CHAPTER 57: THE PYRRHIC EXCHANGE

The field outside Lyranth’s walls had been hastily cleared, creating a circle of dead grass a hundred meters wide.

Arthur stood at one edge, the noon sun casting short shadows, while Emperor Lyralei waited at the other. Between them, the air shimmered with heat that had nothing to do with natural weather.

"Standard dueling rules?" Lyralei called out. "First blood, submission, or death?"

"Whatever ends this fastest," Arthur replied, rolling his shoulders. He’d left his armor behind, wearing only simple clothes that wouldn’t restrict movement.

His System hummed with readiness, displaying tactical options he ignored. This wouldn’t be won by statistics.

Through his bonds, he felt his women watching from the walls. Beatrice’s magical theory burned in his mind—her System Disruptor concept she’d explained in hurried whispers. Theoretical, untested, probably suicidal. Perfect.

Lyralei’s transformation was instant. One moment a man, the next a living inferno. The phoenix form was smaller than his arrival display—compact, lethal, built for combat rather than intimidation. Flames that burned white-hot at the core spread wings fifteen feet wide.

Arthur moved.

His supernatural speed turned him into a blur, circling the phoenix faster than fire could track. Lyralei responded by detonating—a sphere of flame expanding outward. Arthur phased through it with Lustborn Intangibility, emerging behind the phoenix with his fist already swinging.

The impact sent Lyralei tumbling, more from surprise than damage. Phoenix fire couldn’t be hurt by normal means, but Arthur’s fist had carried something else—a pulse of his System’s energy, formatted according to Beatrice’s theories.

Disrupt the connection between host and System.

Lyralei’s flames flickered, just for a second. Then they roared back twice as hot.

"Interesting," the Phoenix Emperor’s voice echoed from the flames. "You’re trying to break my System. Clever. Futile, but clever."

The counterattack came as a wall of fire. Arthur couldn’t phase through this—too much energy, too concentrated. He leaped above it, but Lyralei was already there, talons extended.

They collided in midair. Arthur caught the talons with bare hands, his supernatural strength matching phoenix might. The heat was excruciating, his skin blistering and healing in rapid cycles. They spun through the air, neither giving ground.

"Fifty years," Lyralei hissed, his beak inches from Arthur’s face. "You think months of power can match decades?"

"I think you talk too much," Arthur replied, then headbutted the phoenix.

It shouldn’t have worked. But Arthur channeled everything through that strike—his System’s energy, his bonds’ support, and most importantly, the Disruptor pattern. His forehead connected with Lyralei’s beak, and reality hiccupped.

Both Systems screamed warnings. The phoenix fire guttered like a candle in wind. Arthur’s interface filled with error messages. They separated, crashing to earth on opposite sides of the field.

Lyralei rose first, his form flickering between phoenix and human. "What did you—"

Arthur’s knee caught him in the solar plexus. No supernatural speed this time—the System was struggling to maintain basic enhancement. Just good timing and brutal efficiency. Lyralei doubled over, flames sputtering.

But the Phoenix Emperor hadn’t survived fifty years by being soft. His hand shot out, fingers wreathed in concentrated fire, and punched through Arthur’s guard to strike his chest. The impact carried more than heat—it carried System energy, phoenix code trying to overwrite Incubus protocols.

Arthur’s vision went white. His System’s interface shattered like glass, then reformed, then shattered again. He could feel it—two different transformation protocols trying to occupy the same space. His body couldn’t decide if it should burn or seduce.

They broke apart, both breathing hard. Lyralei was fully human now, blood running from his nose. Arthur’s chest bore a handprint burned through cloth and flesh, healing too slowly.

"Mutual disruption," Lyralei observed, wiping blood with the back of his hand. "Your girlfriend’s quite the theorist. But you didn’t think it through—disrupting my System disrupts yours too."

Arthur felt it—the Incubus System running emergency diagnostics, half its functions offline. His bonds were still there but muted, like voices heard through water. The supernatural strength remained but fluctuated wildly.

