Jareth's breath came in ragged gasps, his body screaming in pain from the relentless onslaught. He had been struck countless times by Romelo's beams, each searing through his flesh, cutting deeper with every mistake. But something was changing.
Little by little, he was getting hit less.
His mind sharpened, dissecting every movement, every shift in Romelo's stance, every flick of his fingers. The battlefield was no longer just a chaotic blur—it was a chessboard, and he was seeing the patterns unfold before they happened.
Romelo smirked, launching another deceptive attack, bouncing beams off his mirrors at unnatural angles. Jareth dodged with perfect precision, avoiding them by a hair's breadth, as if he could see the future. But it wasn't foresight—it was raw, honed battle instinct, forged in the heat of this deadly duel.
His battle IQ had skyrocketed.
Jareth gritted his teeth, gripping his sword tighter. The momentum was shifting. He could feel it. His advantage was growing with every second, and Romelo—so confident in his illusions—was beginning to show subtle signs of frustration.
"This is it," Jareth muttered under his breath, launching forward like a bullet.
His blade cut through the air in a perfect arc, aimed straight for Romelo's neck.
But then—
"DODGEEEEEEEEEE BACK!!!"
Bahamut's roar echoed through his mind like a thunderclap.
Jareth's instincts kicked in, but it was too late.
A thin, near-invisible black thread flickered in his vision just as he felt a sting across his forehead. Blood trickled down into his eye.
He barely had time to register it before Romelo's laughter erupted like an earthquake.
"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!"
His voice boomed across the chamber, shaking the very ground beneath them. The air thickened with an unnatural pressure as Romelo raised his hand and yanked a blackened, ominous ring from his finger.
Bahamut's voice trembled with rare, unfiltered shock.
"Jareth! This guy… he's not a King-class demon! HE'S A DEMON LORD!"
Jareth's eyes widened in horror.
"He… was suppressing his strength the whole time?!"
"Yes!" Bahamut growled. "That's the same kind of suppression ring Lyra used before! But this time… this time it fooled even ME, the mighty Bahamut! Jareth… this bastard was playing with us!"
Jareth's grip tightened around his sword. "That means we never had a chance to begin with."
"Jareth, listen to me—at our current level, we can't win! We need to escape, now!"
Jareth clenched his jaw. "We can't. There's no way out. It's do or die, Bahamut."
Romelo exhaled, rolling his neck until a sickening crack echoed through the air. His massive, muscular frame shimmered—then shrank.
His grotesque bulk vanished, replaced by an elegant, streamlined figure. His muscles were no longer exaggerated, but tightly defined. His movements became smoother, more refined, his entire presence shifting from a brute force warlord to a true warrior of destruction.
He flexed his fingers and smiled.
"Ahhhh... Now I can finally use my full power."
In the blink of an eye, he disappeared.
Jareth barely had time to react before a bone-crushing impact hit his sword. The sheer force launched him backward, slamming him toward the stone wall—
—but at the last second, he twisted his body, planting his foot against the wall and stopping himself mid-air.
"Tch—!"
Romelo was already behind him.
A whirlwind of kicks and blade strikes rained upon Jareth. He barely managed to parry them, each block sending shockwaves through his arms.
Romelo was faster.
Stronger.
Unstoppable.
Jareth countered with a spinning slash, but Romelo leaned back just enough to dodge before twisting his entire body and delivering a kick that sent Jareth skidding across the floor.
But before Jareth could recover, Romelo's hand glowed. A beam charged, not from a mirror, but directly from his own body.
"Try dodging this."
Romelo fired.
Jareth leaped aside—but the beam didn't fade.
It continued.
It lasted ten full seconds, cutting through the battlefield like a scythe of death.
Jareth barely ducked under it, but Romelo was already there, capitalizing on his movement. A spinning kick to the ribs sent Jareth crashing onto the stone floor.
Jareth gasped, blood spurting from his lips.
Romelo's beams weren't just faster now.
They lasted longer.
And Jareth… he was completely overwhelmed.
Romelo's sword clashed with his, sending sparks flying in the dimly lit chamber. They exchanged dozens of blows in mere seconds, each movement a deadly dance of speed and precision.
Romelo flowed like water, his strikes effortless, his footwork godlike. Jareth was barely hanging on.
Every attack he threw was countered. Every dodge was predicted.
His chances of winning?
Less than 15%.
But despite everything…
Despite the hopelessness…
Jareth's eyes burned with determination.
Even against an impossible opponent—he would find a way to win.