A strange sight unfolded. Werther was the one gripping the blade, yet Marco, who held the Sword Hilt, was the one bleeding.
The other Intent Blood in his hand shot out and pierced Marco's chest. Electromagnetic Force took hold again, binding the sword firmly to him.
Swish. Intent Blood retracted its tendrils. Werther took the sword from Marco's hand, tossed it lightly, and caught its Sword Hilt.
Marco's face was full of frustration. One careless mistake had left him on the defensive for the entire fight.
He had started losing ground the moment he used Death Flame.
Death Flame killed any living thing it burned. It was a terrifying ability, the sort of thing a game might call an instant-death skill.
But such power came with a risk: it took a long time to recover. Marco had been so startled by Werther's frightening speed that he had gambled on it.
Ever since, Marco had been beaten back. Intent Blood had drained his Life Force for so long that even this strong-willed man had finally fallen.
Lying in the cold snow, Marco felt a chill. How long had it been since he had last felt cold, ever since gaining his Devil Fruit ability? It was a sign that he was close to death.
Marco might have been known as the Phoenix, but he was not immortal. After Intent Blood drained so much of his Life Force, he had fallen.
"I won't call you a fool for coming after me for revenge. With your strength, you had a chance to kill me. But you rely too much on your Devil Fruit ability. You're strong in both speed and power, yet you have no particular strength of your own.
"So goodbye."
Werther raised Intent Blood, ready to kill Marco where he lay. Marco