The Master Returns

Part 1: The Explosion

The moment the two blades met—Dragon Fang – Flame of the Heavens against Imperial Fang – Thronebreaker—the world seemed to tear apart.

A deafening boom split the air, followed by a tidal wave of heat and light. Fire spiraled across the hall like a storm of dragons, while the sheer weight of Thronebreaker’s strike shattered the marble beneath their feet.

The banquet hall was no longer a place of music and laughter—it had become a battlefield of gods.

Chandeliers fell from the ceiling, shattering like glass stars. Pillars cracked and toppled, sending clouds of dust and debris into the air. The great golden drapes were set ablaze, fire crawling upward like living serpents.

The nobles screamed. Women clutched their dresses, knights rushed to shield their lords, and the smell of scorched stone and burning silk filled every breath.

Sir Cedric Valtor threw up his sword, embedding it into the ground, unleashing a barrier of pure will. His teeth clenched as the wave of force slammed into him. “Damn it all—hold the line!” he roared to the knights beside him, but half of them were already on the floor, bleeding from their ears.

Beside him, Lady Elara lifted both hands, runes igniting across her arms. A dome of shimmering light formed, shielding the king and the most important nobles. Sweat streamed down her forehead as she whispered, “This… this power… it’s beyond anything recorded.”

The king himself gripped his throne so tightly his knuckles turned white. His voice was low but trembling, “Is this truly the power of the First King? Or has hell itself returned to the earth?”

At the center of the storm, Noah was thrown back like a ragdoll. His sword screeched against the marble as he tried to stabilize himself, but the shockwave sent him tumbling across the ground. His body slammed into a pillar, blood spraying from his lips.

His vision blurred. His arms screamed in agony. His sword—his lifeline—was chipped, a long crack running down its once-proud blade.

He coughed, each breath raw. I… blocked it. Barely…

The clone of the First King stood in the center of the destruction, wreathed in the lingering aura of Thronebreaker. Its golden eyes burned with majesty, its very presence declaring dominion. Every step it took pressed into Noah like a mountain crushing an insect.

The nobles watched, horror etched across their faces.

One noble, voice breaking, cried, “This is madness! How could a boy hope to fight such a monster?!”

Another screamed, “End this trial! End it before we’re all destroyed!”

But the king remained silent, his eyes fixed, as though trying to measure not just the battle—but destiny itself.

Noah gripped his sword tighter, though his knuckles were cracked and bleeding. He forced himself onto one knee, his chest rising and falling in painful rhythm. His body trembled, but his eyes did not falter.

His mind whispered temptations of surrender. His body begged him to collapse. But his pride, sharp and unyielding, screamed louder.

“I won’t… bow down,” Noah muttered, voice hoarse but defiant.

He staggered to his feet, raising his broken blade once more. His vision doubled, the hall spinning, yet he stood.

The clone approached slowly, its blade gleaming. It did not rush. It did not need to. The inevitable was walking toward him in measured steps.

From the crowd, Cedric shouted, “Noah! Fall back! You’ve done enough!”

Elara added desperately, “You’ll die if you keep this up!”

But Noah’s answer was silence. His stance deepened, his cracked sword held ready.

Leo watched from the shadows of the ruined hall, his arms crossed. His eyes narrowed, watching every flicker of Noah’s stance.

He’s finished. His body won’t hold for another exchange… and yet he still refuses to bend. Heh… foolish. And yet…

A faint shimmer appeared before his eyes.

【 Mission Progress: 75% — The heir stands even as death approaches. 】

Leo exhaled slowly. His heart, so often cold and unmoved, stirred faintly. He remembered standing like that himself, blade shaking, body broken, but refusing to kneel before the Demon Lord.

This brat… he really might be worthy.

The clone stopped ten paces before Noah. Its voice, deep and resonant, filled the ruined hall.

“You carry the Fangs… yet your body is unrefined. Your will burns bright, but fire alone does not make a king.”

It raised its blade. The very air warped around the motion, cracks spreading across the marble.

“This strike will end you.”

The nobles panicked. Some tried to flee the hall entirely. Others clung to their knights, praying desperately.

Noah spat blood, but his lips curled into a faint, stubborn grin.

“Then come,” he whispered. “I’ll die standing.”

The clone moved. The world seemed to freeze.

Its blade, glowing with the weight of Thronebreaker, descended like the wrath of heaven. The pressure alone split the air, tearing apart the ground in its path.

Noah, vision blurry, raised his sword, knowing it would shatter. But his eyes burned with one last spark.

And then—

The strike never reached him.

A hand had stopped it.

Not a blade. Not a barrier. Just a hand.

The hall fell into silence, as if the world itself held its breath.

Standing between Noah and the clone was a tall figure cloaked in calm authority. His hair shimmered in the flicker of the flames, his eyes sharp as a predator’s. He had not rushed, nor leapt—he had simply stepped forward, and reality itself had bent to allow him passage.

The clone’s sword, radiating enough force to level a fortress, was gripped effortlessly in Leo’s bare hand. Sparks hissed against his skin, but he did not flinch.

The nobles stared in disbelief. Cedric’s mouth fell open. Elara’s spell faltered as she gasped.

The king himself rose from his throne, voice shaking. “Who… who is this man?”

Leo’s lips curled into the faintest of smirks.

“Is this all you’ve got left, old shadow?”

The clone’s eyes widened. For the first time, its cold expression cracked.

“You… You are—”

Before it could finish, a familiar chime echoed in Leo’s mind.

【 Mission Complete: The Master meets the Heir. 】