On the third floor, on the outer wall beyond the collapsed wing, someone could be heard breathing heavily.

An Ran stood on the exterior wall of the villa as if gravity did not exist, gasping frantically. He looked up in the distance, but sweat trickled down his forehead into his eyes, stinging sharply and blurring his vision.

On the surface of the pond stood a figure, and scattered all around it were countless pieces of scrap metal. All of them had been either shattered and twisted out of shape, or held in that eerie figure’s hands as he examined them closely.

Wolf Pot[1], Dragon Head[2], Leaning Pole[3], Horizontal Pot[4]... He had used every technique he was proficient in, yet he could not inflict even the slightest damage on his opponent. Instead, he was already close to exhaustion.

In just a moment of distraction, a chilling sense of danger crawled up his spine. He twisted in place sharply, and a blood-red crystalline arrow brushed past his temple and nailed itself into the wall, piercing through three layers before shooting into the night sky and vanishing without a trace.

“Is that all?” The White Deer Chosen One known as Slaughterblood let out a soft sigh, crushing the piece of iron in his hand into...