I, the slave boy, awaken with the most potent seed!!

Denova's eyes blazed with fury as he watched Zafron effortlessly evade his attacks. Frustration and rage boiled within him, fueling his next move.

With a swift motion, he stretched forth his blade, and to Zafron's amazement, the weapon elongated, its magical nature allowing it to grow to an impossible length.

A wicked grin spread across Denova's face. "If you're evading those attacks so easily," he taunted, his voice dripping with malice, "let's see you dodge this!" As he spoke, another long sword materialized in his free hand.

Without warning, Denova launched into a frenzied assault, swinging both blades at Zafron with reckless abandon.

Zafron, relying on his newfound agility, managed to evade the first few strikes, his body twisting and bending in ways he never thought possible.

But the sheer speed and range of Denova's assault proved too much. One of the blades found its mark, slicing into Zafron's arm. Pain seared through him as blood began to ooze from the wound.

Anger flared within Zafron, overriding the pain. In a burst of reactive fury, he lashed out with a powerful kick. His foot connected solidly with Denova's face, the impact sending the attacker staggering backward.

The momentary reprieve gave Zafron a chance to assess his situation. He knew he couldn't keep dodging forever; he needed something to block these attacks.

His eyes darted around frantically until they landed on a thick, long stick lying nearby.

Without hesitation, Zafron rushed for the makeshift weapon, snatching it up in desperation.

He broke it into two clubs and gripped his improvised weapons tightly.

A cold smile spread across Denova's face, his eyes glinting with malice. "I won't be leaving here," he snarled, "until there's another dead body lying beside Konzi."

Zafron's grip tightened on his makeshift weapons, anger and determination surging through him. "That's going to be you, then," he shouted back.

Denova's face contorted with rage at Zafron's defiance.

Without warning, he hurled one of his blades at Zafron. The weapon flew with a speed and force that caught Zafron off guard, aimed directly at his face.

Time seemed to slow as Zafron reacted, tilting his head at the last possible moment. The blade whisked past, so close he could feel the air displaced by its passage.

Despite his evasion, the edge grazed his forehead, leaving a stinging cut.

The sword continued its trajectory, embedding itself deep into the side of the cart with a resounding thud.

A startled yelp came from within the vehicle. The other attacker, who had been silently watching the fight unfold, finally found his voice. "Denova!" he shouted, fear evident in his tone. "Take it easy! You almost got me killed!"

Denova didn't even turn to look at his companion, his focus entirely on Zafron. He offered no apology, merely grunting in acknowledgment.

The man in the cart, clearly agitated, continued his tirade. "You were supposed to finish him off, not endanger me! My job was to provide the cart and collect my share. I don't engage in fights!"

For the first time, Denova's attention wavered from Zafron. He half-turned towards the cart, irritation clear on his face. "Then shut up and stay out of this," he growled. "Or you'll get no share at all."

With a flick of his wrist, Denova conjured yet another blade, replacing the one stuck in the cart.

He swung them at Zafron in a whirlwind of steel, each strike precise and deadly. Zafron, using his improvised wooden weapons, managed to block most of the attacks, the clang of metal on wood echoing through the empty street.

As the fight wore on, Zafron noticed a disturbing change in his opponent. Denova's speed was increasing, his movements becoming a blur. It was as if the thief was reaching some hidden peak of power, driven by rage and desperation.

In a moment of distraction, one of Denova's blades found its mark, slicing across Zafron's wrist.

Pain flared, causing him to involuntarily release one of his makeshift clubs. The stick clattered to the ground, leaving Zafron partially defenseless.

Before he could recover, Denova seized the opportunity. With a vicious thrust, he buried one of his blades into Zafron's abdomen area.

"Arghh!!!" Zafron groaned, his widening in pain as Denova twisted the blade, eliciting an agonized scream. Blood gushed from the wound, staining Zafron's clothes and pooling at his feet.

Just as the pain threatened to overwhelm him, a menu appeared before Zafron:

[Critical damage sustained

[Vital organs intact..]

[Healing process initiated...]

'Huh...I can heal?... Wait, I can already feel the effects. It's cold...and the pain...it's subsiding although still impossible to bear. But if I can heal, then...'

Oblivious to this, Denova grinned triumphantly, his face a mask of cruel satisfaction. "Meet your end, bastard," he snarled at Zafron, raising another blade for the killing blow.

In that moment, fueled by a combination of desperation, pain, and a surge of inexplicable energy, Zafron summoned every ounce of strength left in his battered body.

"Arghhh!!!" With a roar that seemed to come from the depths of his soul, he swung the base of his remaining stick in a powerful uppercut, connecting squarely with Denova's jaw.

The impact was devastating. Denova's head snapped back, his feet momentarily leaving the ground. He hung suspended in the air for a split second before crashing down hard, his blade leaving his hand.

As Denova crumpled to the ground, Zafron, driven by a mix of pain and survival instinct, grasped the blade buried in his chest.

"Arghh..." With a pained groan, he wrenched it free, the action sending fresh waves of agony through his body.

His eyes, wild with adrenaline and shock, fixed on Denova's still form. A primal urge took over, pushing Zafron beyond rational thought.

He staggered towards his fallen attacker, the blade clutched tightly in his uninjured hand.

Without hesitation, he brought the blade down. Again and again, he struck, driven by a frenzy of fear, anger, and the raw will to survive. Blood spattered, staining Zafron's hands and face, but he didn't stop.

He continued his assault until suddenly, the blade vanished from his grip - a clear sign that Denova had passed.

He stood up, his body swaying slightly as he struggled with his injuries. Each step was a battle against pain and exhaustion as he turned away from the grim scene.

The remaining man in the cart, who had been frozen in terror throughout the confrontation, finally found the courage to move.

He scrambled out of the cart, his face pale with fear. "I-I had nothing to do with this," he stammered, holding his hands up in a placating gesture. "It wasn't my idea, I swear!"

But Zafron barely registered the man's presence, let alone his words. Seeing that Zafron had no interest in him, the man seized the opportunity and fled into the night, leaving behind the carnage and his former companions.

Zafron paused to retrieve the stick he had dropped earlier, using it as a makeshift crutch. He also picked the bracelet from the ground and made his way home.

As he limped away from the scene, he became aware of a strange sensation in his chest.

The blood that had been flowing freely from his wound was now slowing to a trickle. An evidence of the healing process at work within him.

The journey home was all but painful but he managed to find himself standing before his own door. He raised a trembling hand and knocked weakly.

Before he could knock a second time, the door swung open violently, revealing Mara's worried face.

It was clear from her expression and the speed of her response that she and Matilda had been anxiously awaiting his return.

Mara's eyes widened in shock as she took in Zafron's battered appearance. "Zafron? What happened?" she gasped, her voice laced with horror.