“Done!”

  Elios dragged his finger across the final line of the sigil and spat the word out through a throat scraped dry.

  The massive green platform shuddered.

  Stone ground against stone with a heavy, reluctant clatter—then softened, almost gently. Like a ship gradually slipping into water and finally enjoying the lift.

  It began to rise.

  The battle did not slow for it.

  Elios pushed himself upright. His body answered with a chorus of cracks and grinding protests, like an old door forced open after years of neglect.

  There was nothing in his knees.

  No spring. No strength. Just hollow weight.

  Burned out.

  Of course.

  Run. Fight. Get injured. Reapeat. No break.

  What he had done in this single night would have counted as brutal training if stretched across half a week. His vitality should have been drained long ago.

  Whatever borrowed force had sustained him until now—he did not know its source. But the moment he knelt and allowed himself a sliver of release, it abandoned him for good.

  And yet—

  Neru.

  Elios glanced over.

  She was still moving—weaving through the Wardens like a feather caught in a storm of violence.

  Better than he had expected, in truth.

  The dagger spun and snapped in arcs of flashing steel, weaving through the air like a shuttle on a loom—east, west, forward, back. One instant it scored a red line across the brute’s cheek; the next, it already drove into the swordsman’s thigh.

  Full offense.

  She was relentless.

  The Warden whose face Elios had shattered held the tightest guard of all, protecting the limited vision that remained of his left eye—but that caution kept him from closing the distance.

  Neru wasn’t dividing her focus evenly, Elios realized.

  That was the key.

  Most of her killing intent poured toward the young noble. The two older Wardens received only the recoil—what looked like retrieval motions as she drew the rope back. But under her control, the blade did more than a spear.

  It curved. It dove. It sliced. It hooked. Like phantom knives coming from unimaginable angles.

  Still, Elios saw the flaw.

  The weapon was too complex.

  Too demanding. No margin for error. Every move required precision. Every strike bled stamina.

  Sooner or later, something…will snap. Elios ground his teeth, trying to gather his strength once more.

  One against three is definitely a lethal match.

  He took one deep breath, letting it sweep over his lungs.

  Then another.

  Another.

  Each sizzled like a drop of water on a hot pan. The air itself felt unstable—he felt it.

  The platform is accelerating. Stone pillars and outer walls blurred past at a dizzying speed. Elios’s eyes flicked down to the void beyond the platform’s edge. One misstep—

  Death.

  Or at best, body smashed and torn against rushing stone, just two strides behind him.

  No good. He steadied his footing and observed. Neru might be even less prepared for this speed.

  But what he saw startled him.

  For a single instant, Neru pushed them all back. She became overwhelming.

  It wasn’t that she suddenly moved faster.

  No.

  The three Wardens seemed to falter for just a moment. A hitch in their footing. Hindrance held their attacks.

  Elios saw it and understood immediately.

  The armor.

  The rising platform was no longer a neutral field. The abnormal pull pressed down harder on steel than on cloth.

  Wasting no time, he roared.

  “Now!”

  Neru did not need an explanation. From her eyes alone, it was clear she had already caught it.

  The flying blade snapped back into her palm. The rope coiled tight around her other arm in one clean motion. She abandoned the two older Wardens and surged toward the young swordsman like a striking snake.

  Her dagger arm rose high and drove straight down, forcing him to lift his sword to intercept.

  This time, he had learned. He did not raise his arm too high or too abruptly. He merely angled the blade upward just enough, the point poised to pierce her face the moment she stepped too close.

  It was still not enough, though.

  Neru extended her free hand and gently pushed the blade aside—just a hair’s breadth from her ear.

  Elios had seen her do the same to Orin’s blade before, so he wasn’t startled.

  The young noble had not.

  Panic flared in his eyes as the dagger descended toward his temple. Instinct forced him to raise his off-hand to block.

  That was all she needed.

  Neru stepped inside.

