THE NIGHTMARE WITHIN

The very air was suffocating, weighed down by the presence of two warriors who stood at the edge of destruction.

Modred. Arthur.

One, a living storm of crimson fury, his sword an extension of his relentless will. The other, a knight bathed in golden radiance, a warrior who had stood at the peak for years, unchallenged.

This wasn't a match. It was a collision of titans.

The crowd had gone silent. The air felt heavier.

Then—the signal rang.

And the world shattered.

---

Arthur moved first.

In an instant, he was gone—a streak of golden light rushing toward Modred, his sword gleaming like a divine executioner's blade.

BOOM.

The ground beneath his feet exploded, launching him forward at blinding speed.

Modred barely tilted his head—

Then—steel met steel.

CLANG!

The impact shook the entire Colosseum.

The shockwave ripped through the battlefield, sending cracks racing across the concrete. A wall of dust and debris shot into the sky.

The crowd gasped.

Because for the first time—Modred wasn't the one pressing forward.

Arthur's sword came down again—a devastating arc of light, faster, sharper.

Modred blocked. But barely.

The force sent him skidding back, his boots grinding against the fractured stone.

Arthur didn't hesitate. He pursued.

A golden slash from the left—parried.

A devastating thrust from the right—dodged.

A flash of movement—Modred countered, his blade tearing through the air like a viper.

Arthur twisted, avoiding the lethal strike by inches.

For the first time, Modred's crimson eyes narrowed.

This was different.

This was war.

---

Arthur was relentless.

His attacks weren't just powerful—they were refined, efficient, overwhelming. Each strike carved through the air with perfect precision, forcing Modred into a rare position—defense.

For the first time since stepping into the arena, Modred felt himself being pushed back.

Not by brute force.

But by skill.

He parried another strike, barely managing to counter with a quick slash. Arthur dodged, spinning mid-air, his golden sword cutting downward like judgment itself.

Modred barely raised his blade in time—

BOOM!

The impact sent a shockwave tearing through the Colosseum, dust and rubble exploding outward.

Modred crashed into the ground, rolling across the cracked concrete.

He gritted his teeth.

This fight was different.

Arthur wasn't just strong. He was precise. Disciplined. Unshakable.

Modred had fought monsters, demons, and warriors alike.

But Arthur—Arthur was something else entirely.

For the first time, he felt the gap.

Then—a voice spoke.

"Pathetic."

---

It wasn't Arthur's voice.

It wasn't anyone's voice.

It was something deeper.

Something inside him.

"You disappoint me."

"All that power, all that rage, and yet—"

"You hesitate."

A sharp pain tore through Modred's skull.

His vision blurred—then darkened.

And the voice laughed.

"Move aside. Let me show you how a real monster fights."

A crimson glow erupted from Modred's body.

The air shifted.

Arthur's golden eyes narrowed. "…What?"

Then—the world changed.

---

Modred's body twitched.

Then, slowly—he lifted his head.

And smiled.

A slow, unnatural grin. Cold. Detached. Completely unhinged.

His eyes were different.

No longer just crimson—but molten, burning like dying embers.

Black markings spread across his skin, pulsing like veins filled with liquid night. His mana thickened, warping the very space around him.

Arthur's instincts screamed.

This wasn't Modred.

This was something else.

Then—Modred moved.

Faster than before.

Too fast.

Arthur barely saw it—a blur of black and red, cutting through the battlefield like death itself.

His body reacted on pure instinct—he raised his sword to block.

But Modred wasn't there anymore.

A flash of movement behind him—

Then—pain.

A slash tore across Arthur's ribs, blood spraying onto the ruined concrete.

He staggered.

Then—another.

A devastating kick to the stomach. Arthur choked, barely regaining his footing before—

CRACK!

A backhand to the face. His vision blurred as he skidded backward, blood dripping from his mouth.

Arthur gritted his teeth.

This was no longer a battle.

This was survival.

---

Arthur's breathing was heavy.

Modred… no, the thing inside Modred… wasn't human anymore.

It was a force of nature.

Arthur tightened his grip on his sword.

If this was how it ended—

Then he would not die kneeling.

He exhaled.

And then, one final time—he charged.

Modred did the same.

They met in the center of the battlefield.

Two titans.

One final clash.

Steel met steel—but neither stopped.

Their blades carved into each other's bodies.

Blood splattered across the cracked stone.

Then—silence.

A gust of wind swept through the battlefield.

Neither warrior moved.

Then—slowly, both of them collapsed to their knees.

The battle was over.

---

The referees hesitated. The king of Astria rose from his seat, his gaze unreadable.

Then—his voice echoed through the Colosseum.

"This tournament is over."

The crowd erupted.

But no one cheered.

Because they all knew.

This wasn't a simple victory.