Drakhar raised his enormous sword.

"This next strike..."

"...will decide everything."

Luna nodded.

"I was thinking the same."

Silence fell over the arena.

Even the announcer stopped speaking.

Thousands watched.

Waiting.

Both fighters lowered their centers of gravity.

Then—

They charged.

The distance vanished instantly.

Steel met steel in a brilliant shower of sparks.

Their blades locked.

Power against precision.

Strength against technique.

For a heartbeat...

Neither moved.

Then Luna shifted her footing by a single step.

A movement so subtle most spectators missed it entirely.

Drakhar’s balance faltered.

Only slightly.

Enough.

She redirected the force of his sword instead of resisting it.

His blade slid harmlessly past her shoulder.

Before he could recover—

The flat of Luna’s sword stopped against his neck.

Perfectly placed.

Perfectly controlled.

Silence.

Drakhar looked at the blade.

Then burst into laughter.

"Hahaha!"

He raised both hands.

"I yield."

The referee immediately stepped forward.

"Winner!"

"BLACK RAVEN!"

The arena erupted louder than ever before.

"UNBELIEVABLE!"

"SHE WON AGAIN!"

"TWO VICTORIES!"

"WHO IS THIS WOMAN?!"

Drakhar picked up his sword and offered Luna a respectful bow.

"Your teacher..."

"...must be an extraordinary swordsman."

Luna returned the bow.

"He is."

As she walked back toward the tunnel, the chants followed her all the way to the exit.

"BLACK RAVEN!"

"BLACK RAVEN!"

"BLACK RAVEN!"

The mysterious outsider had done more than win another match.

She had earned the respect of both the crowd and a veteran champion.

Elsewhere in the city, hidden in the maze of ancient streets, Orpheus continued his own mission—still unaware that his student had become the rising star of the underground arena, and that every victory was drawing the attention of increasingly powerful figures watching from the shadows.

The victory over Drakhar changed everything.

By the following morning, the entire underground district buzzed with a single name.

Black Raven.

No one knew where she had come from.

No one knew her race.

No one knew her true appearance beneath the obsidian mask.

Rumors spread faster than wildfire.

Some claimed she was a princess hiding her identity.

Others insisted she was an assassin from a forgotten clan.

A few whispered she was the disciple of a Sword Saint who had disappeared centuries ago.

The more people speculated...

The more mysterious she became.

Meanwhile, Luna couldn’t have cared less.

She wasn’t chasing fame.

She wasn’t chasing wealth.

Every duel was simply another lesson.

Another opportunity to sharpen her sword.

Another step toward becoming stronger.

For herself...

And for the man who had patiently guided every swing of her blade.

Third Match

Her third opponent was a towering minotaur wielding a massive double-headed axe.

Unlike Gormak, the minotaur possessed remarkable discipline.

His footwork was refined.

Every swing was measured.

Every movement threatened to trap his opponent.

The arena shook beneath each strike.

The crowd roared every time the enormous axe shattered another section of the battlefield.

Luna never met strength with strength.

She danced around the devastating attacks, her black cloak fluttering like the wings of a raven.

The duel lasted nearly twenty minutes.

Finally...

The minotaur overcommitted to a downward strike.

His axe buried itself into the arena floor for the briefest moment.

That single heartbeat was enough.

Luna’s sword rested against his throat.

Victory.

The audience exploded.

Fourth Match

This time...

Speed met speed.

Her opponent was a panther beastman famous for dual daggers.

He vanished into shadows.

Appeared behind her.

Above her.

Beside her.

His attacks came from impossible angles.

Many spectators lost track of both fighters entirely.

Metal flashed.

Sparks burst through the darkness.

The battlefield became a blur.

Then...

One clean counter.

The beastman’s daggers flew from his hands.

Luna’s blade stopped inches from his chest.

He laughed.

"I’ve never been disarmed that cleanly."

He bowed respectfully.

"So this is the Black Raven..."

Fifth Match

A battle mage.

Unlike previous opponents, this elderly demon relied almost entirely on magic.

Walls of fire.

Spears of ice.

Lightning storms.

Stone spikes erupted across the battlefield.

The arena transformed into a deadly maze.

Luna adapted.

She used broken pillars as cover.

Closed the distance little by little.

Her footwork became almost artistic.

She reached him without suffering a direct hit.

The old mage smiled proudly.

"Excellent."

He surrendered willingly.

"Magic alone cannot stop a perfect swordsman."

Sixth Match

The sixth opponent frightened even veteran spectators.

A vampire berserker.

He wielded twin crimson sabers and regenerated every wound almost instantly.

The battle became brutal.

