THE TRANSMIGRATION BEFORE DEATH

The sound of steel on steel rang through the chamber — sharp, bright, and merciless.

Avin lunged forward, blade sweeping across the air. Henry twisted his wrist, meeting the blow with a clean parry that sent sparks flying between them. The vibration shuddered up both their arms, a pulse of raw energy that only made them step closer, swords locking midair.

Clang!Clash!Shhhrang!

Each collision left trails of light streaking across the floor as their mana-infused blades carved faint afterimages into the air.

Henry moved fast — faster than Avin had expected — his footwork crisp, balanced, professional. Each step he took made the tiles beneath him crack slightly from the sheer pressure of mana pulsing through his legs.

Avin countered blow after blow, eyes flashing crimson with each swing. He shifted his stance, lowering his center of gravity. The clash became more rhythmic — a staccato of motion, one strike after another, neither holding back.

The room pulsed with heat. Every impact echoed like thunder rolling through stone.

Avin's blade caught Henry's at an angle; the recoil forced them both apart. The prince's voice carried faintly from the sidelines — something about form, precision — but neither of them was listening.

They circled each other.

Avin smirked faintly, bringing his sword to shoulder height. Henry mirrored him unconsciously, the faint blue hue around his weapon brightening.

Then they both moved at once.

Avin feinted left, Henry pivoted right. Their swords collided in a whirl of motion — metal shrieking, mana bursting in gold and azure sparks. The air crackled between them, hot enough to warp vision.

Avin stepped in close, forcing Henry back with a powerful overhand slash. Henry barely blocked, the impact rattling his arm. Avin didn't relent. He pressed harder, his blade dancing from high to low, sweeping across the ground with enough force to blow up loose debris.

Henry dodged one strike, then another, his boots scraping against the arena floor.

Avin spun, his sword whistling through the air, catching Henry's blade again. This time the force sent both their swords grinding, vibrating with mana as the air rippled outward in a pulse of invisible pressure.

Avin gritted his teeth, pulling his sword back. His breath came shorter now — sweat trickling down his temple — but his grin stayed.

Henry dashed forward again, raising his sword high, but Avin met him halfway. The two collided once more.

KRRRANG!

The power behind the strike shook the entire room. A burst of gold and blue mana surged outward, scattering dust like a storm.

Avin's sword began to glow — at first faintly, then brighter, its light burning hotter by the second until it gleamed gold like molten sunlight. The energy pulsing through it hummed with divine resonance.

His crimson eyes reflected the glow as he exhaled sharply. "Alright," he muttered, "enough warm-up."

He lunged, sword raised, and brought it down in one sweeping arc.

Henry crossed his sword to block, but the golden impact landed like a cannon. The explosion of force knocked him clean off his feet, the ground cracking beneath him as he was hurled backward.

He tumbled, rolling across the arena floor in a blur, sparks trailing behind him.

But he didn't fall.

Somehow, Henry twisted mid-roll and landed on his feet, his sword digging into the ground for balance. He slid backward several meters before finally stopping, one boot carving a trench into the floor.

He lifted his head, breathing hard, hair disheveled, eyes locked on Avin.

Avin lowered his weapon slightly, chest heaving, sweat beading his forehead. Then—

He froze.

His pupils dilated.

"What the hell…" he breathed.

Through his crimson sight, Avin saw it — Henry's mana. It had exploded, multiplied, fivefold in an instant.

A dense aura rippled around him, forming a massive spherical shell of raw energy that bent the air. It looked like a storm given shape — wind and power spinning in silent fury.

Avin's heart kicked hard against his ribs. "That's… not normal," he muttered, eyes narrowing. Whatever Henry was about to do, it wasn't just a spell. It felt alive.

He poured what little mana he had left into his sword. The golden light flickered, then steadied weakly — but his reserves were draining fast.

The glow on his blade began to stutter, pulsing unevenly.

"Oh no," he hissed under his breath, glancing at his weapon and then back at Henry.

Henry shifted his footing, right leg sliding behind the left in a graceful pivot. His whole body followed the motion, twisting slightly as if winding up for something colossal. His grip on his sword tightened.

Then he looked up — and smiled.

"I'm sure you're strong enough for this."

Avin's brows furrowed. "Strong enough for wh—"

"Dragon Dance," Henry said softly, and the world seemed to still.

He rotated his wrist, angling his sword to the side. The blade vibrated with a rising hum, blue mana surging along its surface like liquid flame.

"First Form…" he murmured, raising the weapon.

The air darkened for a heartbeat — the blue glow brightened, stretching into a ghostly shape.

"Dragon Sweep!"

Henry swung.

A burst of light ripped through the air, forming into the silhouette of a colossal dragon — translucent blue, serpentine, its scales shimmering like shattered glass. The creature roared soundlessly as it rushed forward, its long body twisting midair like a heavenly serpent.

Its sheer size dwarfed the arena — six meters wide, six high, its form undulating like liquid lightning.

Avin's eyes widened. There was no space to dodge. No time.

"Shit—!"

He crouched low, yanking his second sword from his back in one swift motion. The twin blades crossed before him in an X-shape just as the spectral dragon struck.

BOOM!

The impact hit like a divine hammer. The entire arena erupted in blue light and wind.

Avin grunted, his boots sliding backward as the floor cracked beneath him. He tried to hold, muscles straining, veins standing out across his arms. But the force was too great. The protective X-shape faltered, his knees buckled—

And then he was launched.

The explosion sent him crashing through a column of fractured stone. He rolled, skidding across the floor, the ground scraping against his shoulder.

When he stopped, the world spun.

His arms trembled, his blades vibrating weakly in his grip.

He forced his head up. Henry stood amid the fading haze of blue energy, chest rising and falling, aura flickering.

Avin smiled faintly, even through the pain. "He's stronger than me…" he muttered, dragging himself up. "But—"

Henry blinked suddenly. His eyes widened.

"When—"

He looked down.

A small dagger was embedded in his chest — clean, precise, buried deep beneath the ribs.

His sword slipped from his hand with a faint clang. He lifted his gaze to Avin, who stood shakily on his feet, blood trickling from his lip but smiling nonetheless.

"Clever," Henry whispered.

Then he collapsed, the blue aura dispersing like smoke, leaving only the echo of the dragon's roar fading in the still air.

To Be Continued