(Author's Note: I've changed both commanders' ranks to Grade 3 Gold. I'll also make the necessary edits in the previous chapters as soon as possible.)
———
Kyle watched as Rodrick's blade came down in a brutal arc, severing Halric's legs in one clean strike.
Blood sprayed across the scorched earth, painting the dirt crimson. Halric didn't scream.
He just collapsed. His body twitching. His breath ragged. His sword. Shattered.
His pride... broken.
Kyle didn't move.
He had expected this.
Even though both Halric and Rodrick were Gold-rank fighters. There was a clear difference between them.
Rodrick wasn't just stronger. He was smarter. More ruthless. More desperate.
And now, after that fight. He was wounded. Exhausted.
'Good.'
That had been the plan all along.
Kyle had known Rodrick wouldn't kill Halric right away. The man was too proud for that.
Too consumed by his own rage. He'd want to savor the moment, drag out the suffering.
