Caspian’s lips parted slightly, exhaling slowly. His grip on Bloodmoon tightened.
And then—he laughed.
The stocky boy took a step forward, fists still glowing with rock-infused mana. He hesitated.
Caspian tilted his head. "What’s wrong?"
No response.
No one spoke.
Caspian met him head-on.
Bloodmoon clashed against stone-coated fists, sending vibrations up his arm.
He wasn’t stronger—but he didn’t need to be.
He sidestepped, dodging a wild swing, then drove his elbow into the boy’s jaw.
A crack. A stumble.
Not enough.
Caspian followed up—a downward slash aiming for the leg.
The boy barely managed to reinforce his shin with mana before the blade connected. Sparks flew.
Still—he buckled.
But Caspian didn’t get a chance to press further.
The dagger girl was already on him.
He spun just in time to block—her blade skimming past his cheek instead of his throat.
Too close.
She was fast.
Caspian ducked under her second strike, retaliating with a quick slash aimed at her ribs.
She twisted away.
Tsk.
A surge of water magic—the third opponent, the spear wielder, finally moved.
Caspian barely managed to raise his blade before a torrent of pressurized water crashed into him.
He was sent skidding backward.
They weren’t weak.
This wasn’t easy.
But that only made him smile wider.
Blood dripped down his cheek, mixing with the sweat.
"Ahhh…" Caspian rolled his shoulders, his muscles burning from the impact.
His voice came out too calm. "This is fun."
The dagger girl narrowed her eyes. "The hell is wrong with you?"
She clicked her tongue, already moving to attack again.
Caspian’s stance shifted—lower.
This time, when she lunged, he was already in her space.
Her dagger barely grazed his ribs before Bloodmoon drove straight through her forearm. Discover stories with freewebnovel
"Ahhhhhhhh"
A scream.
Caspian twisted the blade, feeling the hot rush of blood spill over his fingers.
Better.
The stocky boy came barreling back in.
Caspian yanked his sword free just in time to block.
Fists like boulders crashed against his guard—too strong to overpower.
So he didn’t.
Instead—he let himself get thrown back.
And as he staggered—he threw Bloodmoon.
The blade spun through the air—straight toward the water spear wielder.
She barely had time to react—dodging at the last second.
But Caspian wasn’t aiming for her.
Bloodmoon sliced into the ground near her feet—kicking up dirt, cutting off her momentum.
Caspian was already moving—closing the gap.
Too fast.
Her spear shot up—desperate—but she was off-balance.
Caspian caught her wrist, twisting it sharply.
A scream.
The spear clattered to the ground.
He slammed his knee into her stomach, then—in the same motion—brought his elbow crashing down on the back of her neck.
She crumpled.
Not eliminated—but down.
Caspian turned.
The dagger girl was still clutching her bleeding arm. The stocky boy was panting, fists still raised.
Caspian exhaled slowly, rolling his neck.
His body ached. This wasn’t easy.
But that was fine.
He reached down, retrieving Bloodmoon from the dirt.
Caspian exhaled sharply, rolling his shoulders as he faced them.
Follow curr𝒆nt nov𝒆ls on fɾeeweɓnѳveɭ.com.
Blood dripped from his side.
His opponents weren’t unscathed either.
The dagger girl’s arm was soaked in red, her movements slightly sluggish.
The stocky boy’s jaw was bruised from Caspian’s earlier counter, his breathing labored.
The water spear wielder lay on the ground, dazed but conscious.
Yet they didn’t back down.
Instead, the stocky boy grinned through his exhaustion. "He’s not invincible."
The dagger girl nodded, adjusting her stance. "We take him down together."
Caspian smirked, lifting his blade. "Try it."
They moved.
The dagger girl feinted right but flicked her blade at his eyes—’not to hit but for distraction’
Caspian instinctively tilted his head—’a fraction of a second.’
Enough time for the stocky boy to lunge ’low’—for a punch.
BAM!
’A direct hit.’
Pain exploded through Caspian’s ribs as the boy’s reinforced fist slammed into his open wound.
Blood splattered onto the dirt, and his vision **flashed white.**
Caspian staggered.
And that was when the dagger girl struck.
She twisted mid-air, using the stocky boy’s shoulder as a springboard, flipping over Caspian’s head.
In a blur, her dagger ’sliced across the back of his thigh.’
Caspian’s leg buckled.
He gritted his teeth, barely catching himself, but the momentary instability was all they needed. The stocky boy rushed in.
Caspian’s instincts screamed at him—move.
But his leg stung, his side throbbed, and for the first time in this fight, he was a step behind.
The boy’s punch connected with his ribs again.
Something cracked.
Caspian spat out blood.
His vision wavered—but his grip on Bloodmoon never loosened.
He twisted, using his momentum, and with one brutal swing—
Bloodmoon cleaved through the stocky boy’s shoulder.
The impact sent the boy crashing into the ground, groaning in agony. His arm hung limp, blood soaking his tunic.
Caspian exhaled sharply. One down.
The dagger girl cursed and lunged at him again, her movements desperate but precise. Caspian adjusted, ignoring the burning pain, his blade meeting her steel with a sharp clang.
Then Caspian moved—
A feint.
A step forward.
And then—
Bloodmoon pierced through her thigh.
"Ahhhhh"
She screamed, collapsing onto one knee, clutching the wound. Her dagger slipped from her grasp, landing in the dirt.
Caspian didn’t hesitate. He twisted the blade—just enough to make her drop completely, her breathing ragged.
Two down.
That left—
A sudden shift in the air.
Caspian’s instincts flared, and he spun just in time to see a wall of water surging toward him.
The spear wielder—barely standing, blood dripping from her temple—wasn’t done yet.
Her final attack crashed into Caspian with the force of a tidal wave, knocking him off his feet.
His back slammed into the dirt, his body aching, breath stolen from his lungs.
For a moment, everything was silent.
Then—
Footsteps.
The spear wielder took a shaky step forward, gripping her weapon with both hands.
Her eyes burned with determination—this was her last strike, her final chance to turn the tide.
Caspian pushed himself up, but his body protested.
He saw it coming—the spear, aimed straight for his heart.
Too late.
The weapon descended.
And then—
Roots erupted from the ground, twisting around the spear, stopping it inches from Caspian’s chest.
A powerful presence filled the air.
Caspian’s gaze lifted—
Long silver hair. Eyes like the deep forest. A sharp, unreadable expression.
Vynesaa.
She stood at the edge of the battlefield, her gaze sweeping over the wounded combatants—then landing on Caspian.
Her lips parted.
"Well," she murmured, tilting her head. "That was… unexpected."
Caspian let out a breathless chuckle, blood dripping from his lip.
The spear wielder, barely conscious, trembled as the roots constricted her weapon, forcing it from her grasp.
The fight was over.
Caspian sighed, finally allowing himself to collapse onto one knee, exhaustion catching up to him.
He smirked up at Vynesaa. "Took you long enough."