The Moonlight Swordsman (XXXIV)

The crowd was still screaming.

The energy in the underground arena was wild, almost chaotic.

"Ahh... fuu..."

Aestrea stood there, his breath coming out in short, cold puffs, his body still tense from the battle.

His clothes were torn, and his shoulder was bleeding, but his hands were steady on the hilts of his swords.

Kagetaro had escaped.

That slippery bastard had slipped away right when Aestrea had landed the final blow.

The cut had been deep—it should've been fatal.

But no body meant no kill, and that meant he was still out there somewhere.

"Damn it..." Aestrea clicked his tongue, rolling his shoulder as he sheathed his swords.

The announcer's voice boomed across the arena, drowning out his thoughts.

"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN—THE FINAL WINNER OF THE DEATH TOURNAMENT… MOONLIGHT SWORDSMAN!"

The roar of the crowd was loud.

"WOOOOOOO!!!"

"BLOOD! BLOOD! BLOOD!"