"Well, game over!"
"Alexander Kalman Rybak!"
"You lost!"
Rudeus controlled the Mana Armor as he approached Alexander step by step, his footsteps slow but immensely heavy.
With every step, the earth let out a dull groan. Deep footprints sank into the scorched soil, and cracks spread outward like spiderwebs.
Alexander gripped his sword with both hands and bit his lip. He said nothing, merely watching Rudeus approach step by step.
Just as Rudeus came within a single step of Alexander, Alexander spoke.
"No, I won't admit defeat. A swordsman dies on his feet. There's no reason for him to live on his knees."
"Come on, Azure Death God. One last time!"
By now, Alexander had recovered from all his injuries thanks to his Immortal Demon Race bloodline. Despair had left his eyes, replaced by a glimmer of resolve.
Ah, how long has it been since I experienced this? The last time this happened was when I fought that bastard Randolph.
Alexander trembled all over at the thought. The frustration of being utterly crushed, the helplessness of being unable to so much as touch his opponent's clothes no matter how hard he struggled-it was exactly like back then.
"Damn it!"
And once again, someone called the Death God had completely thrashed him. His mood could not have been worse, but that was precisely why he could not simply concede.
Giving up like this would undoubtedly mean compromising with himself. Then he would have grown no more than he had back then. He could not remain stuck in the past like this, could not live forever in the shadow of that defeat.
Even if he lost, he would leave no regrets!
At that thought, the fighting spirit filling Alexander burned so fiercely that even Rudeus, standing before him, felt hot all over.