In a blur of motion, he tore Jurgen from Blut's grasp, his hand slipping seamlessly beneath the latter's just as the strike descended. The force was redirected in a single, fluid motion and cast skyward, its trajectory altered so abruptly that it detonated against the air itself, sending fragments of shattered debris raining across the battlefield.
Jurgen drew in a ragged breath, blood tracing a thin line along his lips as his body quivered under the residual force of what had nearly claimed him. It had unfolded too quickly for his eyes to follow; one moment he stood within Blut's reach, the next he found himself held firmly in Kimura's grasp, the transition so abrupt it scarcely felt real.
Hana's gaze widened, her senses struggling to keep pace with the exchange. She could not track the movements, only feel the aftermath — the violent tremor coursing through the ground, the displaced air pressing faintly against her skin. Yet even then, Blut's shadowed expression remained composed, touched by a faint, unsettling hint of amusement that did not belong in the aftermath of a thwarted killing blow.
A flicker of surprise crossed Kimura's face, subtle yet undeniable, as the realization settled with quiet certainty.
Just now… Blut had really meant to kill him.
Shock hardened into fury.
"RUDOLPH BLUTMÖRDER! What the hell do you think you're doing?!"
Kimura's voice tore across the battlefield, sharp and unrestrained, his fists clenched as he vented his anger. Jurgen's gaze drifted toward Blut as he hung limply in Kimura's grip, his eyes barely open, muscles trembling under the searing pain coursing through him. Only moments ago, he had stood on the brink of death, now he dangled between survival and collapse, spared at the last instant.
"Shut up! I hear every word, KIIIMURA YAMAZAKIIII!"
Blut's roar crashed back, fury spilling over into a twisted smile. The air thickened between them, heavy with the oppressive weight of their clashing presences. Without another word, Kimura flung Jurgen aside. His body skidded harshly across the ground before coming to a stop, and Hana rushed forward immediately, dropping beside him as she lifted his head gently onto her lap, her hands trembling but careful.
The atmosphere shifted.
Wind spiraled violently between the two men, as if the world itself braced for what was about to unfold. Their auras flared — immense, towering, radiating raw, unrestrained power that pressed outward in waves. They stood on the precipice, tension drawn to its limit, mere moments from colliding with full force.
THOOOOM!
They moved at the same time.
The ground beneath them erupted as they launched forward, twin craters splitting the battlefield in their wake before their fists met head-on.
WHOOOOOM!
The impact detonated the earth. Dust surged upward, swallowing their figures as a fracture spread beneath their feet, subtle for a fraction of a second, before exploding outward in a devastating blast. The force tore across the battlefield with enough power to level a mountain, debris scattering in every direction as chaos engulfed the scene.
And then,
Stillness.
The clash that should have continued never came.
As the dust began to settle, a lone figure stood between them.
Emperor Nemesio.
His hands were raised, each one effortlessly gripping their fists mid-strike, holding them in place as though stopping children in the middle of a quarrel. He remained unmoved, unshaken, his control absolute, his presence eclipsing theirs entirely.
Both men froze, their eyes widening in disbelief.
"…Lord Nemesio," they breathed in unison.
There was no defiance in their voices, only shock. In the next instant, they dropped to one knee, heads bowed immediately, one arm resting across the other in rigid respect.
"High Chief Commanders," Nemesio intoned, his gaze sharpening with quiet authority, "the elite of the Defense Corps… and this is how you conduct yourselves?"
"We're terribly sorry… Lord Nemesio," they replied, their voices tight with restraint. The weight of their actions settled over them at once, the realization of their recklessness striking hard. They remained lowered, caught between respect and guilt, as the silence stretched.
After a moment, Nemesio's gaze shifted past them.
He stepped forward toward Jurgen.
The young man lay with his head resting on Hana's lap, one hand clutching his chest as pain twisted across his features. Each breath came uneven, strained.
"Young man… are you all right?" Nemesio asked, extending a hand to help him up.
Jurgen looked up, meeting the Emperor's gaze. His expression tightened immediately, discomfort flashing in his eyes before hardening into something colder. Ignoring the offered hand, he forced himself upright, every movement deliberate despite the strain in his body.
Then, with a sharp flick, he slapped Nemesio's hand away.
Hana shifted behind him, trying to steady his unbalanced form, her attention fixed entirely on his condition.
"Save your pity… I don't need it," Jurgen muttered, his jaw set, eyes burning with defiance and restrained anger.
For the first time, Nemesio's composure faltered, if only slightly. A flicker of surprise crossed his features before it was gone.
A soft chuckle left him, low and controlled, carrying quiet amusement and restrained authority, while the earlier rudeness lingered just enough to leave an impression. "Your name?" he asked, his voice calm yet probing, cutting cleanly through the tension. Jurgen's teeth clenched, his jaw tightening as the shadows beneath his eyes deepened, irritation plain in his expression, yet he remained silent, offering no response.
From behind him, a hesitant voice rose, barely above a whisper.
"Um… Jurgen… Jurgen Einzelberht." Hana answered in his place, still kneeling with her hands clasped tightly before her, her gaze shifting between Jurgen and Nemesio, unsteady yet determined despite the fear she struggled to contain.
Nemesio lifted his gaze, his sharp eyes softening slightly as they moved past Jurgen and settled on her. "Ah, young woman. How do you do?" His tone was warm and composed, inviting without pressure, as though acknowledging her courage rather than testing it.
"I-I'm fine… Y-Your Highness, sir," Hana replied, her voice unsteady, a faint blush rising to her cheeks. A slight smile formed on Nemesio's lips, easing the severity of his features, though his presence remained authoritative.
"You may call me Lord Nemesio… or Sir Nemesio. 'Highness' is reserved for the Prime Ministers."
His words were measured and precise, carrying a quiet authority that required no emphasis. "And what may I call you, young woman?" "Hana… Namihara," she said, her voice soft but steadier now. "Hana…" he repeated, deliberately, allowing the name to settle before adding, "As in a wave field?"
Jurgen rose slowly, ignoring the exchange entirely, every movement strained and deliberate. One hand pressed against his chest while the other trembled slightly as he tried to steady himself, each step demanding effort as his leg dragged faintly against the floor.
"Jurgen…" Hana called after him, her voice low with concern, but he did not stop. Nemesio's laughter followed, light but controlled, his interest clearly engaged as he observed him.
"Impressive. Truly impressive," he said before continuing, his tone calm and deliberate. "Young man, come and participate in the Truemann Trials. They begin soon. Gain more training… more experience… more power." He gave slight emphasis to the final words, allowing them to linger with clear intent.
Yes… I want to see that power again, up close. So what will your answer be, Einzelberht? "It's tomorrow, if you're wondering," Nemesio added, his voice carrying clearly across the space.
Jurgen paused mid-step, the words unmistakably reaching him, and the silence that followed settled heavily, as though awaiting a response. For a brief moment, he stood still, then continued forward without turning back. A faint, knowing smile appeared on Nemesio's lips as Hana quickly moved to Jurgen's side, slipping under his arm to support him, her grip firm as she helped him walk.