He blurred forward in an instant—one second, he was across the field, and the next, he was right in front of me.
His spear gleamed, coated once more with that telltale sparkling light.
"[Fierce Blow]!" he roared.
I barely ducked in time, twisting sharply to the right as the spear slammed into the ground with a brutal crack, the sheer force of it uprooting chunks of stone and earth like they were made of sand.
He was already moving again, gritting his teeth as he raised his right leg for a sweeping side-kick. But I'd seen it coming.
The moment his leg lifted, I reacted on instinct. My boot came crashing into his chest with a sickening crunch, and I felt the sensation of his torso beneath my foot—like I'd just stepped on a half-filled water bottle.
He choked, spitting mucus as he stumbled backward, tumbling across the dirt.
But he was fast. Too fast.
Rolling with the impact, he kicked off the ground and sprang back to his feet. The brat's expression had shifted—no longer the smug, arrogant young master I'd been dealing with. His eyes gleamed with a cold clarity, like something inside him had finally snapped into place.
"You really are a Lancaster," he said with something resembling respect, though it was warped through gritted teeth.
I chuckled inwardly. 'Oh great. He's evolved past 'spoiled trash' mode. Just my luck.'
'Can't you go back to being a dumb, delusional bastard? At least that was easy to mock and handle.'
My eyes flicked to the ground. His spear had landed right beside me.
I gave it a passing glance, then slowly raised my foot and—BANG—brought my heel down on the shaft with all the strength I could muster.
The weapon shattered under the force, splinters of wood and shards of glowing metal scattering across the dirt.
I half-expected a tantrum. Curses. Rage. Maybe even another reckless charge. But instead...
No rage. No screams. No flailing. Just an eerie stillness.
Then he dashed at me—not like a berserker, but like a grappler. Arms wide, low to the ground, trying to grab me.
'Oh, so that's your plan? Tackle me?'
'Bad move, buddy. I majored in street fights back on Earth. I was the baddest bitch in the hood...wait that didn't sound right..'
As he lunged, I raised my foot and SLAMMED it down on his head.
He hit the ground hard, face-first, kicking up a cloud of dust.
Before he could scramble back up, I dropped down with him—my fist already swinging.
My knuckles collided with his cheek. Then again. And again. And again.
A rhythmic series of dull, wet thuds filled the arena as I pounded his face into the dirt. Blood started to coat my hand. His face quickly turned into an unrecognizable mess of bruises and fractures.
Each punch echoed like the ringing of a bell, a twisted symphony of violence.
Blood splattered across the ground and sprayed onto my face in small flecks, warm and coppery. His nose was a wreck. His teeth—what was left of them—were shattered. His swollen eyes could barely remain open.
And yet, as I looked down at him, I could see my reflection in the gleam of his dark, bruised pupils.
A wild, manic grin stretched across my face.
Even now, as I was still bleeding internally, hurting, exhausted, there was a sick truth I couldn't deny—
'I am enjoying this. Way too much.'
A foot slammed into the back of my skull.
I grunted in pain, my head snapping forward. It wasn't enough to knock me out, but it did sting. Kind of like getting hit with a bat wrapped in foam.
Back on Earth, that would've hospitalized me. Here? Mild inconvenience.
I rolled away quickly, creating distance.
The brat wasted no time. He staggered upright, blood dripping down his face, and wiped his mouth with a trembling thumb like some kind of overdramatic anime villain.
'Bro looked like a mutated blobfish trying to pose. Aura-farming my ass.'
Still, I had to give him credit—he didn't scream or complain. He just moved.
His limp was noticeable, but his resolve wasn't shaken. Without a word, he bent down and picked up the broken shaft of his spear.
'Wait a second—don't I have a weapon too?'
I glanced down. My axe. Still strapped to my side this whole damn time.
'Brain, are you trying to kill me?'
I grabbed it quickly, readjusting my stance. The cold metal in my hand gave me an odd sense of confidence.
We faced off in silence.
For a while, no one moved. It was like a staring contest between two wounded wolves, both waiting for the other to blink first.
Eventually, he lost patience.
This time, I crouched low, keeping my arms tight around my chest, letting him come. Just a few meters out, he pulled his arm back—
That damn glowing light formed on the tip of his weapon again.
He thrusted forward, the white light intensifying.
I jumped up—just as planned.
'Shit. It was a feint.'
His hand whipped back, spear retracting, and he slammed his palm into the ground.
The ground trembled violently beneath me.
Dozens of stone spikes erupted from the earth, launching upward in a jagged pattern. Mid-air, I couldn't dodge.
The impact hit like a truck.
The spikes flung me higher, then sent me spiraling downward. My body twisted, and I crashed into the arena floor with a thunderous thud, pain shooting through my ribs.
Blood sprayed from my lips as I coughed violently, every nerve in my body screaming.
Then I heard him—charging again. A scream of raw rage echoed behind me.
He was coming. Spear-first. A finishing blow.
I couldn't move fast enough.
'This is bullshit. I can't even access my abilities properly. How am I supposed to fight ?'
'Then again, I accepted his challenge. It's partially my fault too.'
Then an idea struck me.
'Maybe... it's like breathing. Maybe you don't feel mana—you just will it.'
I gritted my teeth, closed my eyes, and shouted:
"[Physical Enhancement]!!"
A sharp ringing burst through my ears. Something shifted. I opened my eyes—
The spear had landed dead center on my chest.
Metal fragments bounced off my skin, clinking harmlessly to the ground.
A translucent, shimmering film now surrounded my body, like a second skin of raw energy.
I stared down in awe.
'It actually worked. I just had to say it? That's it?'
The brat's face was a mask of annoyance and frustration.
'Oh buddy. You thought that was it? You poor, misguided fool.'
I grabbed the largest shard of his broken spear, and without hesitation, jammed it into his thigh.
I stabbed again. And again. And again. Until his legs looked like Swiss cheese.
When his screams started to weaken, I grabbed his collar, yanked him into the air like a doll, spun on my heel, and kicked him full-force in the gut.
Spiraling like a frisbee, he bounced across the ground, leaving a trail of blood in his wake.
His trembling eyes met mine from across the arena.
And in those glossy, broken pupils, I saw myself again.
A blood-soaked monster.
Smiling like the devil.
Breathing heavy, bleeding from the mouth, body aching from the beatdown—but undeniably, irreversibly, thrilled.
'Ahhh, the sheer amount of dopamine I get from seeing these scared faces and hearing these blood curdling screams... is concerning.'
'I mean everyone has a thing or hobby they like.... I guess mine is just slightly different.'