Somewhere in the Voiceless Region, unrest had gripped the continent since the strongest Knight, Kysa, disappeared. At the heart of the Dark Stadium, an ancient fortress that could house hundreds of thousands, a tournament was underway to end the dispute.

The violence and slaughter were now being channeled under the disciplined order decreed by the unknown man. They sought to crown the strongest Knight's successor.

Many fighters distinguished themselves during the siege, but everyone was waiting for one particular match.

The woman with white hair falling to her shoulders and faded blue eyes possessed a stunning beauty that spoke of confidence and allure. She'd already defeated four opponents without drawing her sword or breaking a sweat.

She was the Child of Deceit, Seraphim.

Unbeknownst to everyone present, she'd played a big role in Kysa, the strongest Knight's, disappearance. Yet she had her own fan club. Unlike Halo, whose only club consisted of people wanting him dead, she was actually being cheered on.

But this time, there was an obstacle. Seraph's opponent was familiar, someone she'd faced before.

Someone she couldn't simply dispatch with gentle strikes, not without killing her: Clara, the Persistent Mantis, tenth member of the Vile of Hawk.

Clara rested her axe on her shoulder, dressed in cutoff jeans and a red crop top. She stood in a casual pose, staring directly at the beauty before her. She remembered all too well: the last time they'd met, she lost an arm. It had cost her everything.

The crowd erupted, people gambling their Sin Fragments away, but for these two women, this was more than entertainment. Neither could afford to lose. This was a battle between honor and pride.

The announcer began the fight enthusiastically, clearly biased. "The Persistent Mantis, the one who could destroy an entire castle on her own, the one-woman army!" His words made the crowd cheer for Clara even more, but when he only referred to Seraph as "the pretty girl," her fans took offense.

Meanwhile, neither Clara nor Seraph cared about those titles. They stared into each other's eyes for what felt like an eternity, but while Seraph remained motionless, Clara struck first.

She rested the axe on the floor.

"You're too pretty for this. You've seen how brutal I can be, so why chase this title? Just forfeit. I'd hate to ruin that face."

A soft smile played on Seraphim's lips, and she sighed. Her mouth parted slightly as if she wanted to speak but didn't. She assumed her stance and beckoned Clara forward.

Clara sneered.

"You won't even use your sword? Fine. I'll make you regret it."

She charged at Seraph, but the Child of Deceit only maintained her smile, appearing unbothered by the threat as she watched Clara's axe descend.

Seraph sidestepped with practiced ease as the axe slammed into the floor, cracking the ground where it landed.

Clara's usual laughter rang out next, full of enthusiasm. Using the momentum from her attack, she propelled herself forward and leaped, kicking at Seraph.

The attack was too fast and came out of nowhere. Given where Clara stood, it shouldn't have been possible to deliver an attack, but Seraph knew she'd done more impossible things. Still, she couldn't block it fully as the kick sent her sliding backwards on her feet.

The Persistent Mantis had her where she wanted. The instant Seraph paused, Clara was already after her, axe arcing toward the Child of Deceit's neck.

Seraph's eyes widened in alarm. Her hands remained up from blocking Clara's kick, but she was suddenly caught in a dilemma that even she couldn't comprehend.

Her hands trembled, uncertain whether to hold her guard or drop it. She acted on panicked instinct and dropped them. Her knees buckled just in time to evade the blade, but not completely.

Her body was pale, and there was a slight cut on her throat. She gulped.

Panic swept the crowd, especially among Seraph's supporters. The attack nearly made their hearts stop, but cheers erupted the instant they saw she was okay.

From the crowd's perspective, Seraph had evaded the strike easily. She just had to drop into a < shape with her legs to survive. That was all.

But the truth was different, Clara's laughter and the terror in Seraph's eyes revealed as much.

Before the Child of Deceit could even breathe, the Persistent Mantis was on her. With brutal, inhuman speed, her axe struck everywhere but the killing spots.

Clara's wild laughter echoed as she dragged Seraph across the arena. Her fists found Seraph's chin, gut, jaw, and ribs, every spot she could strike without killing.

All the while, she demanded Seraph draw her sword, cursing her to never disrespect her again. This was about humiliation, nothing else.

Soon, the crowd went silent. The announcer's dirty jokes ceased, those who'd wagered money stopped, and Seraph's fans and even Clara's supporters alike stood frozen, staring at the Child of Deceit.

"Uhm… Clara, don't you think you went too far?"

The announcer asked awkwardly.

But Clara only laughed, holding Seraph by the hair before dropping her to the floor.

Seraph's breath came in broken chunks. Strips of her flesh littered the ground, and the gashes carved into her face ran so deep that her bone gleamed through.

Her nose hung shattered, the whites of her eyes flooded red, and one eye already bulged grotesquely from its socket.

The sand clung to torn meat, ground into her skin as if Clara had dragged her face across it like chalk on a chalkboard.

Nothing about Seraph looked human anymore. It was as though she were a corpse left to rot for months, beaten past recognition.

She struggled even to rise, her trembling arms unable to support her weight. Then she collapsed face-first, breath churning the sand beneath her, mangled skin sticking to the ground. Pain so severe that merely standing would bring tears.

But she forced herself through it. One last push and she was on her feet again. The smile never came as easily as before, but even though it was twisted and horrific, it was there.

It was as though she remembered why she fought this battle. Something she couldn't lose to.

The crowd winced at how she looked, some growing empathetic and feeling her dread.

Clara spun toward her, annoyed and confused. But her face became even more puzzled when she noticed blue flames igniting on the Child of Deceit's skin.

It was faint, barely visible to the crowd, but soon enough, they looked confused as well.

Seraph's smile softened as flames erupted across her skin, mending everything Clara had broken, though not a scrap of her clothing was touched.

But then, having shocked everyone, Seraph suddenly started coughing—violent, blood-filled coughs as if her heart were being ripped out. Something not even Clara's beating had managed to cause.

Clara frowned.

"What the fuck are you?"

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