Rosalind’s Blue Rose Aura flared to life, surrounding her in a shimmering, icy-blue glow. Her rapier gleamed as she pointed it toward Kalavan, her eyes filled with unwavering determination. "This time, I’ll defeat you—no... we will defeat you." she declared, her voice steady and full of conviction.

Beside her, Mixarnt activated his Enigma Enhancement at 100%, black lightning crackling around his body as he gripped his unbreakable wooden sword, crafted from the World Tree. "Hear that, old guy? We’ll beat you and get that reward," he said, his tone serious for once, his usual grin replaced by a focused intensity.

Kalavan, despite the wounds covering his body, let out a sigh, his expression a mix of annoyance and reluctant admiration. "Sigh, you brats clearly want to die. My berserk duration might have been over, but I’m no easy foe," he said, gripping his bastard sword tightly. With a roar, he charged at the two, his movements still swift and powerful despite his injuries.

Mixarnt and Rosalind met him head-on, their attacks synchronized as if they had been fighting together for years. Mixarnt’s wooden sword clashed against Kalavan’s blade, the impact sending sparks flying. Rosalind darted in from the side, her rapier striking with precision, forcing Kalavan to block or dodge her attacks. The two worked seamlessly, covering each other’s weaknesses and exploiting every opening Kalavan left.

Kalavan’s bastard sword came down like a falling star, its edge screaming through the air. Mixarnt barely raised his wooden sword in time—the impact sent shockwaves through his arms, his boots grinding against the cracked earth. The force alone would have shattered any normal weapon, but the World Tree’s wood held firm, black lightning crackling along its length as it resisted.

"Mana Pillar!"

A geyser of raw energy erupted beneath Kalavan’s feet, forcing the veteran warrior to leap back. But Rosalind was already moving. Her rapier flickered like winter lightning, its tip tracing a deadly arc toward Kalavan’s ribs. He twisted midair, parrying with a brutal swipe—but she’d anticipated it.

"Frostbind."

Her Blue Rose Aura flared, and the air around Kalavan’s sword crystallized, ice crawling up the steel. For half a second, his movement slowed.

That was all Mixarnt needed.

"Mana Wave—Barrage!"

A torrent of condensed mana erupted from his blade, not as a single blast, but as a storm of slicing projectiles. Kalavan’s eyes widened as he crossed his arms, bracing—but even he couldn’t fully deflect them all. Cuts bloomed across his chest and arms, blood flecking the dirt.

Yet he grinned.

"Not bad."

Then he moved.

One moment, he was ten paces away. The next, his elbow smashed into Mixarnt’s ribs, sending him skidding across the battlefield. Before Rosalind could react, Kalavan’s sword hilt cracked against her temple, staggering her.

But they’d fought him long enough to know—hesitation meant defeat.

Mixarnt rolled to his feet, spitting blood. "Tch. Still hits like a dragon."

Rosalind wiped her brow, her rapier steady. "His left side’s favoring the leg wound from earlier."

Kalavan scoffed, hefting his sword. "Analyzing me? Cute."

Mixarnt lunged, his wooden sword a blur. Kalavan met him strike for strike, each collision sending tremors through the ground. But this time, Mixarnt wasn’t just hacking wildly—he angled his blows, forcing Kalavan to adjust, to strain the injured leg Rosalind had noted.

"Mana Pillar!"

The earth exploded at Kalavan’s feet again, but the general anticipated it, pivoting off his good leg to evade—only for Rosalind’s rapier to lunge from his blind spot. Ice trailed its edge, aiming for the tendons behind his knee.

Kalavan twisted, but not fast enough. The blade grazed him, and frost spiderwebbed up his calf.

"Got you," Rosalind breathed.

Kalavan’s grin turned feral. "Wrong."

His free hand shot out, snatching her wrist. With a roar, he hurled her into Mixarnt, sending both tumbling.

Dust swirled as the two young warriors picked themselves up, breathing hard. Kalavan stood across from them, his sword planted in the earth, his own chest heaving. The ice on his leg was already cracking—his monstrous stamina burning through Rosalind’s skill. But for the first time, fatigue lined his face.

Mixarnt grins, wiping the blood in his mouth. "Old man’s finally sweating."

Rosalind adjusted her grip. "His left leg’s shaking. That last exchange cost him."

