Callum stared down the corrupted knight, blazing resolve burning in his eyes as he set his stance and raised his sword.

  The knight moved first.

  She launched herself at him in a blur, her form drowned in unholy radiance that twisted the air around her. Callum braced, bringing his blade up to meet the strike.

  The impact was catastrophic.

  His sword shattered the instant her blade made contact. Fragments of steel scattered like sparks, yet his armor held. Even so, the force behind the blow tore through his body, slamming into his side and hurling him through several mountains in rapid succession.

  Stone collapsed and peaks crumbled.

  Callum twisted midair, bracing himself and minimizing the damage as best he could, but pain still ripped through him. He crashed through the final mountainside, coughing up blood he smiled.

  The corrupted knight was already charging again.

  As he rose, Callum extended his hand. Light surged, and his broken blade reformed instantly, whole once more. His weapon was no ordinary sword, it was a singular relic, bound to his plane, capable of infinite restoration so long as that connection endured. He had received it during his third trial, alongside his acknowledgment.

  None of that mattered now.

  What he needed was not a special blade.

  He needed more strength.

  Callum was not a god who commanded dominion, nor a king who relied on armies. His power was not ornate. He could only stop and accelerate, but he did not need more than that.

  He was a knight.

  And a knight needed only his blade.

  A bloody grin split his face as he shouted, “Come!”

  The mountain beneath them detonated as they collided again. The corrupted knight drove down upon him, cracking his blade once more before Callum answered with a brutal kick to her abdomen. The impact shattered part of her traditional armor.

  'A shame,' Callum thought fleetingly. He had hoped to salvage his ancestor’s armor, but now that it was damaged, he would hold nothing back.

  The knight surged forward again.

  Callum sidestepped her strike cleanly.

  Her swordplay was precise, fast, agile, and overwhelmingly strong, everything a child of Pendragon was famed for. Yet corruption had dulled her edge. There were mistakes now. Subtle hesitations. Sloppiness.

  Her movements were muscle memory alone.

  There was no thought behind them.

  Callum exploited this mercilessly.

  He wove through her attacks with relative ease, then drove his fist into her torso, sending her flying. Before she could even collide with the ground, Callum surged after her. The moment she regained her footing, he struck again, this time slamming his blade into her wounded shoulder.

  Black blood sprayed as she screamed.

  Then she stopped.

  Just for a moment.

  Callum’s eyes widened as she staggered, breathing heavily. Her mouth trembled as words forced their way out.

  “T-the… hunger… i-is… t-t-too… much…”

  She roared.

  The next instant, she struck him with feral force, launching him backward. She followed relentlessly, landing atop him and unleashing a savage barrage of punches, just as he had done to her moments before.

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  “Kill… the… hunger!” she screamed, tearing into his shining armor with monstrous strength.

  Callum hissed in pain, narrowly dodging a blow aimed at his head. He countered, regaining enough control to roll free and leap backward to his feet.

  “You’ve been fighting it all this time?” he asked quietly, disbelief threading his voice.

  The knight froze.

  Her form twisted violently. Her hair darkened into deep black, and an eerie aura spilled from her body. Whatever restraint remained shattered completely. Her eyes became pure void—black, empty, stripped of all purity.

  Callum stared at her.

  And smiled.

  “How… admirable,” he said with genuine awe.

  Both knights assumed their stances.

  The corrupted woman’s atum flared wildly, an energy that belonged to no plane, yet felt more primal and violent than any of them. It coiled into her blade as she roared, the air itself screaming in protest.

  Callum answered in kind.

  His weapon ignited with radiant power, glowing gold, white, and blue, light so pure it seemed to reject corruption by its very existence.

  “I hereby swear,” Callum began, then paused, shaking his head.

  “No… not as Callum Stillro.”

  He straightened, voice firm.

  “As Callum Pendragon, last son of the Pendragon dynasty, I swear to release you from your suffering, once and for all.”

  Power surged through him as his blade shone brighter.

  “I am the Shining Knight,” he declared.

  “I am he who purges evil.

  I am he who becomes the light within darkness.

  I am he who protects his people.”

