“I don't think I've done more than 20 of these at a time for the past decade.” He commented as he continued. “Old age truly is a curse. To think people dream of living in such a miserable sta-”

He quickly rolled away when Tibaut tried to stomp on his head. He spun around the floor and used the momentum of his spinning body to get back to his feet.

He parried an incoming blow and Tibaut pushed his body into the old man to grab him. He could immediately feel Tibaut trying to dig into his back with his gauntlets and grabbed his knees before leaning forward and slamming him into the floor.

Combined with his injuries, this knocked the air out of Tibaut and his grip loosened enough for Ash to escape his clutches.

He brought his hand down like he was trying to cut the air and the flame projectile soon shot off. It had a curve to it but it was no boomerang.

It slammed into Tibaut, completely burning the front of his shirt and leaving a minor burn across his body. He groaned with pain. Unlike his magic, no explosion occurred and it instead felt like someone had placed a hot whip on him.

Tibaut used his good hand and pushed himself off the ground to kick at Mr. Bentley’s head but Ash blocked it, before grabbing his leg and throwing him further down the street.

Tibaut rolled across the floor and heard Mr. Bentley footsteps come even closer.

He managed to get onto his knee and tackled Mr. Bentley from his crouched position.

He dug his gauntlets into his sides, providing the first visible sign of damage Mr. Bentley had received in the fight and created two smaller fireballs to blow his sides open. Mr. Bentley boxed Tibaut’s ears with both hands leaving him deaf for a few moments, and more importantly, disorientated.

He delivered a flurry of blows to his body and face for daring to sully his new and improved body. He would never allow for another injury to ruin his youth.

Each blow Tibaut received felt like it was delivered by a block of concrete and his face, after much resistance, soon became a bloody mess.

Not only were the punches painful, but he could swear they took more and more energy out of him as they hit. He was convinced he was going to black out, but the very instant he considered such a thing happening, he flared up like fireworks and began trying to parry the blows.

After the 30th consecutive hit, he managed to successfully parry one. Then 31st and 32nd soon made a landing on his face and stomach and he fell to his knees like a sack of potatoes.

(“Sigh, and I didn't even get to truly test my magic. I suppose with what he went through with my boy, he did the best he could.”)

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As Tibaut fell to the floor and had his body become limp, Mr. Bentley brought his foot over his head, ready to crush it. The look in his eyes was far more sinister as he brought it down.

(“Don't think I've forgotten what you did to my boy, you whelp. While I won't kill you, Elizabeth will certainly have a hard time ever making you useful after I'm finished.”)

The moment his shoe made contact with Tibaut’s head and he began pressing his foot down, he noticed a pale blue tinge takeover the boy's body.

(“Hmm?”)

He quickly backed away and observantly watched what was going on.

(“Is that? My god, I haven't seen this in ages. Who knew he was capable of such a thing?”) Mr. Bentley thought as he watched Tibaut get up.

As Tibaut got up, he felt unnaturally fine. He felt what he would consider as great, even. There was no pain in his body and his tiredness was no longer noticeable or even present.

(“Hmm, it seems you're conscious of it this time.”) He heard a voice mumble.

The blue aura flared up and Tibaut rubbed his head.

(“You bitch, what did you!?”) He snarled at the voice now present in his head.

(“Oh me? Nothing, I just heard something interesting and wanted to see what you were doing. Quite the pickle you've gotten yourself in.”)

(“Bullshit, this weird blue thing has you written all over!”)

He thought as he eyed the now cautious Ash.

(“It was an inevitability. With how easy you took the last battle, it isn't surprising it's only happening now.”) The voice responded.

Surprisingly she was telling the truth. It seems as Mr. Bentley pressed his foot down on Tibaut, it caused an immense feeling of hatred and defiance to run throughout Tibaut’s body. While not on the level of emotions and desperation as his previous times entering it, those two previous times were more than enough to open the proverbial floodgates. Smash them even.

Frankly, if not for Kevin's presence in the last battle he likely would have entered this state in his battle with the priest.

“Ki eh? I can't say I'm pleased but... I can't say it won't be fun either.” Mr. Bentley Ash stated as he stepped forward.

“So that's what this is,” Tibaut commented.

(“Well, I'd consider a start but it's nothing like the last two times.”)

Tibaut ignored the voice in his head but another problem was soon apparent as Mr. Bentley approached.

(“How do I use this?”)

As Mr. Bentley approached, he noticed the wounds starting to heal and he gave an exaggerated sigh.

“I swear… boy it's a bit mean to keep something like this hidden until the last moment.”

He cricked his neck and paid very close attention to Tibaut.

“I can't believe your forte is actually Ki. You even had Ezekiel fooled with your magic.”

Tibaut couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at that comment.