  Elbows and hands rotated in tight arcs, her body slipping under his raised arms. The rope slid like a living thing—looping across his neck, shoulder, and sword arm in a single fluid path.

  At the same time, her left foot hooked behind his right. Heel rooted to stone, denying any retreat.

  Then she pulled.

  Leverage. Position. Timing.

  The swordsman crashed onto his back, the rope cinched tight.

  Through it all, the cold dagger never left his throat.

  Still the Serpent Sequences. Elios marveled inwardly.

  Yet only when paired with that cord did its true lethality reveal itself. Perhaps the cord is what gives the ‘Serpent’ its name.

  It felt endless in the telling, yet in truth it had passed in a heartbeat. The two remaining Wardens had not even fully recovered when their young master was already pinned to the stone.

  “Young lord—!” they shouted in unison, lunging forward.

  “Stay where you are.”

  Neru dragged the young swordsman up and pulled him in front of her as a shield. Her right hand kept the dagger tight against his throat; her left held the rope’s end, tying the right half of his upper body tightly.

  His fallen sword was kicked away with the back of her heel. It skidded across the platform and vanished over the edge, swallowed beneath the grinding laughter of stone.

  The Wardens froze.

  After a breath, the young noble hissed through clenched teeth, fury choking his voice.

  “Talgan! Borodai! Are you going to endure this humiliation? Charge her. Crush her. She won’t dare kill me.”

  The larger Warden advanced slowly, both hands raised, palms open in a show of restraint.

  “Easy,” he said. “Do you want to negotiate?”

  Neru’s eyes were cold as the knife licked a drop of blood from the young nobleman’s neck. “The steel is sharp. Accidents happen.”

  The towering Warden halted, standing still like a statue. His hands were still raised in that harmless posture. No panic. No rush.

  Then, slowly, he slipped one hand inside his breast pocket and withdrew a small green stone.

  “Take a look at this,” he said calmly. “Shall we negotiate now?”

  Khaizi stone!

  The very one Neru had given Rajido earlier.

  So they never stopped suspecting the connection.

  Elios felt a flicker of reluctant respect. Even now, they were disciplined enough to play for leverage instead of rage.

  “Gemstone?” Elios said lightly, as though unimpressed.

  The Warden’s eyes narrowed at him, then shifted back to Neru.

  “Look closer,” he stepped forward. “It might be the keepsake of someone important.”

  “I said stay there, are you deaf?” Neru growled. Her left hand jerked the rope tight. The young noble cried out as pain shot through his arm.

  “Three more steps and his elbow snaps,” she said evenly. “Personally, I’m curious what step one and step two would look like.”

  Her voice carried ghostly across the stone platform like death’s announcement.

  The massive Warden spoke again.

  Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

  “Fine. I won’t move. See for yourself.”

  He tossed the Khaizi stone toward Neru in a flawless arc. She ignored it, eyes still fixed on her opponent. The stone had crossed half the distance when Neru leaned close to the young noble’s ear.

  “Catch it.”

  Her dagger pressed tighter.

  The command needed no repetition.

  The swordsman raised his free left hand and snatched the green stone cleanly out of the air.

  Nothing happened.

  No smoke, no poison, no hidden trap. Just a stone resting in his palm.

  Elios let out a silent breath. Neru had handled it with reason.

  Still, he did not relax. The third Warden had yet to speak.

  The calmest. The hardest to read. The one who had continued to fight after having half of his face smashed away.

  That one.

  He had remained completely silent after Neru’s shout. Staying crouched behind the giant.

  Behind?

  A blind spot!

  Elios’s pulse dropped. What had he been doing there?

  A thunderous boom shook the air.

  The crushing weight that had pressed the platform moments before suddenly vanished.

  The stone beneath their feet lurched—then hung.

  Elios felt his stomach drop as if the ground had been ripped from under him. His body drifted, unanchored, grasping at nothing.

  Weightless.

  Damn it.

  The emergency brake.

