"Valcas Uer bets 37 contribution points"
"Ash Heath bets 2 contribution points"
Normally, it was already rare for a newcomer to the 'cesspit' (affectionately named by death row inmates for the prison) to participate in death matches for two consecutive days, not to mention that his opponent was none other than 'noble' Valcas, naturally attracting countless attention.
Many who weren't part of the Death Battle Society came to watch, and the audience stands were packed, with a large crowd standing at the entrance.
"Both of them are using swords... is it a swordsmanship duel? It's been a while since I've seen Sword Masters fight; every time there's a swordsmanship duel, the whole stage reeks of fragrant blood..."
"Human, hack that Elf to death!"
"What's with that sword grip, has he never learned swordsmanship? Could it be that he got scared seeing the noble pick up a sword and followed suit?"
"If you can't use a sword, don't use a sword! Isn't a spear easier to handle?"
"Clearly, an axe would be better, with one swing, regardless of the weapon, everything turns to mush."
"What... what nonsense are you spouting? Clearly, a spear is better for beginners!"
"I... I'm not spouting nonsense! An axe is the best weapon for beginners!"
Ash had one more reason to escape: he'd rather listen to people swearing than hear two old-timers with voices like Black Tornado arguing with elegant phrases like tsundere girls. It was as out of place as tofu in tom yum soup.
"That's how the cesspit is, full of buzzing flies everywhere."
Valcas looked at the iron sword in his hand and flicked it lightly with his finger, producing a clear and crisp sound.
"Maggots can't turn into butterflies. Even if they're real butterflies, in a cesspit, they're just bigger flies."
Ash chuckled, "Seems like you have a lot to say about prison life. Interested in writing a book?"
Valcas's fingers gently brushed the blade, assuming a standard swordsmanship stance.
"Ash Heath, I apologize."
As the barriers around the arena rose, Valcas transformed into a swift shadow, the long sword in his hand seeming to extend over ten meters as it pierced through the air in an instant!
Despite Ash's careful vigilance, he still couldn't block it with his sword in time. He could only barely avoid the vital point by darting to the right, and a small piece of flesh was sliced off his shoulder by Valcas's sword!
The intense pain caused Ash to gasp, but he had no time to rest, as Valcas was already within reach!
Ash didn't flee but instead went against the grain, charging right into Valcas's grasp to bring the fight into the most dangerous distance!
His rationality wasn't drowned by the pain—Valcas was ten centimeters taller than him, with long limbs. At a medium-close distance, Ash had almost no room to retaliate. Only by closing the gap to extremely close quarters could he turn Valcas's advantage into a disadvantage, rendering the sword unusable!
"Haven't you learned any swordsmanship?"
Ash suddenly felt a chill over his entire body, catching a glimpse of Valcas twisting his wrist from wielding the sword forward to backward!
Valcas's sword blocked Ash's thrust, and the Elf pivoted with an elbow, delivering a blow that hammered Ash's forehead, exploiting his height advantage!
Retreat! Retreat! Retreat!
The force of the elbow strike nearly knocked Ash out, and at that moment, the Technique Spirit, dormant in his mind, began to circulate, emitting a cool aura that quickly restored Ash's consciousness. His body maintained its combat instincts and decisively retreated!
When Ash's vision cleared, what met him was a glinting blade!
Ash scrambled up, not daring to let his back touch the ground. He looked at the wall shattered by Valcas's sword with terror, immediately followed by fear.
Their swords weren't sharpened!
The prison wasn't crazy enough to hand sharpened weapons to death row inmates to kill each other!
Earlier, Valcas had used an unsharpened blade to slice a piece of shoulder meat from Ash, which was already incredible. Ash merely assumed Valcas's sword was fast enough that even the meat on his shoulder didn't react.
But that was a stone wall!
Stop it. This isn't swordsmanship!
This went beyond the jurisdiction of swordsmanship!
"Technique... Technique Spirit?"
"You seem a bit surprised."
"Isn't it normal for Mages to use Technique Spirits in combat?"
"But the prison hasn't lifted the magic power restrictions—"
"Some things can't be locked. Even if you bind their hands and feet, they'll still grow wings and fly. The Technique Spirits born from the knowledge I wholly mastered, even without a supply of magic power, are still my power and can turn every ordinary motion into a miraculous moment."
Ash exhaled deeply; his clothes felt heavy, due to his shoulder wound soaking them with blood. He felt his strength ebbing away with the escaping blood.
Unlike barehanded boxing matches, swordsmanship death matches using cold weapons had no flashy turns, only the instant breath between life and death—the strong live, the weak die.
But somehow, he felt refreshed, the magic power in his mind even becoming active, and his shoulder didn't hurt so much.
