Chijiao’s battle axe came crashing down.
The dark red patterns on the blade no longer pulsed with a dim-bright rhythm.
They lit up completely, like ignited blood.
Masiweiluo sidestepped.
The axe blade dug into the grass, sending dirt and leaves flying, leaving nine mud spots on her silver-white pauldron.
She thrust her lance backhand, the tip striking Chijiao’s chestplate.
He didn’t retreat.
A dent appeared on the armor, but he paid it no mind.
The battle axe swept back around.
Masiweiluo leaped back.
The blade passed by her waist, the wind pressure whipping her ponytail behind her.
They reopened the distance between them.
Sunlight shone on the torn turf between them, illuminating everything clearly.
Someone in the audience called Masiweiluo’s name.
Someone else called Chijiao’s.
The two waves of sound collided, and it was impossible to tell which was louder.
Masiweiluo’s breathing was already getting heavier—each of Chijiao’s strikes was heavier than the last.
She had the advantage in speed, but she couldn’t block the impact of the battle axe crashing against her lance shaft.
Chijiao didn’t keep chasing.
He set the battle axe upright at his side, raised his other hand, and pressed it against the center of his chestplate.
From the seams of the deep red armor, a dark red light began to seep out.
Blood seeped from beneath the plates, trickling down the armor’s grooves until it reached the waist, where it was absorbed by the edge of the plate.
Then dark red light burst from every seam at once.
The entire suit of armor looked as if it had been ignited from within.
Only the announcer wanted to stir things up.
Masiweiluo raised her lance.
“Blood magic! Contestant Chijiao has used blood magic for the first time!”
She knew this move—in last year’s finals, Chijiao had used blood magic to strengthen himself, doubling both his strength and speed.
Then he sent his opponent off on a stretcher.
But this technique had severe backlash on the dark elves themselves.
It could easily drain their strength afterward, or even kill them.
“Chijiao, you don’t have to.”
“Whether I have to or not isn’t up to you.”
Chijiao’s voice came from beneath his helmet, as if every word was squeezed from the depths of his chest.
He took a step forward.
His boot pressed into the grass.
The blood magic had already begun absorbing his own power and the power around him.
The grass blades wilted instantly at the touch of the dark red light.
Masiweiluo charged in—trying to interrupt his blood magic before it fully activated.
Her lance thrust toward his wrist.
Chijiao didn’t let her stop his casting so easily.
He grabbed the lance shaft with his other hand.
The iron gauntlet and the lance scraped sparks, producing a grating sound.
The tip of Masiweiluo’s lance stopped less than a fist away from his chest, the shaft firmly gripped in his hand.
His five fingers clamped around the lance body, which was coated in silver-white light.
The iron on the gauntlets smoked from the radiance, but he still didn’t let go.
Masiweiluo tried to pull the lance back.
Chijiao yanked it toward himself.
Masiweiluo was dragged along.
Then his shoulder slammed into her breastplate.
She stumbled back several steps, her boots carving two shallow grooves in the grass, and dropped to one knee.
The lance was still in her hand, but the hand holding it was trembling.
Chijiao stood before her.
The battle axe was still upright at his side, his other hand still pressed against his chest.
The dark red light had spread from the armor’s seams to his entire body.
The light in the gaps of his helmet was no longer dark red, but close to crimson.
“Masiweiluo, tell me.”
“You weren’t fighting for money. I knew that from the start. You weren’t fighting for fame, either.”
Masiweiluo slowly rose from her kneeling position.
Her knees were shaking, but she stood up straight.
She raised the lance again, pointing its tip at Chijiao.
“Then what do you think it is?”
“I’m not sure. That’s why I’m asking.”
Chijiao lifted the battle axe from his side.
The dark red patterns on the blade had become bright enough to sting the eyes.
“You could have signed a contract. You could have taken the money. You didn’t have to go to the medical ward after every match to check on the opponents you defeated.”
Masiweiluo didn’t answer.
She took a deep breath.
Silver-white magical light seeped from the cracks in her armor, surged from the carvings of the galloping horse emblem.
A silver-white flame enveloped her entire body.
Then she charged.
Three thrusts in rapid succession.
The first struck at Chijiao’s left knee.
The second at his right shoulder.
The third at the center of his chest.
Chijiao blocked the first two with his axe.
The third hit his chestplate, sinking in a fist-sized dent.
But he didn’t retreat.
He stepped forward.
The battle axe came down from above, the blade wrapped in dark red blood light.
Masiweiluo raised her lance horizontally to block.
The axe blade struck the shaft.
Silver-white flame collided with dark red blood light, producing a piercing screech.
Masiweiluo’s feet sank into the grass.
Her knees bent.
A fine crack appeared on the lance shaft.
She wasn’t sure how much stronger Chijiao was than last year.
So the only way to stop his reckless behavior now was to limit his movements with all her strength.
“Tell me—what are you fighting for—to this extent!”
Chijiao’s voice carried an urgency for the first time, almost anxious.
Masiweiluo clenched her teeth.
Flame burst from her entire body, twice as bright as before.
She stepped forward, shoved the axe aside with her lance shaft, and thrust.
The tip pierced the seam of Chijiao’s left shoulder plate.
Dark red blood mixed with armor fragments splattered out.
Chijiao grunted.
The battle axe swept sideways, the blade striking her waist.
