Chapter 110: Selina The Red Rose

As Arthur focused his mana into the blade, he caught a glimpse of Selina's next move—both of her shadowy hands merging into one massive form, wielding an even larger scythe crackling with dark energy.

"Are you ready?" she asked, her voice steady and sharp.

"Yes," Arthur replied. He shifted into a striking stance, and the motion alone sent a wave of force through the air, rippling the clouds above.

In the very next breath, both of them launched forward, streaking through the sky toward the monstrous tentacle. A swarm of spectral insects surged up to intercept them, but before they could get close, hundreds of swords materialized around Arthur and fired like arrows, tearing through the swarm in a storm of light and steel.

With nothing left to stop them, Arthur and Selina reached the tentacle's core. In perfect sync, they swung.

Their blades sliced through the massive limb with explosive force, a shockwave bursting outward as a titanic gash split the tentacle cleanly down the middle. For a moment, time seemed to freeze.

From the far side, Arthur and Selina hovered, blades lowered, watching the aftermath.

The upper half of the tentacle began to fall in slow motion, severed cleanly from the base. The lower part twisted and writhed in agony, spraying dark ichor into the air as it thrashed violently. The sea below them quaked. Towering waves surged upward in every direction.

"Looks like our monster felt that," Selina said with a proud smile.

Below, the sound of shouting carried up from the two pirate ships. Sailors scrambled to keep their vessels afloat as the sea tossed them like leaves in a storm. Then—suddenly—the waves froze. The air went still. The ocean itself fell into complete silence.

"The calm before the—"

Before Selina could finish her sentence, ten more tentacles burst from the depths, slicing up through the sea like colossal spears.

They lashed out immediately, striking at Arthur and Selina in a frenzy. Meanwhile, the severed main tentacle began to drift slowly through the air, pulled toward its lower half.

"It's trying to reconnect," Arthur said grimly.

"I'm not going to let it."

Her voice had changed—layered, distorted, as though multiple Selinas were speaking in unison.

Her eyes flared bright red. She raised her enormous scythe and aimed it toward the severed limb. From the blade, ten long peduncles sprouted, covered in barbed thorns. They shot forward, growing thicker and longer as they stretched across the sky.

When they reached the falling upper half of the tentacle, they coiled around it with crushing force. The barbs pierced the monstrous flesh, digging in deep and bursting through the other side. In moments, the tentacle was wrapped entirely in a web of thorned vines.

Then, the peduncles reached out again—this time wrapping around the base of the original tentacle, binding it in place. The creature's movements slowed, trapped in Selina's tightening grasp. At the center of it all, on the upper tentacle, a single bud began to bloom.

Arthur, still flying and fending off the new tentacles with rapid strikes, kept one eye on her domain's power—fascinated.

The bud atop the tentacle unfurled slowly, its petals peeling back with an almost reverent grace. In the heart of the sky, surrounded by chaos, blood, and monstrous fury, a single massive rose bloomed—its color an impossible shade, glowing with an ethereal mix of shadow and crimson light. The petals shimmered like glass, and yet they pulsed with a strange, living energy.

Then more buds appeared—one by one along the barbed peduncles—and with each blooming flower, the severed tentacle shrank. Its mass withered, its once-heaving flesh collapsing inward as though the roses were draining its life from within. The transformation was slow and deliberate, as if Selina's power was savoring the death of her enemy.

Within ten minutes, ten radiant, nightmarish roses had bloomed along the peduncles, their thorned stems piercing the mutilated limb. What had once been a towering weapon of the sea god now hung lifeless and shriveled, a dried husk suspended in the air.

The peduncles shifted, surging downward, wrapping tighter around the lower half of the tentacle. They moved faster now, hungrier—reaching to feed again. The other tentacles tried to intercept, lashing through the air—but Arthur met them all, sword flashing with unrelenting precision. None could break through his defense.

Beneath the sea, the creature's main body twisted violently. The massive base of the severed tentacle thrashed beneath the surface, desperately trying to tear free of the thorny bind holding it in place. The ocean itself seemed to churn with fear.

