Scathach PoV
Sirzechs met her gaze and nodded seriously.
"Yes."
The smirk on her face widened immediately.
"Interesting."
She tilted her head slightly.
"But tell me something, Sirzechs."
Her voice carried obvious amusement.
"How exactly do you plan on reincarnating me when you’re not that much stronger than I am?"
He already knew where this was going.
"Scath—"
She raised a hand to stop him.
"The last time we fought, if I remember correctly, the match ended in a draw."
Her grin grew even wider.
"A complete draw."
Sirzechs stared at her for several seconds.
Then he gave her the flattest look imaginable.
"Scathach."
"Yes?"
"You do realize I deliberately matched my physical strength to yours and fought using only martial arts and techniques, right?"
The smile on her face froze.
For approximately one second.
Then she looked away.
"Hmph."
A very convincing response.
"You still didn’t win."
Sirzechs pinched the bridge of his nose.
"That’s not how—"
"You didn’t win."
"Scath."
"You didn’t."
"Scathach."
The legendary warrior crossed her arms and puffed out her cheeks in a display that was far cuter than she probably intended.
"Fine."
She stood up dramatically and pointed a finger at him.
"Then fight me again."
The challenge hung in the air.
Her eyes burned with excitement.
"Defeat me."
A confident grin spread across her face.
"If you win, I’ll agree to become a member of your peerage."
Sirzechs looked at her silently.
She looked like a warrior issuing a grand challenge.
In reality, she looked more like a spoiled child demanding a rematch after losing a game.
The worst part?
She probably knew she was being unreasonable.
The previous fight had already proven everything.
Even while restricting himself to her level of physical strength, he had still managed to force the battle into a draw through superior technique alone.
The outcome would likely remain the same even if they fought ten more times.
Perhaps she knew that too.
But that wasn’t really the point.
Scathach simply wanted another excuse to cross blades with him.
To spar.
To compete.
To spend time together the way they always had.
And knowing her, she would probably join his peerage regardless of the result.
Sirzechs couldn’t help but smile.
Who could blame him?
He loved this stubborn woman.
And if indulging her meant another battle between them, then so be it.
"Fine," he said as he rose from the couch.
"I accept."
Instantly, Scathach’s eyes lit up.
The grin she gave him was bright, excited, and completely unrepentant.
Sirzechs could only shake his head.
Some things never changed.
A short while later, the two of them arrived at one of the many open regions of the Shadow Realm.
The landscape stretched endlessly in every direction.
Barren black earth.
Jagged stone formations.
Countless battle scars left behind by centuries of training and combat.
Unlike most worlds, the Shadow Realm possessed very little civilization outside of Scathach’s castle. Vast expanses of empty land dominated the realm, making it the perfect battlefield for warriors capable of shaking continents with their power.
There would be no innocent bystanders.
No cities to protect.
No mountains or forests whose destruction would matter.
They could fight as freely as they wished.
The cold wind swept across the wasteland as the two faced each other from several dozen meters apart.
Neither spoke.
Neither needed to.
They had done this countless times before.
Sirzechs raised a hand.
Crimson power gathered around his fingers before flowing outward in a torrent of destruction energy.
The energy condensed.
Compressed.
Refined.
Moments later, a magnificent war scythe appeared in his grasp.
Its long obsidian shaft seemed forged from solid darkness, while the curved blade glowed with crimson-red destruction energy. Faint cracks of scarlet light ran across the weapon’s surface like molten veins beneath black metal.
The surrounding space distorted slightly around the blade.
Even inactive, the weapon radiated enough destructive power to make reality itself uneasy.
Sirzechs casually rested the massive scythe behind his shoulder.
The pose looked relaxed.
Almost lazy.
Yet Scathach knew better than anyone how dangerous he was in that stance.
Across from him, a grin slowly spread across her lips.
With a flick of her wrist, crimson-gold magical energy gathered beside her.
A spear materialized.
The legendary demonic spear.
Gáe Bolg Alternative.
The weapon was beautiful and terrifying in equal measure.
Its crimson shaft appeared carved from a single piece of divine crystal, while intricate black runes spiraled along its length. The spearhead possessed an ominous shape resembling twisted thorns converging toward a razor-sharp point.
Countless gods, heroes, and monsters had fallen before that spear.
A weapon specifically designed for slaughtering beings far stronger than ordinary opponents.