A crack appeared in the silver-white armor.
Both of them retreated at the same time.
Chijiao pressed his left shoulder.
Dark red blood seeped through his fingers.
Masiweiluo clutched her side.
Silver light also leaked through her fingers.
She stood upright and raised the lance again.
“I’m fighting to—”
Masiweiluo’s voice forced its way through her teeth.
“I’m fighting so that those who can’t fight—can have a place to live without having to fight!”
She charged in.
Not with a thrust of the lance, not with light magic.
She just threw herself at him.
Silver-white flame exploded around her.
The lance tip slammed into Chijiao’s shoulder plate.
Chijiao grunted.
He didn’t counterattack.
He didn’t rush.
He waited.
He waited for her to finish.
The lance pushed forward inch by inch.
Chijiao still held the battle axe in his hand, but he didn’t swing it.
The blood light on the blade was slowly fading.
“Aren’t you the same!”
Masiweiluo’s lance tip drove in a little deeper.
“You—”
Chijiao’s voice squeezed from the back of his throat.
“We’re both fighting this hard for our own companions…”
“I’m different from you!”
Chijiao grabbed her lance shaft and pulled the tip out of his shoulder.
Then he punched Masiweiluo’s shoulder plate.
She was sent flying sideways, crashing onto the grass.
The lance slipped from her hand and rolled a few steps away.
Chijiao’s blood dripped onto the broken grass.
He pressed his right shoulder.
His knee finally gave way, and he dropped to one knee.
His strength was almost exhausted.
Chijiao’s blood magic began to backfire.
Masiweiluo didn’t go for her lance.
She picked herself up from the grass.
Chijiao prepared to step forward, to land the final blow on Masiweiluo, but suddenly his strength drained rapidly.
His whole body sagged like a deflated balloon.
As a residual-blood-class dark elf, Chijiao was essentially burning his own life to fight Masiweiluo.
Without activating his skills, he probably had no chance against her.
He had relied on his skills to hold on this long—this was his absolute limit…
Chijiao finally fell backward.
The battle axe slipped from his loosened grip and stuck diagonally into the grass.
The ring-shaped lights of the arena dome shone down on him.
His back hit the grass.
The dark red blood patterns on his deep red armor faded one by one, returning to ordinary red.
He lay there.
The dark red pupils behind the gaps of his helmet stared at the arena.
His breathing was heavy.
The referee raised the flag.
The volume on the loudspeaker was pushed to maximum.
The announcer stood up from the broadcaster’s table.
The cuffs of his silver suit slipped down.
“An unexpected but reasonable result!”
As soon as the match result was announced, the audience erupted.
Cheers, stomping feet, the clatter of support signs.
The runic patterns on the barrier flickered violently from the shockwave.
The entire arena floor vibrated.
The grass in the center of the arena split along the midline.
A stone platform slowly rose from the crack.
Deep red carpet was spread across the platform.
In the center of the carpet sat a golden trophy.
The champion’s name was already engraved on the base of the trophy—Masiweiluo.
Spotlights from the edge of the dome converged at the same moment.
Over a dozen beams gathered on the platform, making the golden trophy blindingly bright.
Masiweiluo did not walk toward the award platform.
She did something that surprised everyone.
She crouched beside Chijiao, slid one arm under his armpit, and helped him sit up from the grass.
Chijiao was too heavy.
The deep red armor plus his own weight—she couldn’t lift him alone.
Gritting her teeth, she forced his arm over her shoulder and carried him upright.
“What… what are you doing.”
Chijiao’s voice came from beneath his helmet, weaker than before.
The price of blood magic was draining the last of his strength.
“I’m… bringing you up too.”
Masiweiluo’s voice was drowned out by the spotlights, streamers, and cheers.
She carried Chijiao like that, step by step, onto the award platform.
The announcer froze.
The microphone was held to his lips.
He usually dragged out his final syllables for fifteen seconds, but now he couldn’t draw out a single word.
The cheers from the audience also stalled—everyone, at the very same moment, didn’t know what to shout.
They were thrown off by Masiweiluo’s sudden action.
Masiweiluo helped Chijiao sit on the platform, next to the golden trophy.
“Humph. You’re saying that to show me respect, aren’t you.”
“No.”
“But… you’re the champion.”
“I don’t care about winning or losing.”
“Then… what are you doing?”
“Our companions are all so weak and helpless. There’s no need for us to fight to the death. The horse clan and the dark elves have never had any hatred. You and I both fight to protect our own people.”
“As long as… as long as we both stay alive, that’s the greatest victory.”
On the award platform.
Chijiao leaned against the trophy base.
His deep red armor was covered in dents and sword marks.
Half of his shoulder plate was shattered.
The dark red light in the gaps of his helmet was barely visible.
Masiweiluo stood beside him.
A crack ran down the side of her silver-white armor, and silver magical light still leaked from her waist.
Her brown hair fell from beneath her knight’s helmet, stuck to her shoulder plate by sweat and Chijiao’s blood.
She didn’t raise the trophy.
She didn’t wave to the audience.
She didn’t do anything a champion was supposed to do.
Logically speaking, as the champion, Masiweiluo had every right to ignore Chijiao.
But her current actions were baffling.
The trophy remained where it was.
Masiweiluo just looked at the people in the audience, at the fans still filled with enthusiasm and excitement.