"I call for... Combat Balaidos!" Borrik shouted, standing tall, his chest rising and falling from exhaustion and rage.
Birrok turned sharply, his face still smeared with sand and blood. "Will they even understand, Borrik? They don't speak our language."
On the other side of the battlefield, Mendrova was still kneeling beside Reguya's body. His face was stiff, jaw clenched. Reguya had fallen—and to him, there was nothing more painful than losing a true knight, a comrade with whom he had shared countless missions.
A few elite soldiers carefully lifted Reguya's body. They prepared to carry it back to Smokeland, to the Valley of the Knights — the sacred burial grounds of the Doliex warriors.
"This war isn't over yet, Mendrova," Robb said quietly but firmly, standing nearby. "We still don't know how many more lives will fall."
Mendrova sighed, then slowly rose to his feet.
"This war is won, Robb. But before darkness falls... we must pay our respects. The earth must receive the bodies of our brothers before their souls are dragged into the night and forgotten by the day."
He turned to the two other commanding officers.
"Take our fallen back to Smokeland. Tell the elders to prepare the rites."
"At once, Commander," Vardrake and Kaelthorn replied in unison.
Two battalions, led by Vardrake and Kaelthorn, marched in formation, carrying the fallen knights. The Dark Legion held a different tradition—quick victories meant immediate burials.
"If the battle is won within a day, we must bury them that very day," Aoki Velary said to Robb, who followed the solemn procession with a questioning look.
"And if it lasts longer than a day?"
"Five days for the final rites. Beyond that… the dead can no longer be buried. Their bodies are left for the crows." Aoki lowered her gaze. "To us, that's disgraceful."
Robb frowned, unable to hold back. "Disgraceful? War is about honor. Why let a burial deadline define it?"
"Because war is a part of our soul. A piece of our life itself... and a life threatened for more than five days means the soul is already half lost. And we cannot afford to lose our soul. That's why we became the best," Mendrova added, already mounting his horse and heading back toward the battlefield where the Balevad troops had been cornered.
Mendrova, having finished paying his respects to the fallen of the Dark Legion, once again stood at the front line. The remaining Balevad forces were surrounded, yet refused to surrender. One of the Dark Legion officers pointed toward the center of the field.
"Commander, I think one of them... is shouting something."
Mendrova squinted. "Does anyone understand what they're saying?"
"No, Commander."
Robb appeared from behind. "It might be... Combat Balaidos. Rogg once mentioned it. They like to end wars with duels."
Mendrova nodded. "If that's their form of honor... we shall honor it. Prepare the arena!"
The Dark Legion troops immediately stepped back, forming a wide circle.
"My lord, they seem to understand. They're giving us space to fight," said one of the Balevad soldiers.
Borrik and Birrok exchanged glances. "Who goes first?"
"I will," Borrik said.
"No. We fight together."
Grobbok eyed the two seriously. "Will they understand a two-on-two duel?"
"We don't care. Look at that man in the black cloak… standing alone. He's probably their leader," said Borrik, stepping forward.
The two raised two fingers—a universal gesture of dual challenge.
From the edge of the arena, Robb called out, "Need some help?"
Mendrova turned. "Not really. But if you think this war has been too easy for you… feel free to join in for something a bit more challenging."
Robb gave a small smirk and stepped forward to stand beside Mendrova.
"It's strange… standing beside people like you always feels so silent and solemn. Not like most fights."
Mendrova narrowed his eyes. "People like us? You mean Vuuxi?"
"Yeah. They say you two are the best Doliex knights. But always so intense."
"Battle isn't a game."
Mendrova took a step forward. Robb followed, slowly.
When the two stood in the center of the circle, Borrik and Birrok were already prepared—axe and greatsword in hand. Four pairs of eyes met—calm, yet hiding a storm.
Without warning, they all charged at once.
Borrik swung his axe at Mendrova, while Birrok slashed at Robb in a sweeping arc.
Mendrova blocked and spun, trying to slip in a counterattack. Robb leapt back to avoid the strike, then dashed in again with a twin slash from his sword, Illeum Heraxes.
