Rolling away from harm, I narrowly dodged the half-rotten form of the ginormous monster as it tried to land on me with its full weight.

And despite the fact that I had dodged, the shockwave sent me an extra few yards away. Flipping my body midair and using a little bit of Arcanum, I repositioned myself just in time and as I skidded backwards before coming to a halt.

As I looked ahead; I saw that the ground where the monster had landed was not faring so well.

It buckled and cracked under the monstrous weight, leaving a deep, jagged crater.

Fat chunks of earth were flung in all directions, the force of the impact sending shockwaves through the ground, rippling outwards like a stone dropped into a pond.

Dust and debris billowed up in a choking cloud, and the air filled with the acrid smell of freshly shattered rock and dirt.

The ear-splitting roar followed right after, causing a cold chill in my bones and an overwhelmingly giddy sensation of fighting against Isolde's Arcane Art.

It was still powering it, her Arcanum—slowly, but surely—trickling from the primary node and into her…'summoned corpse', for the lack of better words.

But the weight of this monster was no joke.

I shuddered at the thought that if it had landed on me with its full weight, it was likely to exert a force close to 4,400 pounds per square inch.

My bones would have shattered like brittle twigs, organs crushed, flattened into unrecognisable mush, skin and muscles torn apart, and reduced to a bloody, mangled heap—an unrecognisable mess of flesh and bone fragments.

Exciting!

I tightened my grip on the hilt of the modestly made sword, the blade humming with the subtly electromagnetic energy that I continued to slowly channel into it.

I got into a long-point stance as I planted my legs firmly in a wide stance, knees slightly bent for balance. My sword extended in front of me, blade angled slightly upward.

Gripping the hilt with both hands, I squared my shoulders, keeping my back straight.

Subtle sparks crackled along its edge, casting a flickering glow that illuminated the rotting form.

Its 'supposed' majestic feathers were now tattered and matted with blood and decay; the jagged beak eager to taste my flesh.

Isolde was out of breath behind it, her eyes glinting with malice.

On the other side, Lucian and Michael were in a deadlock. It didn't seem like they were progressing.

That's what appeared on the surface. But since Michael and Lucian had the same amount of Arcanum, it was hard to tell who was holding back. Because there was a clear difference in physical abilities.

However, it was hard to discern since this mindless monster was trying to eat me up in one bite!

Surely this can't be allowed.

'…'

Well, who am I kidding? I am actually enjoying it.

It was very, very refreshing to see other Arcane Arts. Discerning its mechanics and then dismantling it.

As I was partaking in the usual indulgence of talking to myself, like an uninvited guest, the giant monster launched itself at me, moving with a speed that stupefied me for a fleeting moment.

A decayed corpse, reanimated, fuelled by Isolde's Arcanum – I was not expecting it to move so fast.

Its talons slashed through the air. The air whistled around.

Caught off-guard, I barely managed to leap to the side, feeling the rush of wind as the claws missed me by mere inches.

This force behind each swing was almost equal to that of a hydraulic press.

If it could exert this much force after dying, I could only wonder how strong it was when it was alive.

I am not aware how necromancy works in a way that does it require the summoner to kill the object of summon themselves or can they summon any dead creature?

If every person has the same conditions applied on them, then it means she could have just added this to her arsenal just by hoarding someone else's kill. Like how Jayden had done with the Wujins.

Getting tangled into my own thoughts; I shook them away as my fingers made a subtle sound against the rough leather and my eyes narrowed.

I focused, summoning more lightning into my blade and beneath my feet as it exploded and carried me towards the creature in a sudden burst of energy right before I swung at it.

I was expecting a shriek of pain but all I heard was silence, save for the hissing sound of the electrified blade cutting through its rotting flesh – sparks and bits of flesh flying and smoke rising from the wound.

Without taking the moments of rest a living creature would take due to the necessities and pangs of flesh; it spun around.

"GraveHawk! Use Frenzy Beak!" Isolde cried out from behind, much more stabilised than before.

What the Pokémon…?

It suddenly opened its wings, the tattered membranes giving way to the streaks of moon protruding through it as it closed its giant mouth and directed it towards me.

Arcanum covered its wings like a well-fitting glove and then flapped it once, bursting in my direction.

Time – my perception stretched like gum as its beak aimed for my throat.

I took a deep breath.

Bringing my sword up and bracing with my entire body, I blocked it. Or at least tried to.

The clash between my sword and its beak resulted in a frenzy of sparks, followed by a shockwave that rattled my bones.

Sensing this as an appropriate opportunity, Isolde whipped Wyrmbarb.

The weapon streaked through the air; javelin aimed straight for my heart.

