Elite Pain Painful Duel 5 3l 〈2027〉

The bell chimed once, softly.

The air in the dueling hall of the Obsidian Citadel was thick with the scent of ozone and old blood. Two figures stood frozen at the center of the pentagram-carved floor, their shadows stretching like wounded beasts under the flickering azure torches.

Next.

He opened his mouth. No sound came out. His body convulsed as a thousand deaths—none of them his—tore through his nerves. The obsidian shards fell from his armor like dead leaves. His eyes went white.

“What… are you?” Elite Pain whispered, for the first time feeling a cold trickle of something unfamiliar: doubt. Elite Pain Painful Duel 5 3l

The bell chimed again. Is that all?

Without a word, 3l bent down, picked up Lament , and snapped it over one knee. The pieces dissolved into ash. The bell chimed once, softly

3l was now within arm’s reach. They raised a palm. The mask’s eye sockets, previously dark, ignited with a soft, terrible gold light.

Across from him, the challenger was simply known as 3l. No armor. No weapon. Just a thin figure in a grey tunic, hands clasped loosely in front of them. Their face was a smooth, featureless mask of polished bone. His body convulsed as a thousand deaths—none of

He moved first—a blur of black and crimson. Lament arced through the air, screaming like a damned soul. It wrapped around 3l’s extended forearm.

But 3l did not flinch.