"If a vital point is hit by such an attack, I probably wouldn't be savable, right?"
"I don't know, I've never gone full force on anyone in a death match."
With a gentle flick from Valcas, the ground as hard as steel began to crack and explode, like a giant serpent rushing beneath the surface toward Ash!
"Elf Swordsmanship Miracle, Shatter Mountain and Earth!?"
"He actually used a Miracle!"
A murmur broke out in the audience, with the faces of death row inmates almost pressed against the invisible barriers, eager for more details on Valcas.
Igula was no exception; he had seen Valcas in death matches before and anticipated Valcas's ability to use Technique Spirits.
But using a Technique Spirit and performing a Miracle were two vastly different concepts!
Every Miracle required coordination of several composite Technique Spirits to be cast, but that didn't mean having multiple composite Technique Spirits granted the ability to perform Miracles; just like how ordinary people and handsome men or beautiful women both have one mouth, one nose, two eyes, yet the results are a direct hit for angels with faces born sky-first.
The difficulty of performing Miracles was so high that 'performing a Miracle' was in itself a part of the Miracle.
Remember, those who could become Mages were already prodigious, or they wouldn't be able to advance a skill to the 'technique' realm and summon Technique Spirits.
And yet, most of these exalted ones merely aspired to master one or two Miracles in a lifetime, and this was also the average level among Mages—the ones below average hadn't even mastered a single Miracle.
With Miracles as rare as they were, their rewards and difficulty were naturally positively correlated. Compared to the straightforward effects of Technique Spirits, Miracles were more complex, grand, difficult to unravel, and even produced unpredictable effects that transcended factional chasms.
For instance, a Sword Master's Miracle might have a healing effect, a Water Mage's Miracle could evaporate enemies, and a Gun Master's Miracle might make enemies actively catch gun bullets...
A prevalent saying among Mages is, "Technique Spirits are merely extensions of our skills; Miracles are the true wonders!"
Igula also mastered Miracles, possessing all the Technique Spirits necessary for a Miracle, theoretically granting him the ability to perform one.
But he hadn't succeeded in performing a Miracle even once in prison.
If invoking a Technique Spirit in prison was like picking one's nose with a foot, albeit challenging but manageable with practice,
then performing a Miracle in prison was akin to applying makeup with one's foot—and it had to be an exceptionally beautiful job, or it wouldn't qualify as a Miracle!
Ash was done for now.
Igula watched the earth-shattering scene on the death match arena and felt pity for Ash.
Valcas was clearly aiming to kill. Under the crushing weight of a Miracle, a whole body for Ash wasn't even a thought; even finding all his body parts amid the rubble would be unlikely, and the medical practitioners in the prison's infirmary couldn't handle such severe injuries, leaving Ash's body to the ogres for processing.
This was the reality in the Kingdom of Blood Moon, where beneath the tablecloths of 'racial equality,' 'rule of law,' and 'harmonious coexistence,' carnivores still adhered to the cruel law of the jungle.
Once interests were touched, even hiding in Shattered Lake Prison meant being crushed dead by the finger of an upper position's holder.
Too bad, he was quite an interesting man...
As the earth-shattering sounds on the death match arena continued for a while, someone finally couldn't endure it.
"Why isn't he dead yet?"
"Even if the Miracle's power was reduced to less than a tenth, it shouldn't be possible not to kill someone who can't even hold a sword steady, right?"
Indeed, why wasn't Ash dead yet?
With all attention on the Miracle, the death row inmates now seriously observed Ash.
There was no good ground left on the death match arena; confronting Valcas and his effortless Shatter Earth Miracle, Ash dodged like a frantic hamster, left and right, looking disheveled and almost getting crushed into paste several times.
But he dodged every time! Every single time!
Although his movements appeared clumsy, in the eyes of these death row inmates, they were becoming more efficient with no wasted effort!
Even Ash's sword holding was becoming steadier, even able to parry Valcas's strikes!
It was practically, practically like...
"Just like yesterday's death match with the Beautiful Beast."
Someone murmured softly.
As the first victim, Igula naturally felt this intensely. He'd watched Ash become stronger and more skilled during combat, evolving from a sheltered flower who couldn't roll to a beast filled with combat instincts in just minutes.
And now, a second victim emerged.
This wretch Ash somehow managed to learn swordsmanship during a fight!?
This was prison, not some genius training center, damn it!
Yet many connected Ash's talents with his criminal charges, recalling his origins.
"The Gods of Four Pillars..."
In the dimly lit audience, Lanna clung to her boyfriend's neck, her eyes fixated on the two in the death match arena, a strange light blinking in her pupils.