Seeing it out of the corner of my eye, I redirected some magnetic waves to my left hand that diverted the javelin's path just enough for it to miss me.

The rope-javelin thudded into the ground.

"Ferrum Field."

I chanted underneath my breath as giant chunks of boulders started to attach themselves to the javelin of Isolde's Wyrmbarb, making it almost impossible for her to lift it up and attack…or even defend herself.

Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

Seeing this, I seized the opportunity by charging at Isolde.

However, before I could even reach her, the gravehawk interposed itself, talons slashing down like an axe kick, with the exception of the fact that it had giant daggers for nails.

Skidding to a halt, I raised my sword just in time to block the attack. The force of the blow drove me to one knee, the ground cracking beneath me.

"Do it!" She barked orders from behind as the force doubled.

The gravehawk screeched and flapped its wings, sending a gust of foul-smelling wind that forced me to take a step back.

She is strong. But…

My muscles tensed as I pushed back, surging back to my feet, throwing the gravehawk off balance.

Lightning spilled out of me like a net and then arched inwards, towards my sword as it bent through the air. The blade bit deep into the Gravehawk's side.

It opened its mouth and this time an ear-splitting shriek echoed throughout the stadium.

…not as strong as I had thought her to be. What a waste of time.

In a fit of fury, the Gravehawk took to the air, its tattered wings beating furiously as it circled above.

It felt like a desperate attempt.

Humans were no different than animals, or monsters. If someone told me the story of this fight by substituting Gravehawk with a human, I would have totally believed it.

Standing underneath it, I watched, sword at the ready.

Isolde was just in range, but I waited. There was still something she was holding back. She had a strained look on her face, but even if I defeated her right now, it wouldn't give me the exact satisfaction of what I had been craving for.

An intrinsic sensation.

Like a voice…a very smooth, and calming voice, different from my mother's, whispering.

'Crush your enemies and then…'

The voice whispered as my lips moved, talking out loud, completing the sentence.

"…show them they never stood a chance."

Green aura built up from the base of its neck, charging and charging until…its maw opened and the entire stadium started to rupture.

The gravehawk was emitting a series of high-frequency sounds—like a whole tsunami of extremely high frequency sound waves.

People started to cover their ears, some falling, some slumping into their seats.

A few yards away, both Michael and Lucian dipped to both knees, hands on ears despite the dense layer of Arcanum covering them.

The noise seemed to be excruciating. And bone jarring.

Sound waves—which are usually characterised by their frequency and amplitude—propagate as mechanical waves through a medium such as air, water, or solids.

High-frequency sound waves, typically in the ultrasonic range above 20 kHz, surpass the upper limit of human hearing.

But the effects are very disastrous. Since extremely high frequency ones can not only cause eardrums to rupture but also tissue breakage.

Since the nature of sound waves is inherently mechanical, involving the oscillation of particles in the medium through which they travel which, in extension, creates regions of compression and rarefaction.

Perhaps it was the combined effect of everyone collapsing, or almost everyone, that Isolde thought the same had been happening to me.

She grinned and retrieved Wyrmbarb before advancing.

At the same time, the Gravehawk dove, talons extended.

Without batting an eye towards the mindless creature and keeping my eyes locked with Isolde, I raised the sword and sent a giant bolt of lightning arcing towards the Gravehawk. The bolt struck the creature mid-flight, causing it to convulse and screech in agony.

Its gargantuan body rolled like a ragdoll through the air, akin to a bird struck with a stone from a slingshot as it fell right where Lucian and Michael were, still recovering from the sonic attack from Gravehawk.

"Was that all?" I cocked my head as she was still midair, the lasso about to twirl around and capture me.

She tried to change directions mid-air; however, lightning scooped my entire form from there and then I was right beside her.

Focusing a modest amount of lightning into my fist, I looked at her one last time. "Well, goodnight."

The sword slipped from my grip, hitting the ground with a clang.

In a split-second, I channelled lightning into my fist and punched her sternum, just an inch below her heavy bosom.

The world seemed to slow as lightning coiled around my arm, crackling building up, surging like a tempest, and then it erupted.

From my fist, a giant dragon's head, forged from pure lightning, busted forward and swallowed Isolde whole, its jaws opening wide as it lifted her off her feet as if she weighed nothing more than a speck of dust.

Across the stadium, I saw the oldest brother—Nacht Cromwell—sitting with an expression that was a complicated alchemy of excitement and fear.

Isolde's expression of shock and pain in the few fractions of a second was seared into my memory as the dragon hurled her across the stadium with a seemingly unstoppable force.

Her body crashed into the distant wall with a rattling boom, the impact shaking the entire stadium.

