“How dare you, you wretch!” In an instant, Mirin was right in front of Dan, so close that mere centimeters separated them. His eyes narrowed to slits, his face elongated, not a trace of his arrogant smile remained—only pure, unadulterated fury.

  Dan noted the speed with which the distance had been closed, but the Lord’s body moved before his mind could fully register it. A tightly clenched fist was already boring into Mirin's stomach.

  The impact.

  Mirin was torn from his spot. His body slammed into the wall with such a thunderous crash that the entire hall shuddered. The stone cracked, a wide hole forming in the marble masonry. Debris showered down, dust rained from the ceiling, heavy blocks shifted menacingly, and only the columns still held the vault of the throne room aloft.

  From Dan’s fist to the hole in the wall stretched a long trail of black energy, etching the trajectory of the flight in the air.

  “How dare you!” Mirin shouted, tearing himself from the wall, “I’ll…”

  He didn’t get to finish. Mirin once again felt an icy fist against his stomach and found himself embedded even deeper into the cold marble. Dan, who had been holding back his power for four thousand years, felt his might anew. Though the blows were powerful, they were insufficient to defeat a being created to correct an "error." Though Dan sensed Mirin was far from ordinary, something still planted a seed of doubt within him.

  "He’s fast. Strong. After two direct hits—almost no damage… But still, something’s off.", Dan narrowed his eyes, listening to his doubts.

  “Aghk…” Coughing, Mirin extricated himself from the stone crater. Gray dust cascaded from his snow-white robes, but he merely brushed it lazily from his mantle, jumped back to the floor, and straightened up opposite Dan.

  “Well then… you are an order of magnitude stronger than I expected,” a smirk slowly returned to his face, “The one who came before you was also strong… but you…”

  The thought he didn’t voice aloud cut through him:

  "No wonder, the aura around his body… it’s staining the air…"

  His eye twitched—whether from fear or sudden realization.

  "…it’s devouring the space around it."

  Darkness thickened around Dan, as if pouring from his body in an endless stream. It trembled like black flame, distorted the atmosphere, made the walls vibrate. It seemed the very hall was slowly dissolving into this gloom.

  “Pfft,” Mirin bared his teeth again and vanished.

  An instant. And he was before the Lord.

  His fist smashed solidly into the Lord’s jaw. A crunch sounded—but Dan didn’t budge. He merely turned his head slightly, as if checking if he’d felt the blow correctly.

  "What?! He’s standing?!", Mirin’s face broke into a smile, "Incredible! What power! Well then… let’s play a little more!"

  Dan’s fist landed on Mirin’s face the very same second.

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  A shockwave ripped through the hall—the floor buckled, dust plumed into a column, stone fragments tore into the air and danced in a vortex, crashing against the walls.

  Mirin flew sideways, but in a blink, he was before Dan again. Blows rained down with a speed the human eye couldn’t possibly follow.

  The roar was such that any mortal would have long gone deaf and lost consciousness.

  “Aaaah!” Mirin’s scream tore through the throne room, accompanied by another swift strike.

  But this time, the fist cut only air—Dan had already vanished from the strike zone and, crouching, found himself in a favorable position for a counterblow. His fist was already ready—primed, tightly clenched, and the Darkness around it vibrated.

  “Not this time!” Mirin roared.

  His reaction was nearly perfect. Pivoting on his heel, he drove a powerful kick into the Lord’s shoulder. The blow was so strong the stone floor beneath their feet cracked. The Lord was thrown back, sent tumbling head over heels across the hall.

  He flew almost the entire length of the hall, leaving a dark trail behind him, and only a massive column managed to halt his momentum. The stone mass trembled, something cracking within the column.

  Dust showered from above.

  Dan lifted his head, assessing the aftermath. A shadow of cold calculation flashed in his gaze.

  "Strong… incredibly strong. If this continues… this chamber won’t hold."

  He pressed his palm to the floor—it vibrated like a taut string.

  "The columns are already cracked. A few more blows like that and the ceiling will collapse. And if he plans to use that against me…" his eyes narrowed.

  Mirin, breathing heavily, watched Dan. On his face was not fear—but a pained, growing admiration. He acknowledged his opponent.

  "Not a scratch… I put so much force into that blow it should have torn him apart… And he…"

  His lips trembled into a smirk.

  "In that case…"

  The air around Mirin began to tremble.

  A ringing crackle filled the throne hall. A sword began to materialize in Mirin’s hands. White, blindingly white, as if carved from the horn of an ancient dragon. Pulsing. Veins of purple magic ran along the blade like nerves.

  The sword trembled.

  Mirin raised the weapon and pointed it directly at Dan.

  “Time to end this,” he hissed, and the white blade erupted with light.

  This maneuver will expend almost all the energy I have left… One precise thrust—and it’s over, Mirin recited to himself, preparing to finish his opponent.

  The sword pulsed in Mirin’s hand as if alive. Gripping the hilt tightly, he channeled more and more mana into the blade. Streams of magic raced across the white surface of the sword like lightning under transparent ice.

  Dan frowned.

  "If he touches me even once… I’ll share Bark’s fate. Even if I summon Ligar, healing will take time I don’t have…"

  His gaze darkened.

  "In that case…"

  A black shadow tore from its spot.

  The floor cracked beneath him, leaving behind only a trail of thick "smoke"—settling Darkness that couldn’t keep up with the Lord’s body.

  “Bare-handed?! Against this sword?! You’re insane!” Mirin roared.

  He sidestepped and slashed—a perfectly calculated strike, aimed precisely at the point where Dan was bound to be.

  The blade stopped, meeting something solid.

  “What?” flashed through Mirin’s mind as he tried to comprehend if he’d hit his mark. He couldn’t see Dan through the clouds of dust billowing into the air.

  As the dust settled, Mirin recoiled.

  Before him stood a black silhouette.

  A two-handed sword, shrouded in a dark glow, had stopped the blow.

  “Kan…” Mirin hissed, scrutinizing the Guardian of Darkness.

  The ancient warrior, emerged from the Darkness. Kan—one of the five Guardians of the Lord of Darkness. Tall. Hulking. Motionless as a statue. His armor—massive plates, black as lunar shadow, their edges outlined by the bright green glow inherent to all Guardians. Eyes—two emerald torches frozen beneath a heavy helmet.

  Every one of his breaths seemed to shake the earth.

  Matching strength with Mirin, Kan applied maximum effort to knock the snow-white sword from the opponent’s grasp with a single motion.

  “Useless,” Mirin whispered quietly. His sword pulsed even stronger, absorbing another surge of magical energy.

  Crunch.

  The blade shattered in two, as if made not of darkness, but of glass.

  The eyes of the Lord of Darkness widened for the first time in the entire battle. He couldn’t believe it.

  “H…how…?” was the only question pounding in Dan’s head.

  Mirin, blazing with triumph, raised his sword over Kan:

  “Don’t get in the way, you bug!"