  The third Warden had initiated that sequence for the ascension pillar.

  While Elios and Neru floated, disoriented, the three armored Wardens did not suffer from the same effect. Their heavy plate kept them grounded against the stone, gravity weakened but not erased.

  The largest of them surged forward at once like a chariot unleashed.

  Neru, still adjusting to the sudden shift, had only a breath to react as he barreled toward her.

  Worse still, the young swordsman seized the instant of her disorientation to retaliate.

  The Khaizi stone in his hand snapped backwards and struck the pressure point at the web between Neru’s thumb and forefinger. The pain might not break her grip, but the numbness certainly did. The dagger dropped from her faltered hand.

  The essence of their positions had changed completely.

  With no footing, no anchor, Neru floated behind him like a weightless bundle of cloth. In that position, it would have taken him no more than a flicker of thought to seize her arm, pivot across his shoulder, and hurl her forward—just as Rajido once had—casting her straight into the oncoming charge of the armored brute.

  Crushed from both sides.

  Neru decided instantly.

  She abandoned the hostage without hesitation. Her right hand released entirely. At the same time, she drove her heel hard into the swordsman’s back, kicking off and shoving him forward into the path of his own ally instead.

  The rope had lost its initial tension—but the bindings around his joints still held.

  Her final jerk came with the kick.

  Bones gave way.

  His arm snapped with a sharp, ugly crack as he was propelled ahead.

  Elios had no time to fully assess what had unfolded on Neru’s side, because at the moment, the third Warden was already upon him.

  He came in fast and furious—like a devil came to collect the sinner’s soul.

  Elios’s body felt hollow. There was no strength left to trade blows. He curled instinctively, chin tucked, elbows tight against his ribs, fists raised beside his cheekbones, bracing to absorb the strike he assumed was coming.

  But it never came.

  Instead of smashing into him head-on as a payback for his face, the Warden slipped past with unnerving agility, pivoting behind him in a skilful motion. An arm snaked around Elios’s neck, forearm locking beneath the chin, the other hand sealing the hold tight.

  A choke.

  But not meant to kill. No strangulation.

  He wasn’t even using force. If he had been, Elios—drained as he was—would have had no answer.

  No, this was a threat.

  The Warden’s arms looped around his neck in place like a beast’s jaws, ready to crush down.

  CRRRTCH!

  The violent jolt of the emergency halt finally faded.

  Elios’s body felt the weight again, but the chokehold made it a burden.

  The tide of the entire battle had been flipped in an instant, just like that.

  What a dangerous move.

  A dangerous man.

  The Warden behind him tightened his hold and spoke, voice hoarse and hollow.

  “Surrender. Or I snap his neck.”

  The sound rasped through his ruined mouth—half his face still collapsed from Elios’s blow.

  Across the platform, Neru had landed near the edge. She did not answer immediately. Instead, her gaze swept the surroundings. Only when her eyes catched the still-glowing sigil etched into the stone did she speak.

  “Not a chance.”

  The young noble, who was clutching his broken elbow, jerked his head in rage. His face was pale and twisted, eyes wild with pain and hatred.

  “Talgan,” he spat, “break his arm. Let’s see if the whore still talks like that.”

  Elios let out a thin, bitter laugh.

  “Go ahead,” he said. “But she means it.”

  Neru remained where she stood, saying nothing. Quietly, she gathered the rope and dagger back into her hands. It seemed she had already begun calculating how to fight alone the next round.

  Talgan’s grip did not loosen.

  “You truly don’t care?” he said. “This man is all spent. I could break every bone in his body, and he wouldn’t have the strength to resist.”

  Neru finally looked back.

  “I’ll avenge you,” she said simply.

  Elios understood the words were for him.

  And he believed her. A Frothena did not make empty promise.

  He still had enough left in him for one or two final strikes, but in this situation, they would mean little.

  Is this really where I yield?

  Talgan spoke again.

  “Borodai. Reset the platform to Level Five. The young lord requires treatment.”

