«Let the battle begin!»
Alright, Lyon. Focus. Rember: use the speed! Use the spe—
I don’t even finish telling myself that... when in the blink of an eye, the beast is already in front of , his body wrapped in a faint aura of blue flas.
What the hell...?!
He pulls back slightly to throw a punch, but I can only catch his movents like broken fras, as if my eyes and brain can’t process such speed.
Before I can react, I’m smashed to the ground.
A sharp pain tears through my stomach, and blood gushes out of my mouth in bursts.
Damn it... he must’ve punched in the gut, but I didn’t even see it coming!
And this guy is second-to-last in the rankings?! What kind of monsters are the ones at the top?!
Priscilla Volkom, Ayra’s younger sister, skips around like a kid on Christmas morning, spinning her whip and cracking it in the air.
«Finally, my endless streak of defeats is about to end!» she provokes, turning her back on her sister and slapping her small butt. «Kiss my ass, Ayra!»
«Lyon, what are you doing?!» Ayra’s voice, full of alarm and rage, explodes in my ears through the shiny red earpiece. «We’re being humiliated in front of the entire high nobility of Mildelar!»
«W-What do you think I’m doing...? I’m getting wrecked, can’t you see?» I snap back sarcastically, my voice tight with pain as blood keeps dripping.
’In our world, strength is not just brute force’ Ayra had told before... but the fists of this guy seem to say otherwise.
«What’s wrong, little boy... already done?» Gerard, Priscilla’s familiar, comnts with such exaggerated fake concern that it makes my blood boil.
This mountain of muscles was getting beaten by everyone just a minute ago, and now he even has the nerve to act cocky?
I clench my fists in a desperate attempt to stand, but the pain pins to the ground.
«And now, the finishing blow!» Gerard pushes off the ground and leaps into the air with a force that would make a pole vault champion jealous.
Seriously, he’s over five ters high... how the hell did he do that?
And those blue flas swirling around him... Could it be magic drawn from humans during the Bonding Ritual?
Priscilla must be a minstress way more skilled than Ayra, no doubt.
Gerard’s massive fra blocks the arena lights, casting a nacing shadow over .
He’s about to crash down, fist raised, ready to strike like a teor slamming into a fragile straw hut—and yeah, I’m the hut.
«Lyon, move! Are you planning to react or not?!» Ayra’s shrill voice drills into my ear again.
God, I can’t take her anymore.
Maybe Gerard’s punch will wipe out once and for all and send to the other world—for real this ti.
All this ss with vampires and human fights already pisses off.
Is it too much to hope for a quiet death? All because I accepted sothing I didn’t even understand, offered by a woman I had never t, when I was one step from dying.
If I ever reincarnate, I’ll keep my mouth shut when I’m about to croak.
I close my eyes in resignation, bracing for what will probably be the most painful blow my sixteen-year-old body has ever felt.
«Lyon! Do you want to touch my boobs or not?! Then get up and take down Priscilla’s familiar!» Ayra yells, her voice this ti more desperate than angry.
B-Boobs? Her beautiful, round, massive boobs? So big my hands wouldn’t even be able to hold them completely.
So... that was the special reward she ant if I won?
To touch her incredible, big boobs?
I... I can’t give this up!
I snap my eyes open.
Gerard is falling straight toward in free fall.
What is... this strange sensation running through my body...?
It burns inside like a fire spreading from my chest to the tips of my fingers and toes! I can’t... contain it... I’m about to explode!
—BOOM!
A sudden wave of violet energy bursts out of my body, radiating in all directions.
It slams into Gerard, who was just a few centiters away, and hurls him violently across the arena.
He crashes against a semi-transparent red barrier, visible only at the mont of impact, separating the battlefield from the stands.
A stunned silence falls over the spectators.
Everyone holds their breath, their faces frozen in disbelief.
If they’re this shocked—and they’re used to this—what the hell am I supposed to think?
I stand up with no effort, the pain from Gerard’s punch completely gone—as if he had never hit .
And my body... it’s wrapped head to toe in flas just like his.
Strange... why were his blue while mine are violet? I guess Ayra could explain it, though I wouldn’t count on it.
«T-The winner is... Lyon Volkom, Princess Ayra’s familiar!»
After what feels like an eternity of silence, the announcer’s shaky, stamring voice echoes across the arena, officially declaring my victory.
Gerard lies unconscious on the ground.
Wait... what the fuck just happened?!
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