  He closed his eyes briefly, drawing in one steady breath. When he opened them again, his gaze was unwavering.

  “I am he who will free you from this fate you were forced to endure!”

  Both forces reached their peak.

  A swirling aura of black, crimson, and violet wrapped the corrupted knight’s blade, howling with hunger and ruin.

  Opposite her stood Callum, his sword blazing with white-gold and azure light, radiance poised to cleanse the corruption that had claimed his ancestor.

  The final clash was inevitable.

  For a fleeting moment, time itself seemed to halt.

  Both knights roared.

  The corrupted knight’s cry was feral, no longer human, but the scream of a maddened beast driven by endless hunger. Callum answered with a roar of pure resolve, a declaration of his will to end the suffering of his fallen ancestor.

  Then, in less than an instant, their powers collided.

  The auras clashed violently, annihilating the space between them. A titanic gust of wind erupted from the impact, flattening what remained of the surrounding peaks. Their blades extended through sheer force of will and energy, allowing them to strike even from dozens of meters apart, steel and power screaming as they met again and again.

  Radiance and darkness intertwined, twisting upward toward the heavens like warring storms.

  At first, they were evenly matched.

  Then the balance shifted.

  The dark energy began to push back the radiant light, slowly, inexorably. Callum narrowed his eyes as he felt the pressure mounting against him. For a heartbeat, he watched the encroaching darkness in silence.

  Then he grinned.

  “I suppose,” he said calmly, the corner of his mouth curling, “it was rather rude of me.”

  His grin sharpened, irritation flashing across his face.

  “I don’t yet have full control over this… so I had hoped to avoid using it.”

  His voice deepened, brimming with fierce pride and rising fury.

  “However, it seems this noble elder of mine has proven herself more than worthy of the full wrath of her junior!”

  His eyes ignited, one blazing with vibrant azure, the other burning with radiant gold. His shattered armor reformed in a surge of light, reforging itself into something purer and far more resplendent. Divine radiance spilled across its surface, impossible to deny.

  His blade transformed as well, no longer merely a relic, but a holy weapon, humming with overwhelming authority.

  Callum roared.

  Behind him, a colossal celestial dragon manifested, its form luminous and ancient. It gazed upon him for a single, solemn moment before dissolving into golden dust. The particles rushed forward and merged with Callum’s body.

  His spirit had fused with his own.

  His skin shifted, becoming pale and rough, echoing the celestial dragon’s form. Power surged through every fiber of his being, and his blade’s aura flared brighter than ever before, blinding, absolute.

  The balance shattered.

  Callum’s energy surged forward, overwhelming the corrupted knight’s dark aura and driving it back relentlessly. As the radiant force closed in, the knight’s eyes widened.

  And then, softly, she smiled.

  She was glad.

  Glad that it was ending.

  The holy energy consumed her, tearing through dozens of mountains in its wake, erasing them as though they had never existed. The land screamed beneath the force of the final strike.

  When the light finally dimmed, Callum stepped forward through the ruined stone.

  Her body lay before him.

  The gray, broken form of his elder, dying, but not yet gone.

  Callum looked down at her, his expression heavy with sorrow. His grip tightened around his blade as regret settled deep in his chest.

  “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I had hoped you would have died from that attack.”

  He forced a faint, brittle smile, tinged with false pride.

  “But… you were too strong.”

  The corrupted knight turned her gaze toward him, exhaustion etched into every feature.

  “Thank… you…” she whispered faintly.

  “…my son.”

  Callum staggered back a step, shock rippling through him. His jaw clenched, teeth grinding together as he raised his blade with trembling hands.

  Without another word, he thrust it forward, piercing her heart and ending her suffering at last.

  He remained standing there long after her body fell still, staring down at her lifeless form. Once again, the truth pressed in upon him with unbearable weight.

  He was the last.

  The final living member of the Pendragon dynasty.

  Eventually, his voice broke the silence.

  “A Knight…” He hesitated, breath catching.

  “…A Knight always protects his people, isnt that right?”

  The wind carried his words away, leaving only ruin, and the lone knight standing among it.