The naga becomes increasingly more enraged the more Ze evades all its attacks. It swipes its tail back and forth at Ze with increased strength. He jumps over it, under it, to the side, to the other side. His smile widens with each failed blow, a carefree expression painting his features—one I've never seen before. It's almost as if he's using the naga's tail as his personal jumping rope.

I can't believe I was ever worried for him when it seems he's not afraid of anything—not even deadly venom.

Dashing forward, the naga tries to use its wind power at the same time as its tail, but Ze's ability to move in the blink of an eye makes it impossible for the naga to catch him. One second he's in front of it, the next he's in the back, his sword raised high as he cuts half of the naga's tail.

A sharp shrill erupts in the air, and for a moment, I feel bad cheering at someone else's misery. But as Ze gives me a glance, red and blue blood soaking his face, his lips widen in a dashing smile. I find myself returning the smile, excitement building inside of me.

The naga crashes to the ground, rolling around in pain. Ze casually walks to its side, counting the rings with the tip of his sword before cutting another line straight through the naga's body. In just a few seconds, it stops moving, slumping to the ground.

I dash to Ze's side and throw myself in his arms.

"You did it," I exclaim, giggling.

"It was nothing," he mumbles grumpily, but he tightens his arms around me.

"You don't have to be modest," I say as I lean back to look at him.

He's a mess, his face stained with the combined blood of all his opponents.

Pursing my lips, I lift my hoodie, taking my undershirt out of my leggings and tearing a small strip of cloth from the hem. Lifting it up, I dab it around his face, doing my best to clean the residual blood.

Ze stares at me in wonder, utterly still, his purple eyes swirling like a beautiful galaxy.

"Are you always this messy when you fight?" I ask jokingly.

He blinks. Slowly, he shrugs.

"I believe so," he answers gruffly, averting his gaze.

Underneath all that blood and grime, his cheeks are still red, and no matter how much I try to scrub them, the redness won't come off.

"You are not disgusted by me?" he asks in a quiet voice, his eyes on me, unblinking.

"Why should I be?" I raise a brow. "You're a wonderful fighter, and you saved me." I smile, shrugging.

He stares at me.

One second. Two. I lose count of the seconds that pass as he stares at me, never once blinking. My hand stills on his cheek, and I return his regard, curious as to what got his interest.