The clash was swift and fierce. Blades struck with deafening clangs. Sand flew. Breaths collided.
Borrik and Birrok were undoubtedly strong. But this wasn't their battlefield. Their coordination was tight, but Robb and Mendrova moved like water—crashing, wrapping, then breaking down.
"Don't let them split us up!" Birrok shouted.
Mendrova answered with a sharp slash across Borrik's shoulder.
"Robb!" he shouted.
Robb moved fast, ramming his sword's hilt into Birrok's jaw, then crossing both blades to block a retaliatory strike.
The surrounding soldiers held their breath. No cheers. Just eyes watching. This wasn't war anymore. This was the finale. The decision.
The fight continued—and anyone could lose.
Borrik swung his heavy axe at Mendrova with all his might. The air split open. Mendrova leapt back—barely a breath away from being cleaved in two. Without wasting time, he spun low and swept at Borrik's legs—missed. Borrik jumped back and attacked again, this time even faster.
Meanwhile, Robb was forced to fend off a relentless barrage from Birrok, who wielded twin blades with a rough yet effective technique. Diagonal slashes, piercing thrusts, then a brutal knee strike—all in one punishing wave.
Robb staggered back. "Huh! Strong one..." he muttered, breath heavy.
Mendrova spared a glance at Robb, then refocused on Borrik. Now, his opponent was attacking wildly, no longer with any form. This wasn't technique. It was rage.
"Robb!" he shouted. "Split them up!"
Robb gave a quick nod, then dodged and leapt to the far side of the arena, luring Birrok away. Birrok took the bait. The gap between the two brothers began to grow.
Mendrova saw the opening. He surged forward, slashing toward Borrik's gut—but was stopped by a powerful block. The clash rang loud, leaving ears ringing. Borrik countered with an overhead strike.
CRACKKK!
Borrik's axe slammed into Mendrova's sword, driving him to one knee. But in that instant, Mendrova drew a dagger—and stabbed Borrik in the side.
"ARGHH!!"
Blood burst forth. Borrik stumbled back. Mendrova stood, slightly swaying, but his eyes still burning.
On the other side, Robb was struggling. One of Birrok's slashes caught his arm. Robb groaned, blood trickling from the wound. Yet he stayed standing.
"That all you've got? Not enough to bring me down!"
With both blades of Illeum Heraxes, Robb deflected Birrok's strike and drove a hard kick into his gut. Birrok was sent flying, rolling twice across the sand before he staggered back to his feet, breath ragged.
"Come on—keep going!" Robb shouted.
Birrok charged, fury pouring from every step. Robb waited until the final moment—then sidestepped. Whoosh! Birrok's slash cut through empty air. In a single smooth motion, Robb spun and slashed behind Birrok's knee.
THUD!
Birrok dropped to one knee—vulnerable. Robb placed the tip of his sword against the back of Birrok's neck.
And drove it through.
Birrok collapsed instantly, blood spurting across the sand.
Not far away, Mendrova had also brought Borrik to his knees. Blood dripped from the corner of Borrik's mouth, his axe already fallen from his grasp. With a single clean sweep, Mendrova severed his neck.
Both brothers now lay dead—bodies broken and lifeless.
The Balevad soldiers stood silent. No cheers came from the Whiteheaven troops either. They simply stared.
That battle… was over.
Robb and Mendrova stood in the middle of the field, chests heaving. They weren't gravely wounded, but the fight had clearly taken its toll. Two against two—and they had prevailed.
"Take their heads," Mendrova said quietly.
The Dark Legion soldiers began approaching, ready to eliminate the remaining Balevad fighters.
"No!" Mendrova ordered. "Let the people of Vorthend finish it."
He turned to Aoki. "Command the warriors of Vorthend to strike them down. You—just oversee. As for the rest of us… prepare the troops. We march for Ulmara."
Robb turned to the field, his voice a whisper. "But the battle's not completely over."
Mendrova glanced at him and gave a crooked smile. "Letting the people of Vorthend finish it… that's part of their duty. They must defend their own land."
Robb exhaled deeply. "You know… you're actually kind of interesting."