OLD-WORLD EXTRA

Chapter 468: Respect Even In Death



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Southern Cross, presented what a Knight should be, standing tall and poised, his long sword glimmering with light behind his kite shield, the usual equipment chosen by Knights like himself.

Opposite him stood a man who mirrored him in all but appearance, his augmented suit in the design of a white cloak instead of its default state.

Their gazes locked, and unlike all the duels going on around them, respect, not disdain or anger, filled their eyes.

They were Knights and they treated each other as such.

No matter where they had come from, this single fact wouldn't change.

"Here I come, Abyad!"

"I'm waiting, Cross!"

The two Knights wasted no time-Southern Cross lunged forward, his Aetheric Blade slicing through the air.

His opponent was quick to parry, their blades meeting in a blinding flash of Aether.

The clash sent shockwaves through the ground beneath them, but neither Knight faltered. Southern Cross pressed forward, attacking with his shield.

Abyad was momentarily pushed back, barely managing to slow down Southern Cross's momentum with his own shield.

As their collective movement came to a complete halt, both stepped away and then went right back, attacking more freely.

Each strike and block sent echoes through the air and ground due to the sheer strength behind them.

Both had Aegis Of Radiance activated so their strength was enhanced, and as if that wasn't enough, they stacked it with Valor's Call, increasing it even further.

Their auras, brilliantly bright, clashed against each other, one white with a hint of blue while the other was pure white, simply unadulterated.

They filled the space with a crackling Aether that made the air hum.

But, all that eventually settled as Southern Cross's will-infused Aether devoured Abyad's.

Abyad was previously able to fight back longer, reach a stalemate, sacrificing much of his reserves, but now, as they dwindled, he couldn't fight quality with quantity.

That was when Southern Cross moved, his feet barely touching the ground as he lunged forward.

Abyad responded in kind, their swords clashing with a resounding clang!

Sparks flew as the two Knights exchanged blows, each strike and parry executed with near- perfect timing.

And though not noticeable at first, it quickly became apparent that Southern Cross was on a different level.

His opponent, though skilled, struggled to keep up with the relentless onslaught.

Southern Cross moved with the fluidity of water, his strikes seamless.

The difference in experience was on full display as Abyad was forced to retreat step by struggling step.

Despite him replenishing the augmented suit's energy not many seconds ago, its force shield began to show small cracks.

Though he blocked most lethal strikes with his kite shield, those that slipped through weren't anything to scoff at.

Abyad needed to retreat.

He swung wildly in an attempt to keep Southern Cross at bay, but it was no use.

Each of Southern Cross's strikes found its mark, a specific point on the shield, driving him back further and further until his back was nearly against the wall.

Then, with no hesitation, Southern Cross brought his long sword down in a sweeping strike aimed at Abyad's midsection.

His opponent raised their shield, but, like everything he did in the past few seconds, it was useless.

Southern Cross had planned for this since the beginning, and Abyad had just unknowingly presented him with a clear victory.

The blade paused as he switched his grip and pulled it back.

In the next moment, he stabbed it forward like a stake, targeting the same point always did.

And finally, it pierced through the shield, leaving a deep gash in Abyad's stomach as he pulled back in the last fraction, barely holding on to his life.

Gritting his teeth, he retaliated with a desperate charge, aiming to catch Southern Cross off guard and bash him into the ground.

But Southern Cross was prepared.

He sidestepped the bull-like charge, his blade flashing as he delivered a quick, controlled cut

to his Abyad's side.

He staggered, whatever was left of his defenses crumbling.

Then, the deciding moment had arrived.

"Honorable Duel."

Southern Cross had called upon his strongest ability.

This duel was truly honorable.

His usual wild personality wasn't on display; rather, he neared the Gentlemen incarnate in

how he acted.

That was reflected in the ability.

It was as if Evan, Junior, and all other Knights were frauds.

The difference in power shown was just that large.

A brilliant shield crest materialized above him, its radiance dwarfing the light of Aegis of

Radiance.

The symbol pulsed with Aether, syncing with Southern Cross's every heartbeat.

Abyad could only watch that beautiful scene with wide eyes.

He already knew their leagues differed, but not to such an extent.

And though he tried to muster a final defense, it was too late.

Southern Cross's blade, now charged with Aether to an extreme degree, descended in a

straight arc.

The Aether concentrated within exploded outward, and like Judal's Dimensional Cut ability, it pulverized the ground on its path to kill, sending multiple shockwaves through their

surroundings.

Abyad, unable to keep standing, was thrown to his knees by the sheer pressure of the attack before it even reached him.

He gasped, trying to move, but his limbs wouldn't respond.

His shield shattered, and his sword fell from his hand as his strength gave out completely.

Then, the strike hit.

A blinding flash followed as the blade of Aether connected with Abyad's chest.

It didn't just cut; it tore through him, splitting him in half with ease, flesh and bone.

His body twisted unnaturally into itself, skin ripping apart, leaving only his head intact.

Before the Reapers could take him, Abyad let out a broken, choking sound as what remained fell flat to the ground.

His eyes, wide with shock and pain, stared blankly into nothingness as life slipped away fromn/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

him.

Southern Cross turned around and didn't look back.

He simply wiped his sword clean and stepped away, not wanting to look at the grotesque

scene of his own making.

Knights held natural respect for one another, and that remained even in death.