Steel carved flesh.

Blood stained the arena.

Every injury Luna inflicted disappeared moments later.

The audience wondered if victory was even possible.

Then...

She remembered Lilith’s lessons.

"Don’t attack what recovers."

"Attack what controls the recovery."

Instead of targeting his body...

She struck his wrists.

His elbows.

His shoulders.

One by one.

His swordsmanship collapsed.

Disarmed...

The vampire smiled through blood-covered lips.

"You’ve fought vampires before."

Luna simply nodded.

"I have."

Seventh Match

The seventh battle became an endurance contest.

An enormous stone golem stood nearly five meters tall.

Every punch shattered rock.

Every stomp created earthquakes across the battlefield.

Ordinary swords barely scratched its body.

Luna spent almost an hour studying its movements.

Patient.

Calm.

Observing.

Then...

She discovered the mana core hidden beneath layers of enchanted stone.

One precise thrust.

The crystal shattered.

The giant collapsed.

The arena erupted into thunderous applause.

Eighth Match

Now...

The challengers grew stronger.

A noble demon duelist stepped onto the battlefield carrying an elegant rapier.

Unlike previous opponents...

He smiled throughout the entire fight.

Their duel resembled a dance.

Elegant.

Graceful.

Every movement beautiful.

Every clash echoed like music.

Spectators watched in complete silence.

No brute strength.

Only technique.

Only precision.

When Luna finally landed the deciding strike...

The nobleman applauded.

"I haven’t enjoyed a duel this much in years."

He bowed deeply.

"I sincerely hope we meet again."

Ninth Match

The final preliminary opponent...

A martial artist.

No weapons.

Only fists.

The audience laughed.

"He’s insane."

"She’s carrying a sword."

"This won’t last."

They were wrong.

The martial artist’s body moved like flowing water.

He dodged blades with impossible precision.

His fists struck faster than arrows.

Luna was forced to abandon conventional swordsmanship.

She used the flat of her blade.

Her scabbard.

Her footwork.

Their battle became a breathtaking exchange of movement.

Sword against empty hands.

Neither gaining an advantage.

Until...

She predicted his final step.

A single sweep.

His balance disappeared.

The tip of her sword rested against his shoulder.

He smiled broadly.

"You’ve mastered observation."

He laughed while walking away.

"I hope the King doesn’t underestimate you."

Silence spread through the arena.

Nine victories.

Nine.

Not a single defeat.

The impossible had happened.

The mysterious outsider...

Had conquered every challenger placed before her.

That evening...

The arena manager personally entered Luna’s waiting chamber.

He was an elderly demon dressed in luxurious crimson robes embroidered with golden dragons.

Behind him stood six heavily armed guards.

He bowed respectfully.

"Lady Black Raven."

Luna looked up from quietly cleaning her sword.

"What is it?"

The old demon smiled.

"I believe..."

"...there is only one opponent left."

He carefully placed a black invitation upon the table.

Its seal depicted a golden crown surrounded by swords.

The entire waiting room fell silent.

Even seasoned veterans unconsciously swallowed.

Someone whispered...

"...No way..."

"...The King."

Another fighter slowly stood.

"They’re sending her against him?"

The old demon nodded.

"The arena has reached its conclusion."

His voice carried unusual respect.

"You have defeated nine warriors."

"You have earned the right..."

"...to challenge the undefeated champion."

He paused dramatically.

"The King of the Underground Arena."

"The Emperor of One Hundred Consecutive Victories."

"The man who has remained undefeated for over a decade."

"The one known throughout the demon realm simply as..."

He looked directly into Luna’s masked eyes.

"The Crimson King."

The atmosphere became suffocating.

Some fighters lowered their heads instinctively.

Others looked toward Luna with sympathy.

Several whispered prayers.

One veteran shook his head.

"It ends here."

"No one beats him."

"He’s a monster."

"He isn’t human..."

"...or demon."

Luna quietly picked up the invitation.

She studied the crimson seal for several moments before slipping it into her cloak.

Then...

She calmly stood.

There was no fear in her eyes.

No excitement.

Only quiet determination.

"I’ll be there."

The arena manager smiled faintly.

"I expected no other answer."

As he turned to leave, the whispers followed him through the chamber.

"The Crimson King..."

"Black Raven..."

"What a battle this will be..."

Far away, somewhere in another district of the city, Orpheus continued pursuing his own mysterious objective, still unaware that his student had reached the final stage of the tournament.

Tomorrow...

The entire underground city would witness the clash everyone had begun calling the Battle of the Century.

A rising legend.

Against an undefeated king.

Only one would leave the arena victorious.