As she tried to hold the dragon's maw from pummelling her further back by placing her hands on its upper and lower jaw, it suddenly snapped shut around her, and in an instant, the wall exploded into a maelstrom of controlled destruction.

Fragments of stone, metal and precious rock which decorated the wall with the family emblem were all pulverised, and the stands along the wall were obliterated, leaving nothing but pure wreckage.

A hurricane of smoke, dust, and debris rose, swirling violently.

Lightning danced within this cloud of debris, illuminating the wreckage with occasional blinding flashes.

The air became thick with the smell of ozone and charred remnants, and the sound of crackling electricity filled the void that was created by the dead silence of the stadium.

The dust settled to reveal Isolde, squashed against the wall like a bug. A single streak of red was flowing from the side of her mouth and her eyes had already rolled back to the back of her head.

To my side, I felt the gravehawk body turn ethereal and then slowly drift away.

Like grains of sand running between fingers, the summoned beast's body slowly turned into small, barely perceptible motes of Arcanum, glowing in a dull, lifeless shade of green before drifting towards Isolde and merging back with her.

Her chest heaved up as she suddenly breathed a long one, and then slumped down contently against what remained of the wall.

Looking to my side, I saw both Lucian and Michael on the ground. They were conscious, but both of their knees were touching the ground. They were looking at each other with wide eyes, full of disbelief.

One would've expected a kiss scene if this was a movie with 'enemies turned friends,' as a base theme.

Like me and Michael.

I meant the 'enemies turned friends' part, not the other way. Why would I think about the other one?!

Why am I even defending myself?

In a monologue that is!?

I should stop thinking. It is not very pleasing considering what I think. I can understand if others don't want to talk to me. I sound really annoying…and obnoxious.

It was only when the voice amplifying artefact suddenly buzzed with a moment of static did I notice that there was still silence lingering in the air.

"Hm?"

As I looked around, I saw the demons looking at me with wide eyes. As if they had seen an apparition.

A ghost.

"Y-YOUNG MASTER LUCIAN AND MICHAEL WHITE ARE BOTH DOWN! THE FIGHT HAS ENDED IN A TIE!"

The first announcement came right after I stared at the announcer followed by Michael's trademark…uhh, words.

"MOTHERFUCKER! YOU DROPPED THAT ON US! LOOK AT WHAT YOU DID! I AM GOING TO KILL YOU, YOU GLOOMY FART, AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

Not only was he close to ripping his own hair out but I feared that the young master Lucian would lose his hearing ability as well.

Lucian had a rather stern look on his face. Although I'd argue that it was not because Michael had the temperament of a high-schooler but because he didn't like the outcome as well. But he was doing well holding it back.

The announcer tapped the mic once again, as if trying to get everyone's attention. However, he talked in a meek tone. Like if saying what he was going to say after this was going to get him killed.

"YOUNG LADY I-ISOLDE HAS BEEN DE-DEFEATED BY arthur olvasen…."

Hey, come on. Don't be like that. There was no need to muffle out my name. It's not like the stands are filled with blind people.

I looked around.

No one was talking. No one was cheering.

Naturally, but still, it felt oddly mortifying.

"BOOOOOO!" Michael did a thumb-down before walking away from Lucian who also stood up and slipped his hands into his pocket.

Well, having one hater is better than having no one care about you, at all.

After all, hate takes a lot of passion. I am not sure if anyone else would expend such a strong emotion on me.

As I watched Lucian walk over to Isolde, cast a glance at her and then look away in disgust, I heard a clap.

From over my shoulder, right behind me, in the far distance, was the singular source of clapping.

It wasn't from Aksel. Nor was it from Jayden.

But someone entirely else.

The silver haired girl dressed in her formal clothes was clapping as hard as she could, hands above her head and a huge smile on her face.

A shadow of a smile tugged at the corners of my mouth, but I smothered it.

Never again.

I reminded myself.

The wounds inflicted on a heart are beyond healing, especially when the source of the pain has faded from memory.

Even when she jumped from the fence and ran awkwardly, fidgeting with her long dress while struggling to run straight, I stood there.

"Keh! If golden retrievers had a human form, she'd be one!" Michael grumbled, placing his arm over my shoulder.

Sentiment is a vain burden, attachments…chains. Existing, but forgotten warmth teaches you that.

But it seemed that much like things I had no control over, I keep forgetting things I do have control over.

I soon found out this much:—sadness, anger, euphoria and… most of all, terror can be endured so long as a man simply ducks;—but it kills, if a man thinks about it.

"Right…" I breathed out as the two of us started walking back, doing our best to ignore the rising bloodlust from the countless demon nobles sitting in the stands…

"I still haven't forgotten how you made me lose, you damned fucker. Kill yourself!"

…and Michael's ooga booga.