They circled each other, both adjusting to diminished capabilities. Then they moved simultaneously.

The next exchange was pure violence. No flashy transformations, no reality-bending powers. Just two enhanced humans trying to beat each other to death with rapidly failing advantages. Arthur’s fist cracked against Lyralei’s jaw. Lyralei’s knee found Arthur’s ribs. They grappled, rolled, each trying to find the decisive hold.

Blood spattered the dead grass—both of theirs, mixing indistinguishably.

Arthur managed to get mount position, raining down strikes. But his System flickered with each impact, strength varying wildly. One punch shattered the ground. The next barely split Lyralei’s lip. The inconsistency let Lyralei buck him off, reverse positions.

"Yield," Lyralei gasped, his own strikes equally erratic. "We’re killing our Systems. Both of us."

"You first," Arthur snarled, catching a punch and converting it into an armbar.

The joint lock was perfect—Earth knowledge combined with supernatural precision. Lyralei’s arm should have snapped. Instead, phoenix fire erupted randomly, without control. Arthur’s sleeve ignited, the pain breaking his concentration. They separated again, both worse for wear.

Arthur’s System interface was a mess of static. Warnings scrolled past too fast to read. Core functions failing. Bond network compromised. Emergency shutdown imminent.

Across from him, Lyralei wasn’t doing better. The emperor’s form kept trying to shift—human to phoenix to something between. Feathers sprouted and burned away. His eyes cycled through human brown and phoenix gold.

"Draw?" Lyralei suggested, spitting blood.

"Not a chance," Arthur replied, though standing was becoming difficult.

They rushed each other one more time. Arthur’s fist met Lyralei’s in a perfect cross-counter. The impact sent shockwaves through the field, dead grass exploding outward. Both men froze, fists extended, eyes locked.

Then Arthur’s System shut down.

The interface vanished. The supernatural strength cut out like a severed wire. The bonds went silent. For the first time in months, Arthur Lionheart was just human.

Lyralei wasn’t much better. The phoenix fire died completely, leaving an exhausted fifty-year-old man who looked every year of it.

They stood there, fists still touching, both too proud to be the first to fall.

"Your System?" Lyralei asked quietly.

"Dead. Yours?"

"Dormant. Maybe permanent." A bitter laugh. "Your theorist was too good."

Arthur felt naked without the System’s presence. Vulnerable. Mortal. His legs shook with the effort of standing. Around them, both armies watched in stunned silence, unsure what they were witnessing.

"We can’t continue like this," Lyralei observed. "I can’t maintain my empire without the phoenix. You can’t hold your prophecy together without your System."

"Then we both have problems," Arthur agreed.

They lowered their fists simultaneously, neither willing to call it surrender. Blood dripped steadily from both men, painting the dead grass red.

"Three days," Lyralei said finally. "I need to... assess the damage. Determine if recovery is possible."

"One week," Arthur countered. "This kind of damage doesn’t heal quickly."

"Five days." Lyralei turned, walking slowly toward his forces. Each step looked painful. "And Arthur? Next time, no tricks. Just power against power."

"Assuming we have power left," Arthur muttered.

The Phoenix Emperor’s bitter laugh carried across the field. Then he was among his soldiers, who rushed to support their wounded leader. The dragons circled lower, confused by the absence of phoenix fire.

Arthur turned toward Lyranth, where his people waited. The walk looked impossibly long. His chest burned where Lyralei’s handprint marked him. His System remained silent, not even error messages remaining.

He’d won, technically. Driven off the invasion. But at what cost?

Through the severed bonds, he couldn’t feel his women’s emotions. Couldn’t access his supernatural abilities. Couldn’t even tell if the connections would ever restore.

Five days to figure out if he was still the Demon King, or just another mortal playing with forces beyond comprehension.

His legs gave out halfway to the walls. The last thing he saw before darkness claimed him was Beatrice running toward him, her face twisted with guilt and fear.

Theoretical became practical, he thought distantly. Now we deal with the consequences.

Then nothing.