Then—two eyes opened beneath the waves. They were vast, ancient, brimming with hatred and pain. Even from the sky, their presence was suffocating.

A scream erupted from below. It wasn't just sound—it was pressure, vibration, madness. A scream so deep and alien that the sky seemed to crack.

Selina's eyes ignited, glowing like dying stars. A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth—not of joy, but of righteous fury.

"I'll kill you right here and now," she whispered, her voice layered and resonant, as if echoed by a hundred of herself.

The largest rose at the center of the peduncles began to rise. Slowly, it ascended above the others, petals turning, rotating like gears in a massive weapon. Its core aligned with the monster's eyes far below. Mana surged through the vines, channeling from every bud, every thorn, into the central flower. Shadow and mana converged in its heart—coiling into a singularity of destructive energy.

And then it fired. A beam, thick as a castle tower, lanced down from the flower, splitting the clouds as it descended. It struck the sea with unrelenting force, and the explosion beneath the water was instant and cataclysmic. The surface erupted upward, a pillar of sea and fire reaching into the sky. Waves radiated outward, massive and wild—tossing the two pirate ships like toys. Their crews screamed in panic as water crashed over their decks, threatening to drag them under.

In the wake of that attack, the tentacles flailed—then began retreating. One by one, they slithered back beneath the waves, fleeing like wounded serpents.

"It's trying to run," Arthur muttered. But when he turned to Selina, he saw her suspended in the air, unmoving. Her scythe hovered beside her, but her body had gone limp—her energy spent.

"Damn it," he hissed.

He glanced at his sword—his ninety-first sword.

"Is it enough…?"

He had no time to hesitate. He soared upward, high above the sea, above the clouds, and raised his sword. Light flooded the sky, drawn toward the weapon, forming a blade so massive its tip pierced the heavens. The air burned around it. The clouds parted in awe.

Arthur held it aloft for a single breath—then brought it down with all his might. A line of pure, blinding light cut across the sea. The ocean split beneath it, divided as though by divine order. For a moment, it looked as if the entire sea had been cleaved in half.

But the monster kept sinking. Its enormous form vanished into the deep, dragging its wounds with it, disappearing into the abyss.

"It wasn't enough," Arthur whispered.

He looked at his empty hand. No more swords appeared and no more power surged to his call.

When the monster finally vanished beneath the surface, leaving only silence and turbulent waves behind. 

Arthur flew to Selina's side. "Are you okay?" he asked, his eyes scanning her pale face.

"I'm fine," she said, though her voice was strained. Sweat dripped from her brow, and her breathing was still shallow. "That thing… its rank is higher than A-Five. It's an S-rank."

Arthur's expression darkened. "Either way, it took a hard hit," he replied. "I doubt it'll show itself again anytime soon." But even as he said the words, he knew the truth wasn't so simple.

The creature was intelligent—calculated. It wouldn't return wounded and reckless. Next time, it would come back prepared, and with a strategy. The problem was, they had no way to chase it into the deep. The ocean's pressure would crush their bodies long before they reached it. Not even the two of them could withstand the depths for long.

They'd need an A-Three or higher-ranked Water Elementalist, or a Druid.

But that was a problem for another time. He reached into his coat and pulled out a sealed scroll, then tossed it to her. "Use this if you ever need me again. It'll reveal your location—I'll come."

Selina caught it without looking, slipping it into her bag with a nod. Arthur turned, and began to fly off. But her voice stopped him.

"That last attack… it wasn't your hundredth sword, was it?"

He paused in midair, just for a heartbeat. Then left without answering.

Selina watched him go, a smile creeping across her face. "Just as I thought," she whispered.

Her gaze dropped to the sea, then drifted up again, locking on Arthur's silhouette as it shrank against the horizon.

"If that wasn't your final sword… then the last one must be truly inescapable." Her eyes gleamed with a knowing spark. "You're a dangerous man, Arthur Avalon… or should I say—Arthur Caelum, the Champion of the Light." She smiled, quietly, to herself.