  The large Warden nodded and obeyed at once. It was clear that although the noble swordsman held the highest status, the one truly in charge was the half-faced man.

  The ascension pillar rumbled back into motion. When the vibration steadied, Talgan turned his head toward Neru.

  “As for you… Perhaps we can make a deal.”

  Neru paused, eyes passing over all three of them.

  “Speak,” she said. “Three sentences. After that, we fight.”

  Talgan spoke slowly.

  “Two inches. I will release this man—on the condition that you stab yourself two inches deep. Anywhere.”

  The proposal was so strange that even Elios, with death coiled at his throat, was momentarily stunned.

  Is my life worth only two inches?

  “Why two?” Neru asked, frowning.

  “If I demand more, you will refuse outright,” Talgan replied evenly. “Then me capturing him would have been pointless. Killing him would be a waste, though.”

  Seeing she did not interrupt, he continued.

  “You are an elite, no doubt. Even with a stab wound, you could still fight like a demon. We gain a slight advantage. It is acceptable to both sides.”

  So that was it.

  Talgan’s assessment of Neru is exceptionally high. With some admiration in his heart, Elios sighed. But they don’t know her as I do. Her heart is pure stone. That won’t make her waver.

  And yet—

  To his shock, Neru was actually considering it.

  “How do I know you’ll release him?” she asked.

  The wind howled through the cold shaft, loosening strands of her dark hair across her face.

  Talgan shook his head.

  “You don't. We do this purely on trust. But beware. The moment you refuse, I’ll snap his neck. That is the final offer.”

  Silence.

  Helplessness surged up from some buried depth inside Elios.

  Not again.

  Was he truly going to stand and watch another person fall because he lacked the strength to intervene?

  Neru’s eyes flicked to Elios, then back to Talgan.

  “You said anywhere?” she asked.

  No.

  His legs trembled as he forced them straight. His heart pounded like a drum, but he willed it to steady.

  Calm. Think of something.

  Talgan nodded firmly.

  “Anywhere. You stab. Withdraw the blade with two inches of blood upon it, and I will throw him aside. I swear on a Warden’s honor.”

  The stone pillars outside blurred faster and faster as the platform descended, as if urging an answer.

  Neru gave a decisive nod.

  “Fine. Then—”

  “Wait!”

  Elios’s voice broke the moment.

  “You two bargain with my life. Ever think of asking me first?”

  Neru frowned at him, unreadable.

  Talgan remained calm, although his voice showed a thread of curiosity.

  “And what standing do you have to object?”

  “My standing?” Elios laughed faintly and tilted his head, trying to look back at Talgan. “Isn’t it directly in front of you?”

  Then he snapped his head backwards. Straight into Talgan’s blind side—where his right eye no longer existed.

  There was no clean crack of bone, only the wet, crushing sound like something flattened in a mortar. Given the state of Talgan’s face, it was difficult to imagine the pain.

  The strike cost Elios half the strength he had gathered. With the remaining half, he drove his heel down hard and, seizing the instant of Talgan’s shock, launched himself backwards—like the final surge in a desperate tug-of-war.

  Yes.

  Right in front of you is me.

  And right behind you—stone awaits.

  Elios had not moved all this time. The angle was still there. The alignment was perfect. He did not need to look to know how it would end.

  The impact came as a heavy, muffled thud—followed by a tearing rasp, like fishscales being pried from flesh. Metal burst apart. The smell of fresh blood spread thick and sharp in the air.

  The collision hurled them both away in opposite directions, the recoil violent enough to roll them across the platform.

  But this time, only Elios rose.

  Talgan had taken the worst of it—the passing stone had hit him like a wood saw.

  “Talgan!”

  “Brother!”

  The two remaining Wardens shouted at once and rushed to where he had fallen. This time, his life truly seemed in danger.

  Neru was already at Elios’s side, slipping under his arm and taking his weight across her shoulder.

