returns!"

"The swordswoman who defeated the Gray Mountain!"

"The undefeated newcomer!"

"BLACK RAVEN!"

The arena erupted.

Luna raised one hand in acknowledgment before calmly walking toward the center.

She neither celebrated nor sought attention.

That composure only made the audience cheer louder.

Across the battlefield...

Another massive gate groaned open.

Heavy footsteps echoed.

Not as heavy as Gormak’s.

Sharper.

More disciplined.

Out stepped a towering demon clad in black armor scarred by countless battles.

Unlike Gormak’s overwhelming size, this warrior radiated lethal experience.

His skin was dark crimson.

Two curved obsidian horns rose from his forehead.

A jagged scar crossed one glowing eye.

Resting across his shoulder was an enormous two-handed sword nearly as tall as Luna herself.

The blade was chipped.

Old.

Used.

The kind of weapon that had survived countless wars.

The announcer’s voice thundered again.

"Her opponent..."

"The Butcher of Ash Valley!"

"Winner of twenty-three arena battles!"

"Executioner-class warrior..."

"DRAKHAR!"

The response shook the arena.

"DRAKHAR!"

"DRAKHAR!"

"DRAKHAR!"

Drakhar planted his sword into the stone with a deafening clang.

His lone crimson eye studied Luna.

"So..."

His voice was calm.

"They’re sending yesterday’s hero."

Luna rested one hand on her own sword.

"I suppose they are."

"I watched your last fight."

"Oh?"

"You rely on speed."

"And observation."

He slowly drew his enormous blade.

"I’ll take both away."

The bell rang.

Neither moved.

An eerie silence spread across the battlefield.

The crowd leaned forward.

Waiting.

Watching.

Then—

CRACK!!

The arena floor exploded beneath Drakhar’s feet.

He vanished.

"So fast!"

Gasps rippled through the audience.

His massive sword descended toward Luna like a collapsing fortress.

BOOM!!

The impact shattered stone.

A crater spread across the arena.

Dust exploded everywhere.

"...Did he get her?"

The smoke drifted.

Luna wasn’t there.

She appeared several meters away.

Her hood fluttered gently.

Drakhar smiled.

"Good."

Without warning, Luna attacked.

She accelerated like a black arrow.

Her sword flashed.

Clang!

Drakhar intercepted with effortless precision.

The collision released a violent shockwave that scattered loose stones across the arena.

Again.

Again.

Again.

Steel screamed against steel.

Unlike Gormak...

Drakhar gave her no obvious opening.

His defense was nearly flawless.

Each swing carried terrifying weight yet remained incredibly precise.

Luna found herself retreating.

The audience noticed immediately.

"She’s being pushed back!"

"This demon is different!"

"No wild attacks!"

"He’s reading her!"

Drakhar pressed the advantage.

His sword became a storm.

Horizontal slash.

Vertical strike.

Spinning cut.

Every attack flowed seamlessly into the next.

Luna’s blade met each one.

Clang!

Clang!

Clang!

Sparks illuminated the battlefield like fireworks.

High above, veteran spectators exchanged glances.

"Excellent fundamentals."

"The girl is improving."

"She’s calmer."

"But this opponent..."

"...is forcing her to fight properly."

Luna slid backward across the stone.

Her arms tingled from the repeated impacts.

"Heavy..."

Much heavier than Gormak.

This wasn’t brute strength.

This was refined power.

Drakhar advanced without rushing.

"You’ve been taught well."

Luna smiled beneath the mask.

"I could say the same."

Their swords met once more.

The impact sent both skidding backward.

The audience erupted.

"What a clash!"

"They’re evenly matched!"

Drakhar suddenly changed his stance.

Lower.

More compact.

Luna’s instincts immediately screamed.

Danger.

He disappeared again.

This time...

Even faster.

Her pupils narrowed.

She barely managed to block.

BOOOOM!!

The force blasted her several meters backward.

Cracks spread beneath her boots.

The crowd gasped.

"She actually got pushed back!"

Drakhar continued relentlessly.

Each strike grew faster.

More powerful.

The battlefield became a blur of flashing steel.

Luna remembered another lesson.

"Don’t fight your opponent’s rhythm."

"Create your own."

She inhaled slowly.

Her heartbeat steadied.

Instead of matching Drakhar’s speed...

She slowed.

Her movements became smaller.

Sharper.

More efficient.

Drakhar’s next strike came.

She sidestepped by only a fraction.

The massive blade missed.

One precise slash.

His shoulder armor split open.

The crowd exploded.

"She countered!"

"Incredible timing!"

Drakhar looked down at the shallow cut.

Then laughed.

A genuine laugh.

"Excellent."

His aura surged.

Crimson mana erupted around him like flames.

"So you’ve finally decided to fight."

The pressure swept across the arena.

Many weaker spectators instinctively leaned back.

The magical barrier surrounding the battlefield shimmered violently.

Luna narrowed her eyes.

"So this is your real strength."

Drakhar nodded.

"Show me yours."

She slowly drew upon her own mana.

Not recklessly.

Exactly as Orpheus had taught her.

Mana flowed smoothly through every muscle.

Every breath.

Every step.

The air around her became strangely still.

The spectators noticed immediately.

"...What changed?"

"I don’t know..."

"But she feels..."

"...dangerous."

Both disappeared simultaneously.

BOOOOM!!

Their swords collided in the center of the arena.

The explosion of force sent dust spiraling skyward.

Again.

Clang!

Again!

Clang!

Again!

The battlefield shook beneath their feet.

Every collision echoed like thunder.

Neither gave an inch.

Neither yielded.

The audience had abandoned sitting entirely.

Thousands stood screaming.

"BLACK RAVEN!"

"DRAKHAR!"

"BLACK RAVEN!"

"DRAKHAR!"

The entire underground coliseum trembled beneath the chants.

---

Sweat rolled beneath Luna’s mask.

Her breathing grew heavier.

Drakhar was smiling.

He was enjoying this.

So was she.

For the first time in a long while...

She had found someone capable of pushing her this far.

Drakhar swung downward.

She deflected.

Pivoted.

Stepped inside his guard.

A quick thrust.

He twisted away.

The blade grazed his side.

He answered with an elbow strike.

She blocked with her forearm and slid backward.

Both separated.

Breathing hard.

Smiling.

"You’ve grown stronger than I expected," Drakhar admitted.

"You aren’t bad yourself."

The audience laughed and cheered.

"Listen to them!"

"They’re complimenting each other!"