Kalavan exhaled sharply, then laughed. "You two... really are pests." He yanked his sword free. "But I’ve had enough playing around."

The air around him warped as his remaining mana ignited—a final, terrifying surge.

Mixarnt and Rosalind tensed. This next clash would decide it all.

Kalavan struck first—a horizontal slash meant to bisect them both. Mixarnt didn’t dodge. He met it head-on, his wooden sword slamming against Kalavan’s blade with a shockwave that cracked the earth beneath them. The impact sent pain screaming up his arms, but he held firm, teeth bared in a grin.

Rosalind was already in motion. As Kalavan’s sword locked with Mixarnt’s, she darted low, her rapier lancing toward Kalavan’s exposed side. The general twisted, but Mixarnt shoved forward, keeping him pinned just long enough—

"Frostfang Thrust!"

Ice erupted from her blade, scoring a deep gash across Kalavan’s ribs. He snarled, kicking out, but Mixarnt was already yanking Rosalind back by her cloak, swapping places as Kalavan’s retaliatory swing cleaved empty air.

"Mana Pillar—Barrage!"

Three pillars of raw energy erupted in sequence, forcing Kalavan into a desperate backstep. Rosalind didn’t let up—her rapier flickered like a blizzard’s kiss, each strike aimed at his weakened leg, his bleeding side, the arm straining to keep his sword aloft.

Kalavan blocked, parried, countered—but for every move he made, one of them was already there to intercept.

When he swung at Rosalind, Mixarnt crashed into his guard with a mana-charged shoulder tackle.

When he pivoted to crush Mixarnt, Rosalind’s rapier darted in, forcing him to abort the strike.

They fought like two halves of a single mind, their rhythm flawless, their trust absolute.

Kalavan’s eyes widened slightly as he realized just how well the two complemented each other. Whenever he aimed a strike at Rosalind, Mixarnt was there to block or counter, his wooden sword deflecting his blows with surprising strength. And when Kalavan turned his attention to Mixarnt, Rosalind was already lunging at his exposed side, her rapier a blur of blue aura.

"These brats... they’re not bad," Kalavan muttered under his breath, a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. He had faced countless opponents in his lifetime, but the coordination and determination of these two were something else. They weren’t just fighting for themselves—they were fighting for each other, and that made them dangerous.

Mixarnt’s eyes were locked onto Kalavan, his focus so intense that he barely blinked. His lips were slightly parted as he breathed heavily, his movements sharp and calculated. "Mana Wave!" he shouted, unleashing a powerful blast of mana that forced Kalavan to leap back, his boots skidding across the ground.

Rosalind didn’t miss a beat. "Rose Charge!" she called out, her rapier glowing a deep crimson and azure as she lunged forward, her attack aimed straight at Kalavan’s chest. The General barely managed to block it, the force of her strike pushing him back even further.

Kalavan gritted his teeth, his respect for the two growing with each passing moment. "You two are something else," he admitted, his voice gruff but tinged with admiration. "But don’t think this is over yet!"

He swung his bastard sword in a wide arc, forcing Mixarnt and Rosalind to leap back to avoid the strike. But even as they retreated, they stayed close, their movements fluid and coordinated. Mixarnt darted in low, aiming for Kalavan’s legs, while Rosalind went high, her rapier aimed at his shoulder. Kalavan blocked Mixarnt’s strike but had to twist his body to avoid Rosalind’s attack, leaving him momentarily off-balance.

Mixarnt seized the opportunity. "Now!" he shouted, and Rosalind nodded, her Blue Rose Aura flaring brighter as she channeled her energy into her rapier. The two attacked simultaneously, their combined force pushing Kalavan to his limits.

Kalavan grunted as he blocked their attacks, his arms trembling under the pressure. "You brats... you’re really giving me a run for my money!" he said, his voice strained but still carrying a hint of amusement. Despite his wounds and fatigue, he was clearly enjoying the challenge.

Mixarnt and Rosalind’s teamwork was flawless, their trust in each other evident in every move they made. And Kalavan, though outnumbered and injured, fought with the skill and ferocity of a seasoned warrior.

This was a clash of wills, a test of strength, strategy, and determination. And no matter the outcome, one thing was certain: Mixarnt and Rosalind had proven themselves to be a force to be reckoned with.