Chapter 397: Duel at the End of the World

The throne room was a ruin. The once grand walls were split open by deep fractures, and the ceiling had collapsed in several places, letting snow fall in slow, constant sheets. The cold inside was merciless. Luke felt as though he’d been plunged into a frozen lake; every breath burned, scraping his lungs raw. Snow had piled in corners and swallowed the shattered stone. Fallen pillars lay like broken bones. The place had been a fortress once. Now it was dying.

Only a handful of blue torches still burned, their flames flickering weakly, as if even fire was losing hope. Soon they would go out. The cursed winter was reclaiming everything, steady and absolute. And when the cold finished devouring this place, nothing living would remain.

Only Luke and Allison stood there in that fading fragment of a world. Seven minutes. That was all that was left.

Allison stood in front of him, katana in hand. The blade glowed with a deep violet heat, glowing cracks along its edge like embers under glass. The steam rising off it curled into the frigid air like something alive. Her stance was steady, exact, eyes locked onto him without wavering.

Luke held only a small throwing knife. One he had formed from the last scraps of his mana.

[Mana Points (MP): 21/5100]

He glanced at her sword, then back at his meager weapon. A tired half-smile tugged at his mouth.

“This is a little unfair.”

He reached down to his leg holster and drew another throwing knife, light and plain.

[Mana Points (MP): 16/5100]

Two small knives. Against a katana forged from a Lord’s power.

“So you knew what I intended,” Allison said. Her voice was calm, but there was something beneath it—heavy, restrained, waiting. Her eyes were sharper than her weapon.

“Yes.”

They began circling each other, slow, watchful. A silent dance. A duel that hadn’t truly started yet. The portal pulsed behind Luke, unstable and breathing like a wound in reality. Being forced into it now would end everything.

“When?” she asked. “When did you realize I wasn’t planning to go back to Earth?”

“Does it matter?” he countered.

Allison stepped forward. Luke stepped back. Luke shifted in, Allison retreated. No waste. No openings. It was like watching two thoughts move.

“It matters to me,” she said, after a heartbeat. “Was it when I volunteered to be the Midnight King’s host?”

Luke checked the time.

[Estimated Time Until End: 07 minutes 02 seconds]

That was how long he had to drag Allison Rhiannon through that portal.

“You gave up on going back long before that,” he said.

A thunderous crack tore through the room. Part of the ceiling collapsed. Both of them moved instantly, rolling back, taking cover behind opposite pillars. Snow and dust filled the air in a choking cloud. The castle was falling apart, piece by piece. The cold wasn’t the only thing killing it. Something fundamental was unraveling. And Luke couldn’t afford to think about that. Not now. He only had one task left. One fight. One person he refused to lose. Even if she wanted to be lost.

“I noticed the signs,” he said. “A long time ago. It was just… hard to make sense of it. Someone trying so desperately to leave, but clinging just as hard. It didn’t add up.”

Allison’s footsteps were the first sound to break the silence. Light against the snow. Her voice echoed through the cold chamber.

“I needed to prove to myself that I could walk away from this place.”

She emerged from behind a pillar, and Luke understood everything a fraction of a second before it happened. He dashed aside. A compact sphere of snow tore through the air and exploded against the stone where he’d stood, scattering shards of ice.

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“I could die to something like that! My HP’s low!” he snapped, catching himself against another column.

“Your gear would absorb most of the damage.” Her voice was steady, but there was an edge beneath it. “And if you know you could die, then stop wasting time and go through the damn portal, Luke.”

She moved before he could respond. She’d used double jump without touching the snow—no sound, no warning. The katana came down in a sweeping arc. Luke threw his arm up on instinct and stumbled backward.

She tricked me.

The realization came too late. He fell into the snow, and she was already coming in again. He reacted purely on instinct: he flung one knife, and with his other hand scooped a handful of snow and hurled it into her face. Allison’s eyes shut, just for a second. It was enough. He lunged, and they both hit the ground, rolling through the white.

Allison’s kick landed hard. Pain shot through his ribs. His second knife left his hand, thrown blind toward her face. She sliced it out of the air with her katana—metal rang sharp—and he was already moving forward again, using that instant of distraction.

“Stop being an idiot!” he snarled as they grappled in the snow, arms locked, breaths ragged.

Allison raised her hand.