CHAPTER 18: THE STRENGTH OF RESENTMENT

«L-LYON!!!» Ayra stammers furiously. «DON’T YOU DARE LOSE TO HIM, DID I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR?!»

Her screams are so loud they would have reached my ears even without the earpiece.

I decide to blissfully ignore her; this is no time to let myself get distracted by her shouts.

Shit... Blood Words are incredibly powerful spells, but that’s exactly why they burn through huge amounts of energy—a cost that, for a mere human like me in my current state, is overwhelming.

Using even a couple of Lv.1 ones drains my magic completely.

The fight has barely started and I’ve already wasted Weapon.

Casting it again would be pointless—it would shatter my second sword just like it did the first.

I still have Deflect, the spell that reflects physical attacks, but I need to cast it with perfect timing.

If I waste it, I’ll be left with no arrows in my quiver—and that means certain defeat!

The situation grows more desperate by the second.

Without even the basics of Vis magic, I can’t hope to fight him in close combat—he’d crush me in an instant.

But right now, I fear my only option is to go at him with my fists!

Aron charges in with another assault.

In a flash he closes the distance, but I don’t back down.

He throws a punch at my face, and somehow I block it, though I feel the bones in my forearm creak.

I strike back with a punch of my own, but he dodges.

A rapid exchange follows, blow after blow, but his attacks are far stronger and faster than mine.

There’s no comparison.

It’s not just his mastery of Vis—it’s also technique.

He probably practiced some martial art in his past life, while the closest I’ve ever come to fighting was brawling on the field with rival players.

I try to block and counter, but he gives me no breathing room—a violent flurry of kicks and punches comes at me from every direction.

With one last punch, unleashed with terrifying force, he sends me crashing to the far edge of the arena.

My back slams against the red barrier that separates me from the stands.

I knew it... I knew this would end in a bloodbath.

I tried to take him head-on, hoping to find the perfect moment to cast Deflect, but it was useless.

Worse, I’ve been left in pieces!

I stagger back to my feet, blood dripping from my mouth and nose, my left hand pressed against my aching side—probably a broken rib.

«Lyon, why are you ignoring me?!» Ayra presses furiously.

Unfortunately, there’s no way to cut the connection as if it were just a phone call.

«Use your perverted power and think of me! Think of my naked body! Remember when I lay naked on top of you after drinking your blood!»

«As if I’m not already doing that!»

Ayra’s body drives me mad.

Her hips, her boobs—every detail is carved into my mind like a perfect, indelible photograph.

And yet my strength doesn’t grow, no matter how far I push my fantasies.

I imagine her with me, both of us completely naked on her bed, kissing, our bodies tangled together... but this is my limit.

I can’t go further, not even with the most obscene images.

Meanwhile, Aron advances toward me... and a spark of hope flickers inside.

His movements are still fast, but noticeably slower than before.

At last, all the blood he lost—still pouring from the wound I gave him with my sword—is starting to weaken him.

Even his Vis energy looks unstable and faint.

In the state I’m in, one more blow and I’m done... but in his condition, the same goes for him!

As he comes closer, I see his blazing blue aura condense into a single point—his right fist.

He’s preparing to unleash one final, devastating strike, pouring everything he has left into it.

A blow that promises to be deadly... but slow.

The perfect setup for...

«Blood Word Lv.1: Deflect!»

I thrust my arm forward and cast the spell just as his fist comes within a meter of me.

His punch collides with a viscous, violet disc that appears in the air between us, and then...

«The winner is Lyon Volkom!» the announcer cries with enthusiasm, instantly drowned by cheers and applause from the stands, while Aron lies motionless on the ground, hurled to the other side of the arena by Deflect’s rebound.

I collapse to my knees, utterly exhausted, every drop of energy gone.

«LYOOOON, YOU’RE THE BEST!!!»

This time Ayra’s scream doesn’t come from the earpiece but from...

—SBAM!

The moment the announcer proclaims the winner, she leaps from her seat and throws herself at me, crashing onto the arena floor.

She lands right on top of me, my face buried deep in her breasts, squeezing me so hard I can barely breathe.

I won’t deny it—having my face smothered between her boobs is somehow giving me miraculous strength.

«Ayra, you’re such a hypocrite...» I whisper with the last shred of voice I have left, even as I savor this fleeting moment of glory before the crowd and comfort in the embrace of my mistress’s breasts.