[SCENE 11 CONTINUED – “Shattered Duel Beneath the Devil’s Eye”]

The red-pink moon burns above like a celestial omen, casting twisted shadows across the courtyard. The air thickens with tension. Kealvor steps forward, every movement calm, deliberate—like a predator that already knows the outcome of the hunt.

Kealvor (mocking, eyes gleaming):
"Well, well… there's no need to get sooo tense, my dear. I merely came to admire the moonlight… but to see you already poised for battle?"
He spreads his arms wide.
"Truly heartwarming! Hahahaha..."

The lady narrows her eyes, her grip on her magical blade never loosening. Her armor catches the moonlight—each dent a battle survived, each breath a choice.

Lady (voice trembling with righteous fury):
"How far are you willing to go, Kealvor? Can’t you see the king’s sins? He’s bleeding the people dry, using forbidden magic, sacrificing innocents—"

Kealvor (scoffs, his tone darkens):
"Tch. You dare lecture me about sins? Have you already forgotten your own? Or… shall I remind you of what you did the last time the moon bled?"

A flicker of pain crosses her eyes—but before the guilt can take root, she lunges. Her blade glows with blinding light as she charges forward, her battle cry echoing like thunder.

—CLASH!—

A shockwave ripples out as their weapons meet, shaking nearby trees and windows. Debris scatters across the courtyard like stardust. Kealvor, utterly unfazed, blocks her strike with just a shimmer of dark energy pulsing from his palm.

Kealvor (coldly):
"Still breaking the rules, are we? Didn't your old masters teach you the first law of warriors?"

Suddenly—his eyes flick sideways. He senses it.

—A magical glyph behind him, etched into the stone under moonlight, begins to glow.

Kealvor (voice drops into a growl):
"...You thought attacking from behind would work? You thought you could trap me?!"

With a sudden burst of dark energy, he sidesteps the incoming magical strike. In a cruel twist, he grabs the lady by the arm and FLINGS her backward—right into the center of her own trap.

The runes flash. The trap activates—

—BOOM!—

A deafening burst of energy erupts, engulfing her in blinding light. When the dust settles, she’s thrown to the ground, her leg twisted awkwardly beneath her. Blood trails from a gash across her thigh, staining the white stone crimson.

She coughs, struggling, crawling to reach her sword which clattered meters away.

Her fingers scrape against the stone, nails chipping. Gritting her teeth, she tries to stand, but her leg buckles. She collapses again.

Kealvor approaches slowly. No rush. Like death itself. His eyes glow with eerie calm beneath the dual moons.

Kealvor (quietly):
"Still so noble. Still so naïve."

He stands over her now. Her reflection shimmers in his polished boots.

Kealvor (leans in):
"You were always too soft to finish what you started."