  He had barely steadied himself when he leaned close and whispered in her ear,

  “Until now, they still haven’t seen our faces. Compromise is the better choice.”

  Then he raised his voice to the two Wardens.

  “Still alive. You can save him if you move quickly. Keep fighting us, and you’ll lose that only chance.”

  They looked at him with naked hatred. But with Neru standing beside him, dagger poised and killing intent steaming, some of that fury drained away.

  At last, they exchanged a glance and nodded.

  The platform reached Level Five.

  The two Wardens hoisted Talgan between them and carried him out of the ascension pillar.

  After a brief pause to consider, Elios added,

  “That green gemstone—if I’m not mistaken, it’s a hereditary relic of the healers. If you return it to the true owner, it might buy you a life.”

  The young swordsman stiffened, hurriedly reaching into his breast pocket. After a few breaths, seeming to have found what he had searched for, he exhaled in relief before continuing on.

  When they were gone, Elios turned to Neru and murmured,

  “It seems Rajido is fine.”

  She considered it for a moment, then nodded in understanding.

  He then sank heavily to the floor, finally letting his body react to the agony. Blood rose to his mouth, and his limb gave out as he had been holding back for far too long.

  Neru steadied him, one hand rubbing along his back while the other began tracing the control sigil to lift the platform to Level Nine, following his quiet instructions.

  “Level Eight isn’t optimal anymore, now that the Wardens have been aware of our destination.”

  After a moment, Elios turned his head toward her.

  “Just then… were you really going to stab yourself?”

  Neru avoided his gaze. A faint irritation crossed her face.

  “Who knew?” she shrugged, then changed the subject. “We need to speed up the plan. It’s been interfered with too many times.”

  Elios managed a strained smile.

  “Don’t know if I can make it. My body’s wrecked. I can’t even walk on my own.”

  “That’s on you,” Neru said evenly. “Your inner force was mostly spent, yet you still attempted an inner surge. You’re lucky you didn’t die right there.”

  She placed both hands on his shoulders and pressed along the main acupoints running down his spine. Wherever her fingers moved, his muscles loosened in their wake.

  “Instinct acted,” he said quietly. “I had no clue.”

  “Try to suppress it next time,” she shook her head, then corrected herself, “or maybe learn to do it properly.”

  Elios glanced at her. After everything, she still stood unshaken. Only a shallow gash on her forearm bore witness to the fight.

  Neru followed his gaze and seemed to understand at once what was turning in his mind. She spoke before he could.

  “Don’t waste yourself on pointless comparisons. All martial paths come from the same root and branch into hundreds of forms. Each has its strengths. Each claims advantage in certain conditions.”

  She tightened the binding on her forearm as she continued.

  “You’ll never beat me in an endurance battle—but that doesn’t mean you can’t beat me.”

  Elios pondered for a moment, then carefully asked.

  “And...you're not worry about that chance?"

  Neru snorted. "Only weaklings are scared of challenges."

  "Good," he looked at her, and his gaze darkened. "Because that fight may truly come if the war breaks out—and on that day, I won’t hold anything back."

  He hoped it would never come to that, but he felt compelled to warn her all the same. It would be a fight to the death.

  Unexpectedly, Neru answered with a solemn nod. “May you bring forth the best within yourself.”

  What?

  He had imagined she’d say something full of confidence: “You’d be stupid if you did.”

  Or something unconcerned: “I’ll wait.” Or even simply laughing it off.

  Not this.

  A genuine blessing?

  He stood there, still trying to unravel her uncharacteristic words, when the ascension pillar shuddered—ancient gears grinding, heralding their arrival.

  Level Nine.

  MY NEW CHAPTER WILL COME ON MARCH 6TH. SHOUTOUT BELOW ????

  ? Phoenix Flight [Lite LitRPG - Dungeon Diving - Slow Romance] ?

  by RainyLiquid

  Weak to Strong, gathering of powers, skills, and spells.