…

The girl sat in the middle of a vast, dark and drenched hall, alone on a throne-like chair soaked in dried blood. Her bare feet dangled just above the floor, toes stained red. A serene, almost childlike smile played on her lips as she closed her eyes—and in the blink of an eye, she was somewhere else. 

Now she sat in a massive stone seat, surrounded by others cloaked in shadow. 

"Welcome, my friends, to another conclave of our order. As is our custom, let us begin with the fulfillment of promises made at our last gathering."

A few exchanges took place in near silence, passed from hand to hand, then Mr. Immortal leaned forward, turning his gaze toward the figure in the hood of Mr. Clone. "Mr. Clone. We believed you'd chosen to stop attending these meetings."

A smirk appeared beneath Mr. Clone's hood. "I had business that couldn't be postponed."

Before Immortal could press further, she—Ms. Eye—spoke, her voice melodic but edged like a blade. "Mr. Immortal, did you crack the page? If so, name your price."

"I did," he said with a shrug, "but it's only a fragment. A part of a larger spell. Nothing useful… yet."

She sighed, disappointed. "A shame." She turned her gaze to Mr. Light. "Then what about the sea?"

Mr. Light hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "Captain Bernardo de Barbanario was slain by Selina the Red Rose. He'd been corrupted by the sea monster—Osara."

For a breath, the room fell still. Though their faces were hidden beneath hoods, the tension in their posture revealed their shock.

"Corrupted?" Mr. Crow echoed, leaning forward.

"Yes," Mr. Light continued. "Osara infects the minds of living beings. Twists their thoughts. We fought it together—my crew and the Red Rose Pirates."

"We'll pay for the full report," Mr. Crow said immediately, eyes sharp with interest.

Arthur, under the name Mr. Light, began to recount every vital detail of the battle.

"I didn't think anything could rival the beast from the Shadow Lands," Mr. King muttered, half to himself. Then he turned. "Ms. Shadow, is everything quiet there?"

"No further activity," she answered. "Nothing has stirred since the sealing. As for the cult behind it—we're calling them the Shadow Order now."

"Shadow Order," Mr. King repeated thoughtfully.

Talk continued, veering toward artifacts and current threats. Mr. Crow presented several rare items for trade—most veiled in curses.

When the meeting finally ended, the girl opened her eyes in the blood-drenched hall. Though it remained cloaked in near-total darkness, her glowing blue eyes missed nothing.

"Well? Any news, Lucy?" came a voice from behind her—smooth, masculine, laced with impatience.

"You'll have to be patient, brother," she replied without turning.

The man stepped into view, wearing a long black coat. His face remained hidden in shadow, though the glint of old magic shimmered faintly around him.

"It's been more than a year."

"I'm not as old or powerful as you," she said with a smirk. "If you wanted answers sooner, you should've gone yourself."

"If I do, that Mr. Sage will know what I am with a single glance," he replied coolly. "We want to uncover his identity, not alert him to ours. And don't forget—you're only ten years younger than me."

"Then be patient," she said, rising slowly.

She clapped her hands once. Lamps flickered to life, casting a sickly golden light across the chamber.

Around her, men and women stood frozen in elegant Rumba poses—dancers mid-motion, suspended in time. Blood pooled around their feet, staining the marble floor in dark smears showing that they had been dancing for a long time.

Luciana picked up a violin resting near her chair and gently placed it under her chin. The bow glided across the strings, coaxing out a haunting, lilting melody.

As the notes filled the hall, the dancers began to move again—slowly at first, then fluidly, as if waking from a shared nightmare. Their eyes remained empty, lifeless, but their bodies danced with perfect grace, blood leaving crimson trails as they spun.

Luciana danced among them, weaving through the slow, grisly ballet, her dress brushing against the corpses as if they were old friends.

Her brother stood watching in silence. "Crazy girl," he murmured under his breath, then turned and walked into the dark.