As the spear settled comfortably into her grasp, Scathach’s aura transformed.
The playful woman from earlier vanished.
In her place stood the undefeated Queen of the Land of Shadows.
The legendary God-Slayer.
A warrior who had crossed blades with countless heroes throughout history.
The air between them grew heavy.
Not from hostility.
But anticipation.
Excitement.
The joy of two warriors meeting on equal ground.
Scathach twirled Gáe Bolg Alternative once before lowering it into a combat stance.
Her crimson eyes gleamed.
"Try not to hold back too much this time."
Sirzechs chuckled.
"I was about to say the same thing."
A smirk appeared on her face.
His own answered it.
For several seconds, silence reigned across the battlefield.
Then—
Scathach vanished.
At the exact same moment, Sirzechs disappeared as well.
Neither announced the start.
Neither counted down.
Neither needed permission.
They had fought each other far too many times for such formalities.
The battle had begun the instant their eyes met.
Scathach’s crimson eyes gleamed with excitement as she spun Gáe Bolg through the air.
The crimson spear hummed with anticipation, eager for battle.
Across from her stood Sirzechs.
Her student.
Her rival.
The man she had spent years training.
And the man who had gradually become far more important to her than she had ever intended.
A smile appeared on her lips.
"Come."
The instant the word left her mouth, both of them vanished.
Boom!
Their weapons collided.
A crimson scythe met a crimson spear, creating a shockwave powerful enough to split the earth beneath their feet.
Scathach’s eyes narrowed.
He had become faster.
Much faster.
Years ago she could casually overwhelm him.
Now every strike required her full attention.
She twisted her spear, unleashing a flurry of thrusts capable of piercing dragons.
The air exploded.
The sky trembled.
Yet Sirzechs calmly intercepted every attack.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Sparks flew.
The two figures moved across the battlefield like flashes of crimson lightning.
Scathach’s smile widened.
"Good!"
She drove Gáe Bolg forward.
The spear split into dozens of afterimages.
Each one targeted a vital point.
A technique capable of overwhelming even the strongest warriors.
Sirzechs stepped forward instead of retreating.
His scythe danced through the storm of attacks with impossible precision.
One spear strike.
Blocked.
Second strike.
Deflected.
Third.
Fourth.
Fifth.
Every attack was answered perfectly.
Scathach felt her heartbeat quicken.
Excitement.
Pride.
Happiness.
This was the warrior she had forged.
The greatest disciple she had ever taught.
Their battle continued.
Minutes became hours.
Mountains shattered around them.
The barren land of the Shadow Realm was carved apart by the aftermath of their clash.
Neither yielded.
Neither retreated.
Scathach activated rune after rune.
The air filled with glowing Norse symbols.
Enhancement.
Acceleration.
Strengthening.
Her speed increased dramatically.
Gáe Bolg blurred.
For the first time in the battle, she managed to force Sirzechs onto the defensive.
Yet instead of frustration—
He smiled.
Scathach’s instincts screamed.
Danger.
Without hesitation she thrust her spear toward his heart.
Sirzechs twisted.
The spear grazed his shoulder.
At the same moment his scythe swept toward her side.
She blocked.
The impact sent both of them flying backward.
They landed dozens of meters apart.
Breathing heavily.
Sweating.
Smiling.
Scathach laughed.
"You’ve finally become a monster."
Sirzechs chuckled.
"I learned from the best."
Something warm stirred in her chest.
Then they charged again.
Their final clash began.
Scathach unleashed everything.
Every technique.
Every rune.
Every ounce of skill she possessed.
Gáe Bolg became a storm of death.
Yet Sirzechs matched her.
Strike for strike.
Step for step.
For the first time, she realized something.
He wasn’t merely keeping up anymore.
He was surpassing her.
Slowly.
Steadily.
Inevitably.
A small smile appeared on her face.
Good.
That was how it should be.
Then she made a mistake.
A tiny one.
For most warriors, it would have been insignificant.
For Sirzechs, it was enough.
His hand shot forward.
He caught her wrist.
Scathach immediately reacted, attempting to break free.
Too late.
Sirzechs stepped behind her.
His free hand captured her second wrist.
The world spun.
Then—
Boom!
The ground cracked beneath them.
Dust exploded outward.
When it finally settled, the battle was over.
****
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